Happy Halloween, Doll Face

From a couple of toys in love.

(special thanks go to RP's shapely legs)

October = Terror

October may be a frightening month, with its demons and devils and buckets of anxiety-laced (for me) chocolate. But last year, October brought a slow and insidious terror for both RP and me, one that threatened to unnerve even the most stalwart of hearts.

We got engaged.

Truth be told, the night RP proposed in the San Diego mountains of Julian, I slept with my hand closed into a tight fist for fear that he’d reconsider and take my ring away.

And after five whirlwind months of trying on dresses, searching for dessert recipes and trying to convince my mother that I really didn’t care where our reception was, we even got married.

Of course, engagements do have their pleasantries, namely the intriguing things I found out about RP inthe process.

• He has opinions. On things like wedding cake flavors and his own attire.


• He had no idea that engagement rings and wedding bands were two separate (andrecommended) entities.


• His analytics know no bounds. I say this after spending 6 straight weekends in a row with himtrying to find us a suitable apartment (note that “suitable” says little about its interior andeverything about its proximity to a good surfing beach).


• He has priorities – like requesting work off for his yearly Mexico Thanksgiving trip and neglecting to mention he may need a few days to tie the knot (he did cut said trip short to spend Turkeyday with me, however)


• He’s logical to a fault (the fault being that he advised me to fix the clutch in my car rather thanhave pre-wedding cosmetic surgery. He lost.).
  

One year later, I'm not even sick of this old ring.

Thanks for making it through the scary part, RP.

Color Me Crafty

Sometimes, usually between the hours of noon and five, I have the undeniable urge to be domestic--complete with visions of homemade petit fours and handmade Christmas stockings dancing through my head. While "Homemaker K" may last throughout the better part of my afternoon meetings, this feeling usually dissipates by the time I make it home at night. In fact, when RP walks through the door I’m usually watching Gossip Girl and eating cottage cheese in my gym clothes.

That said, now and then I find myself Michaels or Joann’s during the weekday lunch hour while creative inspiration still has me in its grasp.

Such was the case of the Halloween wreath.

I report the following not because it’s a marvelous work of festive brilliance, but because it represents something bigger than Halloween – the fact that I actually finished a creative project.

We’ll see now if the unfinished Christmas stockings currently lying on my coffee table will have the same fate. Wish me (and my fickle domestic side) luck.

Birthdays are for Lovers

Warning: The following photos may disturb you.

This week, RP was forced into a terrible realization:

He's married to a 29 year-old.



Notwithstanding my less-than graceful aging, RP was a great supporter of October the 6th. I woke on my birthday to a decorated house, care of RP:


I also found a beautifully-wrapped gift at dinner that night, care of Christmas wrapping paper and Independence Day ribbon:


Inside, however, was nothing to joke about: (he's good at jewelry)


Oh, but later that night, there were more gifts to come (note that the wrapping paper had been a four-pack, but then RP realized he needed something to wrap it with)


Of more exciting note, I received pearls and Cary Grant movies from my family, and Kate Spade china from the Price's. Color me spoiled.


The true birthday star was the black bean chocolate cake we made for the occasion. Legumes and erithrytol has never tasted so good (seriously, it was amazing):


Birthday weekend continued with a trip to Knott's Berry Farm on Saturday. After realizing there were no actual berries there, I quieted my disappointment and enjoyed a day of roller coasters and the realization that I really AM getting super old (read: motion sickness).


Birthday weekend ended with Peruvian lamb stew and seafood soup. Rick ate my mussel because my palette is not yet 29.


Here's to being "mature" (and slightly more wrinkly).

Price Family Expansion

As was illustrated in the events of last weekend, it's become apparent that I'm married to a tease.

I was skeptical when RP first suggested we pay a visit to the San Clemente animal shelter. I knew he loved dogs, but I also knew that he feared responsibility with terror that surpasses anything Hitchcock ever wrote.

Still, I held a hope in my little heart of hearts that RP was really taking me to the shelter in order to expand our little family.

As it turns out, there's very little sub-text when it comes to guys.

Even after I met Marley (I had big plans for a legal name change, lest acquaintances assume my only creative drive was cultivated from sappy Owen Wilson movies), RP's desire to remain an island of isolation didn't budge.


All of my moping about did little to sway his decision.

But fear not, readers, for RP realized that in my desperate plea for a puppy what I really needed was the addition of another living thing to our family.

That's when RP drove me to a nursery.



Meet Albert.

Plant and father are doing fine.