To be continued

Sorry for no posts...off to the Caribbean to watch turtles lay eggs..

To Be Continued.

Procrastination Station

I spent all day yesterday procrastinating the task of cleaning my house.

Okay really, I procrastinated that task all week last week.

I found every other mundane task on my to do list and got it done. I was creating projects for myself rather than doing the one I knew I needed to do.

I found really bad TV shows that were just too enthralling to walk away from. I had to watch The Bourne Ultimatum when I found it on TNT, with commercials even, because I've only seen it a handful of times before. I had to reorganize and control my friend settings on Facebook and clean out my junk mail inbox. I also went through my own pictures on Facebook about 74 times to ensure I remember all the fun times and that nothing inappropriate is tagged. This week, I couldn't just create lesson plans, I had to research every aspect of them and decide if they would be successful in my classes. I found articles and books that I've been meaning to read for months that all of the sudden had an immediate sense of urgency to my life.

Finally, before bed last night I broke down and within 15 minutes the whole house was spick-and-span.

The most amazing thing is had any one of those activities mentioned above been the task at hand, I probably would've cleaned my house as a way to procrastinate getting it done.

My parents messed up when I was born because I really believe my true middle name should've been "Procrastination."

Now I'm just stuck in Procrastination Station.

Red Bull gives you what?

Red Bull is not okay for me.

I turn into a hyper, babbling, looney tunes alien when I drink Red Bull.

I blame my good friend Kate Heilmann* for the fact that I even know this. Kate was part of the despedida época a few weeks back. That was when all of my friends decided to leave Costa Rica at once.

Well, we had several great going away parties for Kate about a month ago. Thanks to Kate's indecisiveness, easily swayed attitude, and ability to write off plane ticket change fees though, we had a few more days for another chance to squeeze in a few more despedidas.

After staying out a tad bit late on Friday night, we were moving slowly on a rainy Saturday in San José. The farthest we made it from home was to stop in to say hello to Patricia, our Madre Tica around the corner, and then hit up the local AM/PM for some snacks.

It was a little like we were having a wake. Throughout the day different people passed in and stayed for a few minutes to pay their respects to Kate before she departed. It was easy on us, we didn't have to go anywhere.

It was tiring to be the hostess though. I was really trying hard to ensure everyone's snack needs were met and there was a chair cleared off for them to sit on. I was pooped by the end of the day.

Kate however still somehow convinced me to make another go at it for her final night. Since, much like Kate, I am also indecisive and easily swayed, she didn't have to work to hard.

We bought a bottle of wine and headed over to say goodbye to Patricia, our Madre Tica. We conveniently headed over at dinner time and acted pleasantly surprised when we were offered lasagna. I feigned that I could only eat a little because I was already a little llena from a late lunch- which Kate promptly very vocally called me out on. I was just trying to play it cool.

It was a fun night of story telling and reminiscing, lots of recuerdos were remembered and made. We shared stories and memories of all the good friends that have passed though Patty's house. Patricia could write a book with the endless stories of the crazy gringuitos she has played Madre Tica to. She was getting so fired up from the stories and may have even whacked Christian a couple of times in the passionate throes of storytelling.

Innocent so far but now the Red Bull comes into play.

With bellies full and aching from laughing, we left Patricia and headed to Bar Morazan by Parque Morazan where we were meeting up with friends. On the way we stopped at a gas station to use the ATM and Kate suggested I buy a Red Bull to perk up. I don't drink Red Bull, but for some reason in moments like this if someone suggests it to me, it sounds like a good idea.

I slowly sipped my can of Red Bull with my pinkie out in the back of the taxi en camino. By the time we got to the bar, I realized I had made a mistake and was beginning to see the signs of the talkative monster I become when I drink Red Bull. I talked without coming up for air for the next 12 hours.

Then, I dove face first into the bed and crashed hard for two hours before being told it was time to start Kate's final despedida.

Post crash, Kate reminded me that she had seen this alien come out once before on the only other occasion that she had seen me drink Red Bull. Thank you Kate for reminding me when Nick Poché* forced me to drink Red Bull in Manuel Antonio over New Year's.

Así es la vida!

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of parties involved.

Tough Life

Getting back into the swing of things was really difficult considering the laborious nature of my job.

I worked three hours this week.

I spent more money getting to work in taxis because I was running late than I got paid. Well, probably just half of this week's salary went to those taxistas. The other half went to post-work, wind-down, de-stress beers. I mean, I at least have to play the part of working woman, right?

One would think that with only one class to teach starting at noon, I might be able to leave the house on time. It was quite the opposite however. The less I have to do, the less I do.

Here's a snapshot of one of my workdays this week. I am awakened by the neighborhood children and my crazy landlord playing in the streets at 7 am. Then I roll over and continue sleeping until I get out of bed around 9. Then it's on to Facebook and G-chat. I usually set a time limit for myself to restrain my Facebook stalking, but I don't usually stick to limits well in general. Facebook usually cuts into shower time which pushes back the whole morning.

By 11 am I usually realize that I am supposed to be leaving the house within 15 minutes and I force myself off Facebook and into the shower. By then, I've resigned to the fact that I won't be taking the bus to work.

I walk into class right on time at 12 on the dot usually. Class is over by 1:30 and then the real danger sets in. I have to walk through the mall to get to the bus stop. This means I am buying something, either a new pair of shoes or at least an overpriced lunch. Then I catch the bus and make my way back to my neighborhood.

I get off the bus in my neighborhood at the corner where my friend Nena runs a cafe. This is my next stop. I sit and have a coffee on the terrace and Nena sits and chats with me between customers.

I make it home just in time for the afternoon rain which leaves no other option but to enjoy a little siesta time. After that, it's out for dinner and drinks to keep my social life alive and well.

Now do you understand my tough life?

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

Thank you to my loyal followers for allowing me a vacation.

There might be no better place on earth than Chicago in the summer when the weather is nice.

There was so much fun to be had and I tried to have it all. I was left limping a couple of days from walking around the city so much in cute but terrible for your feet flat sandals. I squeezed in so much to my ten days in Chicago that now I want a vacation to recover.

Sadly though, there is no rest for the weary. I have to get back to my grueling schedule of 25 hours per week in this tropical paradise. Life is so hard, sometimes I just think there aren't enough hours in the day.

I have lots of stories and pictures of my culture shock, daily adventures, rapprochement dinners, and just general gallivanting coming soon.