One Too Many Paintings...

I was looking through my scrapbook...

...oh, who am I kidding, there is no scrapbook - just a jumble of pictures in a box...

...the other day and I found my pictures from when we went to Europe in 1994.

We went with a group from my high school led by my art teacher, Mrs Costes. 

Mrs Costes was...

...well, potentially...

a little crazy. 

And I say that in the very nicest sense of the word. 

She was Greek and fun and loud but could also be very serious and stern at times. 

Among the many cool jobs she has held: activities director on a cruise ship, teacher and tour guide.

Who knows what else she did?

This was the trip that we rode the bus on a lot. 

Apparently, we slept on the bus a lot too. 

And it's the trip that I fell in love with Italy and especially Capri on. 

Oh, Capri...

There was also a pretty dang funny story that involved a nude beach but due to the participants involved now being fine, upstanding citizens with children I'll refrain. 

Just know that...

No, Paula. Stop. Stop Right there.

On this trip we took we saw a heck of a lot of art. 

We were in Europe after all. 

However...

I think we might have seen too much art. 

How do I know this?

Because of these pictures I found:

I noticed that the farther we got into the trip the more posed my pictures look.

In fact, in most of these pictures it looks like the flowers are eating me.

Seriously, what was I doing with those flowers?

Lay off the flowers, woman.

Mrs Costes would have grabbed one of the flowers and tangoed with it. 

I was content to just stand next to it. 

Well, stand next to it and be all up in it's business.

What can I say?

I'd see one too many Monets.

I had not seen one too many nude Grandmothers like some of my heathen friends had but...

Dang it!

I wasn't going to go there.

Let's blame it on the art. 

And the flowers.