A Coastal Christmas

It's been a pretty surreal experience spending our first Christmas away from parents and family. Rather than recount the events and destinations of the holiday "weekend" I will highlight some of the more colorful moments in a dry-outline format:


I. Eve
Laurie R.'s son Matt came to visit from Dumaguete and we went over to their place for Noche Buena at Chez Raymundo. When I told my family, over speaker phone, that Matt was around my brother shouted "Who's Matt?"
"You used to play video games with him in the Philippines," said my dad.
"I used to play video games with a lot of people," he said.
I don't think anything mirrors the Christmas spirit better than remembering all those people we used to play video games with.

II. Day
At dusk Ernie took a walk into the waves at the Christmas Day beach party. As we all watched him, some wished they had thought to join him, others hoped he wouldn't disappear so we'd have to swim out and get him, and the rest took bets on if he would spill his G&T.


III. Day After
We went to the Mermaid Tavern to use a portion of our very generous gift certificate from Sloan's parents. It was a lot of the same crowd we had seen the two previous nights at Laurie R.'s Eve Party and Ernie's Beach Party, but now we were all sitting around a rectangular table in the middle of a bar listening to the Deep Sea Blues Band do their thing. Matt and sister Laurie joined them for a couple of tunes. The real sister, Maia, was embarrassed from all the attention her mom was getting. Sometimes one family's dynamic is enough for all of us.

Merry Christmas.

Harmon Medical Clinic: Part 2

Parked next to the Harmon Medical Clinic in an alleyway more befitting a gas station or Karaoke bar (both adjacent to the Clinic) is a DeLorean. If you read our previous post I attempted to inform the clinic watch dog that there are only so many of these cars around - 6,500 according to Wikipedia. I guess it's a sign of my age that the sight of this car in complete disrepair in an alleyway on Guam made me kind of sad. It was as though a small piece of my childhood, that desire not only to go Back to the Future, but also to one day own an entirely impractical sports car, was laid to rest under a window box and surrounded in a wreath of dried up coconuts. I wanted to sit in the car for a moment which would have been easy since the windows were missing. Unfortunately, so were the seats.

In better news - Sloan showed no signs of TB in her chest x-ray although she still intends to take the 9 month regiment of antibiotics just in case. In case of what? I guess we are growing up.

Harmon Medical Clinic: Part 1

After Sloan failed two TB skin tests we took a drive over to the Harmon Medical Clinic for a chest x-ray. Apparently this squat, two story, pink, cement building is the place to go for all sorts of medical diagnostics and as you may notice from their elaborate and informative signage: sick notes. I always wondered how to get a sick note. I thought parents could write them. I guess there is a more official venue, maybe for grown-ups, and this place may have the market cornered.


In my abundant free time I drove over to this place to take some pictures of the sign and an abandoned car (see part 2). I was only there, in the parking lot, a few seconds. I had taken three pictures when an older Filipina lady holding a half opened Fed Ex box in one hand came out of the building with her arms out at her sides, palms facing me. In guy talk this gesture usually translates "Hey, you got something to say to me!?" or "Is it about time for a throw down?!" I wanted to give the lady the benefit of the doubt that although she interrupted her mail opening to come outside and address an immediate threat she may not really want to full on beef right there in the clinic parking lot. So I said "Hi."
She repeated the gesture. "What are you doing? You taking pictures of the building?"
Now I was curious. Should I have been taking pictures of the building? I decided the best approach was to tell the truth. By now another nurse, younger, had poked her head out of the building door.
"No, no. I was taking pictures of the car. It's the car from Back to the Future. There are not that many of them in the world."
The young nurse got it. She laughed and went back inside the building. The older nurse had not seen the movie.
"You taking pictures of the building?"
I had to pull out all the stops.
"No, I was taking pictures of the sign. I think it's funny that you advertise sick notes on your sign."
For whatever reason this satisfied the old lady and she went back inside. I should have told her I was taking pictures of the building. I should have told her that Pepto Bismol was not an appropriate color for a medical clinic.
I just got out of there.
Check in for the chest x-ray results in Part 2.

The Lost Thanksgiving Blog

We've been on Guam for two months now and have barely mentioned our most incredible hosts, The Skerritts. They met us, old school international style - waiting just outside the customs area, at the airport. They let us invade their home for two weeks as we finalized our rent and transportation issues, parking our laptops on the kitchen counter and dining room table during the day to scour for jobs and Guam gov. information. They let us borrow their truck (it doesn't screech when you start it and has a working odometer) and receive all sorts of mail at their house. They even let us house sit for an extra two weeks while they went to China to visit Zack, their son. We harassed their dog, Roxy, and they recommended me to a potential cabinet customer with a great view of Tumon. It's like we can do no wrong. After all that they invited us over for thanksgiving when it was us who should have been thanking, profusely. All we did was make pies.

There they are.
That's Mr. Steve Skerritt, hanging out.


That's Mrs. Jan Skerritt on the right. She's listening attentively to the duties for singing the 12 days of Christmas delegated to us by Don, who runs the Army Reserve for Guam. We were 2 turtle doves. She was the partridge in the pear tree.

Laundromut

Our container house does not have a washing machine. The nearest laundromat is approximately 20 minutes away in Agat. When you consider that I am running a lot in hot soupy weather and Drew is volleyballing a lot in hot soupy gyms, it is quickly apparent that we have a problem.

My solution would have been to suck it up and go to the laundromat more often. My husband's solution? A laundry device that, while pleasingly smooth and egg-shaped, requires actual human input to clean my sports bras and running shorts. Some people call this elbow grease. I call this something that is unprintable on a blog read by my parents and parents-in-law.

Some illustrations of the cleaning process:

(1) Spin cycle

(2) Rinse cycle

(3) Dryer

For those who know Drew, it should come as no surprise that he adores our hand-cranked washing "machine." Its self-reliant, its green, it looks cool, etc. There are a few problems, however. First, it requires so much of the aforementioned elbow grease that doing laundry creates more laundry because you get all sweaty. Second, the rinse cycle needs some work. The other day, caught in a sudden downpour during my run, I glanced down and saw soap foaming down my legs.

Still, I am appreciative that Drew wants to hand-crank our way out of trips to the laundromat. If only the same company would invent a rotating dish egg, I would be relieved of all my household responsibilities.