The Mothballs Come Out

Alright, folks.

This is the end.

I'm still feeling pretty woeful over having to bring this blog to a close.

It's hard to distinguish where the all of the sadness over leaving Cayman ends and individual sadnesses begin.

Of course, we'll miss the beach and the weather and how vibrant everything is... especially on days like today when it's 12 degrees outside.



It's easy to disregard everything that made it difficult and unsustainable when you're a few thousand miles away....and cold.

But it was good. We did it and it was nice and now we're getting everything in order to start planning whatever the next step will be. Relocation? Tattoos? Kids? Tattooed Kids?

I guess we'll jump off of that bridge when we come to it. That's how the saying goes, right?

Anyway, thanks again for reading.

I'm keeping this site open for the occasional walks down memory lane. Feel free to check back to reference mango varietals or how much an idiot Frankie Muniz is or whatever made you smile.

Here's a little slide show of some of the thousands of pictures we took down there. It's pretty slapdash, but it still choked me up as I previewed it.



Make sure to check out (and bookmark, and subscribe to) the new blog when time permits:

randomshizza.blogspot.com

There'll be some music and some ranting and plenty of mildly entertaining stuff.

Until then.... Ta.

Getting Settled... again.

We've arrived safe and sound, and are trying to get moved back into our house.

There was a peace lily waiting for us on the porch, sent by our incredible friends Marc e Kirstin de Schweitz.

Things had been going well enough until we got bombarded with snow last night.... I checked weather.com and Cayman is just a little warmer than we are right now.... just a little.

Anyway, I'll post shortly with information on the new blog and pics of our progress...

Thanks for reading.

Z

...and the Lord taketh away.

Hello All. All 6 of you.

First, I apologize for taking such a long break from updating you on all of the ridiculousness we get up to around here.

There has been a deluge of rottenness that washed away any desire I had to actually write anything down, and we're just now coming up for air.

About ten days ago, Kristi's clinic announced that it will be leased out to a new management group at the end of the month.

This management group decided that there was no room in the new clinic for Kristi, so she was informed she'd be losing her work permit.

Without a work permit, she can't stay on the island.

If you are reading this while standing, I strongly urge you to find a comfy, supportive place to sit before scrolling down any further.

I am about to release a bit of information that might come as such a shock to you, that you tumble to the floor in a formless heap.

Sitting? Okay, here goes: I'm not positive that I could keep us afloat with my "Document Filer" job.

I wouldn't trust the horrible temp agency that holds my work permit with making me a sandwich, let alone ensuring my ability to thrive in a foreign country.



SO, after much deliberation and soul-searching, we've come to the sad conclusion that we cannot stay in Cayman.

There's a lot more that went into the decision, but the stuff I already mentioned is boring enough.

We're very sad, but we don't really have any other option. Getting a job here is a nightmare, and we don't feel like struggling through another few months would give any earth-shattering experiences that would make it worth the added stress.

So, we sold the car, notified the marvelous landlords, and gave almost all of our stuff to the Humane Society Thrift Store.

I also quit the Document Filer job, and the Temp Agency called me "a disgrace to all Americans," a "failure," and told me that I was hired "even though your resume was completely insufficient for consideration by our agency."

Riiiiiight.

This is the same agency, by the way, that got me jobs driving around the island making sure phone books were delivered, sitting in cold rooms watching Med Students take tests, and sitting in an empty office licking envelopes.

And filing documents.

I guess that's more than a bilingual, CPR-certified, Eagle Scout with a degree in Communication Studies and 5 years experience at a Fortune 500 company could ever hope for.

I'm just happy they gave me a chance.

Maybe if I had finished my MBA they could have gotten me a job on the Trash Truck.

I'm sure they had a position lined up for me watching paint dry or standing in a field or something equally rewarding. What a shame that I'll miss out.

Anyway, enough about those wretched, soulless garbage-mongers.

Okay, one more... I'll just say that Hell waits for them with open arms.




We'll be leaving this Thursday and heading back to Kansas City to regroup and decide what the next adventure will be.

