My "Tray Table" Is Always In A Locked And Upright Postition, Baby!

This really was a great time. I wish I'd never stopped. Why did I? I could've cranked out a "Mars Needs Bibles" a year, gone to various locations. Can't afford it now. But that tax-deduction did make it easier. I kick myself. Maybe I'll start getting some of the new stuff out. This was a Halloween post, but not scary. Wednesday, October 31, 2007

This time tomorrow, I'll be on a southbound airplane. Costa Rica. I have to work on rolling that R. Rrrrrica. Damn, I'm sexy when I roll my Rs. Montalban-esque.

I felt a little bad, leaving a couple weeks ago for the Austin Film Festival. Lisa was going to be here with the boy all alone. And to call the boy a handful is only accurate if you have hands like a catcher's mitt. Two catcher's mitts.

But in this case, we're leaving him with Grandma. I should probably feel worse, but I don't. I expect he'll be better for Grandma than he would be for us. He likes her. I remember the great fondness I had (and still have) for my grandmother. I expect she was hard on my mother, I know she was an emotionally distant woman. But she and I had a connection. We were great friends. And the boy loves his grandparents (both sides) a lot.

They're always wondering why we think he's such trouble, such a good boy... I suspect a lot of that is the fact that grandparents don't really give a damn if they're spoiling the kids and letting them eat chocolate after midnight and swing live cats over their heads. They can see the time coming when they'll be able to leave, and they'll chortle all the way home about how cute the little monster was when he finally passed out from a sugar-crash that could be felt in Finland. Me and Lisa, we're stuck with him until college. Maybe longer than that.

I was talking about Costa Rica, wasn't I?

Reading travel books about the place we're going. Montezuma. It's on the Nicoya peninsula. The guide books use phrases like "artist's community" and "bohemian" and even the official website of the tourism board points out that you can find "Rastafarians" and "reggae music" about. Which I presume is code for "you can buy pot here." It's an eco-tourism hotspot, lots of hiking and waterfalls and monkeys. I'm invited to join in morning yoga, and there appear to be a number of fine vegetarian restaurants. Yeeeeah.

Where the official website fails, naturally Wikipedia is there to bat clean up. It tells me that Costa Rica is also a prime "sex tourism" destination, because prostitution is legal there. Although they've apparently been cracking down on the child-sex, so don't call your travel agent just yet. (You know who you are.) They also disbanded their military some years ago. Hell, the child prostitutes should band together and take the place over. They could stage a coup with nail clippers and rubber bands. I'll pack my carry-on with them and commission the troops while I'm there.

My cell phone will be turned off for the week. Which will come as some relief to it, I don't doubt. If you need me, call the home phone. Grandma will be there to take messages. Unless she's tied up on a kitchen chair with a little hellion in an Indian headdress dancing around her waving a rubber tomahawk.