Pura Vida

Pura Vida: (Poo-ra Vee-da) As Costa Rica’s official slogan, tourists may hear this term very often. Directly translated it means “pure life,” although Costa Ricans use it in a plethora of different contexts. For example, locals use it to replace the word goodbye, you’re welcome, and thank you. It is also a common response to many questions (for example “how are you?” or “how was your day?”) and it translates to “awesome” or “great.”

Well, that's according to Google's dictionary.

According to the RP/KP dictionary, "Pura Vida" = "Thanksgiving is awesome."

The nice thing about Costa Rica is, it’s so hot that your skin constantly glistens to the point you look like you’ve been lubed up for a Mr. Universe competition (see photos below). Not to mention that using a hairdryer or applying makeup in Central America are complete exercises in futility, so getting ready for breakfast is a 10-minute tops process.

That left approximately 23 hours and 50 minutes each day to enjoy the pura vida in Guanacaste, Costa Rica.

And we did. I thought I’d spend this vacation splurging on sleep (read: sleeping in til 7 am). Instead, I was up at 5:30 most mornings just because the sun was too and the landscape was calling my name.

The landscape, of course, included 80-degree ocean water, long dirt roads (perfect for a sweltering run), picturesque beach-front cafes, black sand, and a personal infinity pool. Of course, it also involved beetles the size of my thumb, tiny jellyfish that had their way with RP, and enough mosquitos to provide West Nile virus to a Russian Army (not a bad defense were we to wage another cold war).

Our five-day Price Familiy Vacation (we brought the kids), included all of the following:

• Sunset swimming on Avellanas Beach upon our arrival
• Girl’s Thanksgiving lunch at Lola’s, an adorable beach-front café with their very own pet pig (see photo – that’s actually not me after Thanksgiving dinner)
• Thanksgiving Dinner at Villa Daveena, a French Restaurant in Costa Rica, owned by a Portuguese couple and decorated in the Balinese style. Diversity aside, it was delicious. RP ate my pumpkin pie, but I got both our portions of whipped cream. Score.
• Holding a moment of silence (and trying not to kill our friend Pete) upon finding out he’d ran over a monkey and her baby. RIP, sweet monkey family.
• Getting pulled over for speeding along a dirt road and told that a Costa Rica speeding ticket was “Sixteen-hundred dollar. Muy Caro. No bueno.” Luckily cops are easily bribed with $40 cold hard USD’s.
• Surfing with RP at Playa Grande. He ditched the boys for the afternoon and surfed the small stuff with his wife (the fact that my swimsuit top came off every time I got off a wave might have swayed him to stick around).
• Swimming with RP in a tropical rainstorm. Warm ocean water below; warm rain water above: nothing better.
• Taking cold showers all but one day before RP showed me the difference between the hot and cold water handles.
• An 11-cable zip line tour through the jungle, where we saw howler monkeys and determined that they’re even more obnoxious than me.
• Breakfast date with RP at KonTiki, where breakfast is “French toast, or oma-let.” We went for oma-let.
• Frying up some plantains with RP, then sadly assigning him to sprinkle the sugar. Said plantains were INCREDIBLY salty. Go figure.
• Spending our entire month’s grocery budget on staples like peanut butter and Coca Light. Totally worth it.
• Realizing that, if left hungry long enough, boys will eventually cook you dinner.
• Falling asleep in the sun on the hot sand. Rinse. Repeat.
• Chatting it up with a Costa Rican waiter named Javier (who asked if we were “movie girls” – the flattery worked and we tipped generously), an Israeli surfer boy named Eran, and a Dubai-dwelling, British pilot named David.
• Getting an in-house (ocean-facing balcony) couple’s massage with Rick’s friend Pete (RP was suffering skin disease). Mine was deep-tissue and sometimes bordered on excruciating, but the masseuse threw in some boob-touching free of charge.
• Treating RP for jellyfish stings upon returning home. Pobrecito.
• Coming home to Christmastime. Let the winter games begin.

Gratitude (and Peace Out, America)

There’s just a few short hours left until Thanksgiving, and since I’ll be an expatriate for this most American of holidays (yeah, Canada, I said it), I thought it best to document my gratitude early.

This year especially, I have lots to be thankful for – and not just because Target opened within a 5-mile vicinity of my house or the fact that they’re doing one more season of Arrested Development (although these items should, by no means, be ignored).

For one, I spent the better part (keyword here: better) married to RP, who is a near-perfect husband (keyword here: near). I don’t know how I ended up deserving this devastatingly handsome man who puts up with me chewing a pack of gum and drinking 2-3 diet cokes each day, reprogramming all his radio presets to Christmas stations, and taking up a new (and most likely expensive) hobby/obsession every 28 days. Not to mention he makes the bed every morning, cleans the house, understands my need for multiple gym memberships, and makes sure I never have to wash a car (not that I ever would).

I’m also thankful for erythritol. This all-natural, zero-calorie sweetener has changed my outlook on life—and peanut butter cookies (please don’t turn out to be some ultra-radioactive carcinogen that turns my muscles to mush and my babies into monkeys).

I’m awfully thankful for funny people – like Kristen Wiig, Fred Armisen, RP, and my papa. They make life (and evening television programming) all kinds of fun.

I’m super grateful there wasn’t another “Doppelganger Week” on Facebook this year.

I’m thankful that RP has begun to warm to the idea of having children. By “warm,” I mean he no longer refers to them as inanimate objects (“it,” “that thing”) and now talks about them with distant possibility in his voice (“when we’re old and have nothing left to live for and have a baby……”).