I'll be moth-balling the blog, unless the Kansas City Winter Mango crop is better than I'm expecting....

Check back for final thoughts and more photos of our time here.

Until then, thanks for checking in, and we'll look forward to hearing from you soon.

Ta.

"Livid." File under "L."

Geez, guys... I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long for the far-too-regular dose of nonsense.

There's been little to report these days.... with the help of a constant barrage of ridiculousness and inconvenience from all directions, the sadness of the holidays has morphed into an almost indescribable anger.



There have been several false starts into 2008's inaugural blog, all of which quickly degenerated into lists of people who's faces I'd like to smash.

Until I'm more clear on how "Threats Against Physical Well Being" are handled in the Caymanian Judicial System, I'll keep them to myself.

And wait.



I'm posting these flower pics that I took to take the "deranged" edge off of this post. Working?



Okay, Christmas = Sad, Zach's angry again... what else?

New Years was lovely. Kristi and I took a bottle of Prosecco and a gorgeous little Cohiba down to 7 Mile Beach and watched all of the Fireworks displays that the resorts host.

It was like ten 4th of July's going on all at once, and was a perfect end and beginning.



The Cubans that live behind us celebrated by blaring salsa music until 6 am. I checked MSN.com to see if Castro had finally died. It turns out they just really love to party.

They say Communism stifles the Human Spirit. I personally witnessed a love of fireworks that not even waiting in line for 6 hours for rice can kill.

I could barely hear the music because they were lighting chain after endless chain of Firecrackers until sirens came blaring around the same time.

I heard later that this wasn't the cops shutting them down, but an ambulance responding to a "Drunk Cuban Blew Two of His Fingers Off" call. I think that's like 419 or something.



In other news, the Agency to whom my servitude is indentured truly, truly excels in two areas:

1-NOT finding me a job.

and

2-Finding me horrible jobs.

They earned another Gold Star in the second category today, assigning me to an Offshore Management Company.

I was initially excited at the prospect of FINALLY getting some Offshore experience to pad my wilting resume, but then I remembered that the Agency's Code of Conduct expressly forbids them from finding me anything decent.

I arrived at 8:30 to be trained on my new, 2-week assignment.

Document Filer.



BA in Comm Studies? Not necessary.

5 years Broad-based Corporate Finance Experience? No thanks.

Conversational Spanish? For what?

My knowledge of the Alphabet is the only part of my resume from which I'll need to draw for the ten days.

Oh yeah, I forgot to add it : Eagle Scout. Let's see if I remember how to tie a noose.



Ta.

Good Tidings and all that....

WELL, Christmas has come and gone without our soon-to-be-diagnosed clinical depression/separation anxiety rearing it's ugly head. Er, heads. Whatever.

It was rotten being away from family, just as I predicted in the last post, but there were bright points that took our minds off of how much we miss everyone back home.

One point of questionable brightness was the age-old Christmas Tradition of "Feeding Chickens that Live in Our Yard."

Here's a little vid of me and "Le Coq Monsieur," the young rooster who seems to be the only one that realizes that we're vegetarians and can be trusted. And we're slow-moving.



He's actually the half brother of ""Pomme," the little chick featured in an older, but equally boring post.

Their mother, Frenchie, is growing more and more trusting by the day, and we hope to be able to hand feed her soon.

You know we don't have a TV, right?

Anyway, I was worried that we wouldn't see the Chickens for Christmas. They have been coming around less and less, seeming to take offense to the Holiday album I've been playing.




We received a call from Mr. Chowtee, Maitre D'Hotel of "The Lighthouse at Breakers" (our favorite restaurant on the planet) on Sunday. He advised us that they would be offering a limited seating for Christmas dinner, and that "Someone" had called in a Gift Certificate for us.

I asked if the sender was supposed to be a secret.

He said "I don't know, your Dad didn't say."

We made our reservation and got seats on the patio, where we were able to witness the Christmas Sunset over our insalata.



For dinner, I had a gorgeous Baked Pumpkin Gnocchi with Asparagus and Petit Ripali.



