As it turns out, I have little to no interest in blogging.
However, since I have no other form of journaling to speak of (ADD much?) I
feel it’s time to write a brief update on my life (and here my employer thinks
I like writing).
Things around the Price household have heated up. Literally.
We have super cool wood ceilings in our place. Except they’re not super cool.
They’re not even remotely cool actually. The insulation sucks, and in response
I have been sleeping like a roasted pig every night, with only a slightly
cooler ocean breeze to offer relief.
First world problems.
The spring has been relatively uneventful other than a few eventful events (are you following?). We spent Memorial Day in the southlands as we headed to Baja with some friends. It's always a little sketchy driving under that "Welcome to Mexico" sign, but we managed to have a fun weekend of sunbathing, lobster eating, and people (and horse) watching.
Other highlights of the spring involve an Angels game, dinner and a play in San Diego, some awkward dancing at a friend's wedding, and some Saturdays spent like this:
Then it got hot. And speaking of hot, RP and I had a particularly exciting 4th
of July this year, whereupon we folded laundry and spent a couple hours
perusing Barnes and Noble (I like to study the archaic species that still buys
physical books). Then we had a little cookout with some fantastic friends and
watched the fireworks SoCal style (on the beach at the end of our block).
The next morning, I flew to Washington to spend the long
weekend with some Radfords, while RP headed to central Cali to spend the long
weekend with some fish. Turns out both groups were pretty hospitable.
Kennewick was just as I left it – 100 degrees with excellent
taco trucks. The weekend activities included swimming with a swarm of handsome
boys (and pretty girls), practicing cannon balls while my mother critiqued my
form (I’ve decided to forgo Rio 2016), a barbecue, a Mexican fiesta, a trip to
the aforementioned taco trucks (sans Mom who would “never eat off those filthy
trucks”), and some good old-fashioned summertime chats on the porch. It was
nice to get reacquainted with the misery of running 6 or 7 miles at 6 a.m. in
85-degree weather, and the even more painful misery of chasing a weimerainer
around the neighborhood after accidentally leaving the door open (that’s one
mistake I’ll only make once).
To top off a great weekend, I spent ALL of Monday in the
Pasco airport, delayed 8 hours by our friends at Allegiant. Once back in LA, I
waited another hour for my bag and then made it to my car, only to find a
freeway closure and a 45-minute detour on my trek south. Upon arriving home (at
2 a.m.), I was a tired, angry version of the wife RP once knew and loved.
Other updates in our lives include our now concrete plans
for the holiday season: Thanksgiving in Utah, Christmas in New Zealand. After
spending last Christmas in a tiny
Buddhist village in the middle of the Himalaya, this actually sounded like a
festive option. I’ve been promised a proper Christmas dinner and even a
fireplace (albeit in the middle of the Southern Hemisphere summer).
I also recently got a new calling in church teaching Relief
Society (women), which is now the bane of my existence, as I truly detest
speaking in front of people. It’s always frightened me, but add a pair of
Sunday high-heels on my feet and a 24-hour retainer in my mouth and the sky’s
the limit as to the mayhem and humiliation that may ensue.
Other than that, our San Clemente summer has been pretty
quiet. So quiet, in fact, that we (read: RP) have very few things to look
forward to since we finished the last season of Breaking Bad. Aside from
waiting for the new season to start (pins and needles!), we really only have
The Bachelorette, So You Think You Can Dance and on-demand episodes of Newsroom
to keep us company. In fact, just the other night, I told RP at about 8:30 p.m.
that I really wanted to just lay in bed and read F Scott Fitzgerald and he
responded with, “But honey! The Bachelorette! It’s hometowns!” And we thought the bunny thing was weird.
Speaking of RP, I should state here how proud I am of his
recent nutritional improvements. He not only claimed to be giving up sugar
“until the 4th of July,” but promptly went back off sugar on the 5th (after eating his mom’s famous
peach pie and some homemade peach pie ice cream and a couple chocolate chip
cookies and just a little bit of a spiced brownie). He has been surprisingly
dedicated, and now checks nutrition labels like they’re stock options. While he
hasn’t yet given up grains and starchy vegetables (just give me another two
years), his dedication has inspired some primo primal baking of my own. And
after a sugar fast like his, RP even deemed my delicacies a raving “pretty
good.”
In fact, he even kept his diet in check when we had lunch with Brett and Krystle at RP's beloved Phil's BBQ. RP took advantage of the occasion by getting revenge for my Instagram #rickholdsbabies series. Ok, I confess, I'm not a natural.
Signing off, til the next time I feel the need to write up a
catch-up-word-vomit post.
Xoxo.
