Hey Babes, That's Travel

I entered Costa Rica under the impression that my travel paints might gather a lovely synopsis of foliage and water bugs.

I exited Costa Rica with a broken colon, four dollars, and a black eye.

It  takes over two weeks to work parasitic bugs out of your system and your ravaged intestines leave you with disorders that require trips to urgent care, Walgreens, and the pro-biotic section of the farmers market. 

All your friends might start calling you "HEMMY", but hey, it's better than "DECEASED."

A Ferocious Skin Trade

A Ferocious Skin Trade

Re-entry is fun:

Water is free, good microbrews are just right near that water (oh, I'm sorry, this applies when re-entering the Pacific Northwest. It's really such a true thing...)

Your friends often believe you nearly starved and/or drank sewage, so they feed you fresh sushi and gift cards! But, the truth is, you poisoned your intestines with local ice at the local beachside 2 for 1 mojito show.....

"IT'S SO DELICIOUS, WHAT ARE THESE, FRESH LIME BITS!? IS THAT A FUCKING MONKEY?

Friends, it WAS a monkey, and monkeys are dangerous. That's why, when vomiting and shitting in your hacienda for hours straight after midnight, it is SMART to keep that window closed.

Yoga? No. Dysentery? Yes.

Yoga? No. Dysentery? Yes.

Monkeys are there

They don't like you. 

Scorpions don't like you. 

Iguanas don't  like you.

Suffocate yourself.

It was scary/infuriating to be lost in the crocodile estuary while perched on paddle boards until the rescue boat arrived.

I'm a really good surfer.

I'm a really good surfer.

 

My eye socket has permanently taken the shape of that surfboard that knocked me semi-conscious. 

Tabi doesn't actually have malaria, so there's truly a silver lining to every cloud.

Macheted head

Macheted head

 

 

 

 

We'll never know the cause of death to that poor boa constrictor that washed up on our feet with the undigested rodent in its belly, but hey, life is FULL of mystery.

 

Portland meets Costa Rica

Portland meets Costa Rica

Tabi and I arrived home on our layover flight in LA to the tune of milkshakes and reliable plumbing. (cheeseburgers)

I arrived to my mom's illness.

Tabi arrived to the reality of grad school.

Arrival is grounding. 

Remembering is funny.

 

I find my current schedule so confusing:

When I wake up,

do I exercise? 

Do I visit my mother at the hospital?

What's Tabi doing?

Do I walk the dogs first?

Do I make my husband pancakes at least once this week?

Do I really wake up?

How do I paint? Anything. All of this.

I took a long vacation to take a long break from all of this.

This was a fluke.

This was a fluke.

Pelicans fly pretty close to the surface of the ocean. While you are jumping waves or trying to catch the next surf, something might look good to a pelican, so it flies quite high above the  situation, tucks its thick self deep against its body and dive bombs the moment like a mission.

GODDAMMIT, LET'S BE PELICANS.

(If you wanna take the risk of going to Costa Rica to get that pelican adrenaline flow, that's fine, but really it was quite a dangerous adventure and I've been quite sick since, so if you just wanna trust me, it was MAJESTIC.)

I am home now, waking  up, Cheerios, delivering stool samples, running out of toothpaste and picking up twelve packs of La Croix soda water. 

My dogs have not had a bath in weeks, I literally can not keep my internal intestines inside my bowels, deadlines are looming, I need a vacation from the vacation,

but hell, I am painting.

Me gusta.

-Gretchen