Kristi had Pumpkin and Leek soup with Sunflower Seeds, and I think she liked it.... I was too busy cramming the gnocchi into my face like some Haute Cuisine Homer Simpson to pay attention.

For dessert, we always share the Beignets with Vietnamese Cinnamon. I think they're low carb or something.



They're served with Creme Anglaise, fresh fruit, and Strawberry Coulis, and I think that they're proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

They're so good, I think they merit another pic.



We'll have some when you come and visit. So, COME ON!!!! And tell my folks to phone in another free dinner for us.

The old Red Bay Estate puts on a pretty spectacular Christmas Light display, which we photographed from the car, as we were too stuffed to get out.



I think they're just over-compensating for the fact that they didn't do ANYTHING for 4th of July.

After hauling ourselves inside, I flopped walrus-style back out to the porch to cap off the evening with an exquisite Cuban Partagas Lusitania, one of the benchmark double-coronas of the world.



Coupled with an equally exquisite 8-year-old Angostura Trinidadian Rum, it was a fitting end to a perfect meal.



Two hours alone in the dark gave me a lot of time to think of everyone about whom we care so much.

This is the first Christmas I've ever spent away from friends and family, and I'm not anxious to repeat it.

I was able to make peace with the sadness I feel in the realization that if the people in our lives weren't so incredible, I wouldn't be so "mashed up" over not being with them.

So, while Christmas is an incredible time, there's no reason that the next time we see you can't be just as special.

Togetherness is cause enough for celebration, and it can't come soon enough for us.

Anyway, Merry Christmas, and thanks for reading.

I promise more marginally amusing tales in the New Year, if we make it that far.

Peace.

A Stinging Sensation

Kristi and I went swimming with some Stingrays on Sunday, and I had plans of writing a long post about it.

It was incredibly enjoyable, even though both of us received painful bites, or "sucks" to be more accurate.

Here's Kristi's "Stingray Hickie."




Our amazing friends Marc and Kirstin keep the blog "Rues de Geneve" (link below.) They've been living in Switzerland for about the same amount of time we've been here in Cayman, and we shamelessly copied their idea of keeping a blog to chronicle the adventure.



Early this week, we received the sad news that Kirstin's Father had passed away in Texas after a heart-breaking battle with esophageal cancer.

The shadow that this news cast has left us feeling contemplative and even more woeful that we won't be returning home over the Christmas Holiday.

It also made writing an unfunny post about Stingrays seem even less important that it already was, if that's even possible.


This Holiday Season has really crept up on us. It's hard to take "December" seriously when we're rubbing aloe on sunburnt shoulders.

Yesterday, I heard one of my favorite Christmas Carols, Stevie Wonder's performance of "Someday at Christmas."

The rush of emotion was overwhelming.

I thought about our families and how hard it is to be so far away from them, especially during this time of year.

I thought about our friends and how Christmas is usually when we'd gather to check in on one another.

I though about the fragility and impermanence of everything, and loved ones who are no longer with us.

Thinking these things and hearing this song was too much, and I had to pull into a parking lot to wipe the tears from my eyes and regain control before finishing the drive to work.

I'm officially homesick.

I'm attaching Stevie's carol for you to enjoy.

Even though it was written in 1967, the lyrics are just as applicable today.



So, just in case.... Merry Christmas.

Cay-Listers

For years the Ritz-Carlton Grand Cayman was a joke and a punchline within itself.

It took like 87 years to build, at a cost of 9 quadrillion dollars, and remains two-thirds empty 5 years after opening. The starting price for three bedroom Condos inside the Ritz has just been lowered, yes LOWERED to 2.9 million US. Really.

They keep a parking circle full of white Mercedes-Benz and BMW vehicles for their guests to use, as well as a helicopter to shuttle you to Miami if you eat some bad shellfish or something.

The bad shellfish would have to come from somewhere else, because both* of their restaurants have menus designed by Eric Ripert, a Michelin Star winner and one of the top 5 chefs in the world.

*Both. Two. One over-priced joint was not enough for them. Two over-priced joints was juuuuust-riiiiight.