I wanted to limit the number of food items that made my list this year (usually they take up about 93 %), but I need to express my love for gourds. Especially pumpkins. Your seeds are delicious. You roast up beautifully, and as it turns out, you’re very simple to make a pie out of – no can required.

I’m thankful for Jet Blue and Virgin America. Other airlines, you suck.

I’m terribly grateful for Amazon.com. From Kindle books to dietary supplements to Rafe handbags, you bring me everything I want with free second-day shipping. That’s my kind of man – I mean website.

I’m thankful for early-morning boot camp. And even though I threw out my back and suffered four months of sciatic nerve pain from it, it totally rocks.

I’m thankful that, with all the screwed up families in the world, I ended up with TWO of the best. The Radfords and Prices are pretty great peeps.

I’m grateful to Joe’s Jeans for now making shirts and t-shirts. RP is not grateful that I now own about 7 of their plaid button-ups.

I’m thankful for Erik Larsson. Your books have made 2011 that much more knowledgeable.

I’m thankful for Sprouts Farmer’s Market. Where else would I buy wheat bran, psyllium husks and whey protein isolate in bulk?

I’m grateful for Steve Jobs. Thanks for making the world so much cooler and eliminating boredom from the lives of anyone with an iPhone.

I’m thankful for Michael Vick – even if I wouldn’t let him puppy-sit.

I’m grateful for Groupon (and desperately wish I’d come up with it myself). In 2011, it’s been responsible for countless new restaurants, cheap movie tickets, and RP’s 20/15 vision.

I’m REALLY REALLY thankful for awesome wedding gifts. And even though I have yet to send out all my thank you’s (I have a year, right), I really am going to. Promise.

I’ll say it again, like I have in two previous posts: Happy Thanksgiving, all

Eat This, Hunger.

As previously discussed, RP and I will be fleeing the country next week.

That in mind, we didn't want those in our community to also (possibly) spend a Thanksgiving without turkey. That's why we joined my company this weekend at the Orange County Food Bank.

Because I've always tried to fight hunger. In fact, I fought it so hard when I was a teenager I was a size 16.

Now I usually just fight it with protein cleverly disguised as baked goods.

But this weekend, I brought the sweat of my brow to the fight. RP was a great sport, turning himself into an apple-juice hauling slave to a loud, middle-aged woman who screamed at him for a good 2 hours. His only complaint was quietly whispering to me,

"honey... that woman thinks I'm her B----"

As for me, I broke down boxes like they were rhymes (or my emotions during the third week of the month).

Later, we rememberd our emnity toward hunger and avoided it at all costs throughout the day - starting with popcorn (heavy on the butter) at the movies and ending with our fav Peruvian food (with Dippin' Dots and fro yo somewhere in the mix).

So long, hunger. Hello, Thanksgiving!

Feliz Dia del Pavo!

It may only be mid-November, but I felt the time was at hand to address a small, insidious issue in the Price household.

RP and I have very, very different opinions on the holidays. I may be mostly Swedish and Welsh, but I am 96 percent certain that I am at least 1/16 Elven (from the North Pole line).

Take Thanksgiving, for instance. I love getting up early, helping my mother prepare the turkey (and by “help,” I mean pick water chestnuts out of the stuffing as it sautés), watch the Macy’s parade and roll out pie dough. Then I like to throw back 10 – 20 diet cokes and go for a long run to work up an appetite. Follow that by stuffing myself silly, catching a Christmas-themed flick, playing games, and starting on leftovers approximately 4 hours after dinner is over, and you have a well-spent holiday.

RP, however, likes to sit on a beach in nowhere, Baja, miles from civilization (or turkeys) and make Thanksgiving dinner from a can of black beans and a few peeled potatoes, solely in the company of his lady-fearing friends.

Of course, for me, Thanksgiving weekend gets really interesting on Friday, which I prefer to spend decorating, shopping, and eating leftovers. RP likes to spend it sitting on a beach in nowhere, Baja, miles from civilization, making dinner from a can of black beans and a few peeled potatoes, solely in the company of his lady-fearing friends.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

But, the Prices are learning to compromise. And this year, we will be eating Thanksgiving dinner.

We’ll just be eating it in Playa Negra, Costa Rica. I’ll be able to catch the parade and successfully prove to my husband that I really am still a surfer girl – as long as the water never dips below 80 degrees.

So trade a morning run for a jungle zipline, a diet coke for a coca lite, and a reindeer sweater for a swimsuit, and this holiday, like those of yore, should be a yuletide (albeit sun-drenched) treat.

RP and I have had several enlightening conversations on the subject:

KP: “So you made reservations for Thanksgiving dinner.”
RP: “Yes, it’s at the hotel Playa Negra. They have great prime rib.”
KP: “Prime rib?”
RP: “Yeah, it’s really good. It’s beef that’s---“
KP: “I know what prime rib is, dummy. I mean why is that applicable for Thanksgiving?”
RP: “Umm…”
KP: “Will there be turkey?”
RP: “Turkey?”
KP: “Yes, you might know it from such hits as…. I don’t know… Thanksgiving?”
RP: “I’ll call them back.”

Market Update

In case you were thinking that RP was the market-savvy partner in this Pricey duo, think again. As of today...

I AM TOTALLY WINNING THE AMAZING PRICE CHALLENGE: STOCK MARKET EDITION.

Thanks, Google and real estate data company Core Logic.

Oh, and my superior brainwaves.

My 2K has already made 15% earnings in two months.

But don't be sorry... RP isn't lacking for talent.

See below; Mi amor is both cute AND crafty.