The Ritz is a gargantuan structure, joining the Great Wall of China and Kirstie Alley as one of the few Earthly things visible from space. It's so tall that it eclipses the sun on our morning beach walk, and our disgust at the size and pretentiousness of the complex is matched only by our hatred for it's guests.

All of that being said, they really know how to throw a party.

The Ritz hosted the Cayman Classic Tennis ProAm over the weekend, and Kristi was offered VIP passes in exchange for her services as a Physiotherapist for the tournament players.

We debated a little when the offer came through....

Should we take the high road, standing strong in the face of an institution that we feel is an eyesore and completely wrong for Cayman?

Or.....

Should we go eat their food, drink their liquor, and act like fools? You know... in protest or whatever....

Well....




Once I saw the tickets, I knew it we had to make a decision. And a scene.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Please attire yourself in white for this event."

Pfffffttt.

They might as well have said: "Zach. Please act like a Baboon on Angel Dust."

We went, and I must admit it was really lovely.




The food was fresh and delicious (see Baked Potato Martini below), the pours were generous and straight from the top shelf, and the service was friendly and attentive.




There were also a bunch of celebrities there, but more on them later.

We ran into our friends Jocelyn and Brian and had an incredibly nice time.




But, you know... we had a great time IN PROTEST!!!!!

We grabbed our shoes and left a little after midnight, feeling like maybe we hadn't given the Ritz a fair shake.



We woke up feeling a little... Off, and decidedly less hospitable.

The ProAm was that morning, and we had VIP tent bracelets.



Again, incredible food and drink, luxurious accommodations, and some aggressively obnoxious celebrities.

I sat by Frankie Muniz (from TV's Malcom in the Middle) for the better part of 5 hours. This was not my choice... it was just a very small tent.



He looked like the hobbit, and would not shut up about car racing.

Some gems:

"I'm one of the top-ten drivers in the world."

"NASCAR is fixed, so I turned down a HUGE contract with them."

"I'm one of the top-five drivers in the world."

"I could probably win this tennis tournament, but I'm saving my energy for a race that's coming up."

"I'm like the.... top driver in the world.... but, whatever...."

"I'm like a God in Mexico City. They love me. I'm the top driver in the world."

"I don't even act anymore... you have to make sacrifices when you're the top driver in the world."

(When asked about Helio Castroneves, the REAL top driver in the world)

"He lost on Dancing with the Stars. I'll beat him no problem."

and

"I race cars for a living. I'm probably the top driver in the world."

Alan Thicke, Jason Biggs, that dude who won "The Apprentice," and that blonde lady that Fred Thompson fired from his office for being a lesbo on Law and Order were there, too. Oh yeah, and a bunch of tennis stars.

They all graciously spared me the details of what they're "best in the world" at.

Anyway, I was Over-Served once again, and left feeling sunburnt and angry at the Ritz for inviting Frankie Muniz.

All in all... a very nice couple of days on the Ritz's dime. The face value for all four tickets was over $1,000, so I suppose that we can't be too angry at the Ritz.

But we probably will.

I did get bitten by a FIRE ANT while I was there.




I think I'll sue them AND Frankie Muniz.

Ta.

Pumk'd

This is a rooster from Smith's Cove. We haven't named him, yet.... Any ideas?

WELL, there's depressingly little to report. The agency has me "proctoring tests" again this week at the Med School.

"Proctoring" is Latin/Canadian for "Sitting in Frozen Silence." The one bit of excitement is every two hours or so I get to go "SSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!" and furrow my brow. Good stuff.

SO, instead of talking about Scantrons or the Bathroom sign-out sheet, I'm going to talk about the pumpkin I roasted yesterday.



Pumpkin grows year-round here in Cayman. It's a staple food that accompanies island-style cuisine and thickens soups and stews. We buy a pumpkin every week and put it into burritos, on pizzas, and even over ice cream.



Once you've selected your pumpkin, cut the big boy into halves.

With a stout metal spoon, scrape out the fibers and seeds.



Chop and Peel the flesh to uniform size, making sure to rinse well to remove any grit or remaining peel.



Spread onto a baking sheet. Drizzle with Olive Oil and toss with salt, pepper, sugar, and a savory herb.

We use local fresh Thyme, although Sage or Rosemary would be just as delicious.

We also add chopped Vidalia Onion and a couple cloves of Garlic, though it works just as well without.



Bake in a 375 degree oven for about 45 minutes, tossing every ten minutes or so.

Once the house smells so good you can no longer stand it (and the pumpkin mashes with almost no pressure) it's time to eat.



It's traditionally served along with Rice and Peas or roasted breadfruit.

I've referenced breadfruit before... it's a starchy fruit that you treat the same as you would potato. I roasted some of that yesterday, as well... it looks like this:



If savory isn't your thing, you can roast the pumpkin with almond oil, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar, which also makes the house smell incredible. This is what it looks like:



Warm spiced pumpkin with Vanilla Ice Cream or cold Rice Pudding is like a religious experience. (It's even more religious if you use Soy Dream/So Delicious or Vegan Rice Pudding... hahaha)

Speaking of Religious, make sure not to tip the pan when you're moving it in and out of the oven to toss during roasting. The hot oil can run down to the tipping point, soak through your oven-mitt, and give you a nasty grease burn.

Like this one:



I say Religious, because I took the Lord's name in vain over and over again whilst clutching my thumb. It was ALMOST as bad a KILLER BEE STING!!!!!!

Anyway, back to pumpkins:

The Halloween-variety Pumpkin (called the "Oil Pumpkin") has flesh the is much too fibrous to eat, so you may not want to try this on the leftover Jack-o-Lantern on your porch.

You CAN, however, roast the seeds, which are healthy and delicious. We toss them in salads and they add a marvelous depth of flavor.



And... If you have the expeller attachment for your KitchenAid mixer, you can extract the oil from the seeds. It's incredibly healthy, and is all the rage on the gourmet scene right now.

In fact, splashing the deep green pumpkin seed oil over scrambled eggs creates one-half of Dr. Seuss's famous dish. (insert Sam I Am joke here)

Alright, enough pumpkin talk. If cooking isn't your thing, you'll just have to come and visit so I can make it for you.

Soon.

Ta.

Number of Things that Went Wrong This Week:

Not quite that many, but still... a rotten week by any measure.

Highlights include :

- leaving my ATM card in the machine and living in almost constant terror that they're stealing the few measley dollars that we have.

- being offered a job at FedEx, then being told that it might not start for a FEW MONTHS.

- Kristi getting a call from her boss at 4:40pm on Friday "letting her know" that, despite no previous notification, this was a "working weekend." Kristi was supposed to be moving furniture (which she remembered well from her Master's Studies...)

- We show up early on Saturday to "work." No one else does.

- ANOTHER FIRE ANT bite on my hand, which has since become infected.

- MU's loss to whoever those inbred meatheads were.

Anyway, this is just the tip of the iceberg, but in this case the iceberg is composed of frozen sewage. The week was lousy.... almost "we're getting out of here" lousy. We'll keep you posted.


Enough whining.

Kristi ran on a relay team for the Cayman Islands Marathon this morning, for which we got up at 3:30am, still angry from MU's stinging loss. There were a total of about 500 runners, most of whom were also on relay teams.

It was nice to have breathing room after being stranded so many times before among the droves of people who turn out for Chicago and Boston's marathons.

Her team did well, and she overtook 5 runners that had gotten their handoff before her. I think it was this intimidating pre-run flexing that got them scared....



I was proud her performance, but pride faded back into this week's standard-issue simmering rage when I stepped into a puddle of ice-runoff and vomit by the finish line. In flip-flops.

I've showered and napped, and have calmed down. I'm crossing my fingers that this week will be better.

Until then, I'm taking refuge in this local vegetable pizza that I just made:



...this Partagas Serie P No. 2.....



...and this lovely Flor de Caña 12 year old Nicaraguan rum.



Until then....