Hell Week Wrap-Up

They say that buying a first home as a couple is an exciting time.

I say it's complete and utter torture.

But maybe that's because our first home isn't exactly picket fences and dutch front doors -- it's more carports and on-site laundry.

That said, I'm pleased to announce that after eight (yes EIGHT) LONG months of trying to buy our little beach triplex, we FINALLY closed.

Walt Disney was right -- Dreams DO come true (at least for RP).

But I can't complain, since RP has promised that said investment will make me rich and with my phenomenal acting skills I'm almost positive I could keep it in the divorce.

Just kidding.

Here's RP happily signing his life away:

And me, at our post-closing dinner, after the xanax kicked in and the salsa/Diet Coke began flowing.

With the stress of the closing done, we relaxed. To the point that we were oblivious to the strategic escape of one long-eared member of the Price household. We woke this morning to find our house sans two long ears and one cotton tail. Luckily, Sadie's hunger for freedom doesn't compare with her hunger for vegetables, and RP found her basking blissfully in the tomato garden. RP hid his disappointment in finding her surprisingly well.

Luckily, the week is ending on a fantastic note -- as I snuck out of work to endulge my childhood fascination with space and drove to Disneyland to see the Endeavour make its final flight.

This excitement of seeing this beauty may only be surpassed when I get home to find THIS beauty waiting in the mail:

Hell week, you didn't turn out half-bad.

Fall Weddings Bring California Prices

It's no great secret that the months of September through December are pretty much the only thing that gets me through the other eight. I'm a pretty big fan of Autumn. I love the changing light, the cooler air (in other parts of the country), the endless options for pumpkin desserts. I even love football season -- although it usually means I fall one more rung on RP's list of priorities (current standings: 1. football 2. surfing. 3. beach triplexes. 4. KP).

Just kidding. Mostly.

This week, I loved fall because I got to spend a bit of it in Utah. Since it'd been a good year since I'd visited the beehive state, I was due for some quality time with some of the world's greatest people. With RP's BFF (sorry, that was a lot of acronyms) getting married, I not only had a few extra hours sans husband to catch up with MY BFF, but I also got some much-needed catch-up time with some of my favorite Prices.

The weekend started with a six-mile run workout with my cute sis-in-law Jessica Saturday morning, wherein we realized that we liked chatting more than we liked running.

Then I got to head downtown for lunch with my bestie. The food at Blue Lemon was second to my long-anticipated meeting of little Miss Delilah -- who was as delightful as she was cute.

After lunch, RP and I were all about romance. Well, not our own. Nearly late for the wedding as-is, we stopped by WalMart to pick up some snacks and goodies to give the new couple a honeymoon basket. Wherein I realized why I don't go to Walmart:

WalMart Checker: "Someone's having a romantic night tonight!"

KP: "(laughs) Not us!"

WalMart Checker: "Your daughter?"

KP: "..........no............"

I'm not sure what's worse about this conversation -- the fact that I look old enough to have an adult daughter or the fact that she would obviously be the person to whom I'm giving honeymoon supplies. Maybe she just thought I was hoping to make the cast of Teen Moms.

After that harrowing experience, we made it to the wedding (and I was classy enough to leave my cane and dentures at home).

RP tried not to steal the show. But I can't say he succeeded:

After this kind of frivolity, luckily we were left to simply enjoy some family time -- and three (yes THREE) football games. What with BYU and USC bringing on the disappointment, I pled with the universe on behalf of the Eagles. Luckily, the Universe took pity, and now Philadelphia is 2-0 and RP has yet to kill himself.

We love you, Utah. Now if only you lived in California. 

This Week in Prices: A Trial Separation

They say if you love something, let it go (surfing).

So last week, that’s what I did with RP.

I let him go. Meaning, I turned him over to the (impeccable) safety of Mexican nationals. Last week, while the real world (read: I) worked for a living and cared for a home and a helpless rabbit, my husband spent a week of frivolity in Oaxaca, Mexico.

Since this is the longest RP and I have ever been separated since we’ve been married, I had to adjust to the alone time. This was not so difficult, it turned out. What with a gym, a big-screen TV, a MacBook and all the shopping malls and sushi restaurants of Orange County at my disposal, I managed to keep myself occupied for the eight long days he spent basking in the Southern Mexican sun.

Evidence I stayed busy:

Not to say I didn’t miss him dearly, but I did manage to come away with a few fun facts:

-          I love someone enough to get up at 4:30 am on a Saturday and drive and hour to the Mexican border. Two years ago I would not have thought this feat possible. And yet there I was, watching RP and his boyfriend walk across the border and out of my life:

-          My mother warned me after RP left that I may have a stalker just waiting for my husband to leave town. I found this wildly flattering.

-          Said stalker did not exist, which I found wildly unflattering.

-          A rabbit is a poor excuse for a guard dog. If a stalker had broken in and happened to have banana chips on their person, I’d have been toast. 

-          Incidentally, with RP gone the apartment stayed splendidly clean.

-          I don’t yell angrily at the TV during Bachelor Pad if RP isn’t watching it too.

-          Nor do I mimic the dance moves on So You Think You Can Dance if RP’s not around.

-     It's beneficial for both parties in an escrow transaction to be in the country when your home purchase is approved, falls through, and gets revived again.

-          Sugary treats just sit around and go stale without RP’s late-night sweet tooth.

-          It’s nice to not rush home to claim whatever UPS or FedEx brought before RP can find it.

-     RP is welcome to Oaxaca anytime he wants to bring me back the motherload of pure cacao:

-          A guilty, well-surfed husband is AWESOME at selecting gifts.

-          Nothing tastes better to a homesick surfer boy than a roast and homemade peach pie.

      -     After returning to the US of A and his lonely, devoted wife, I realized that RP does, in fact, love me.

It's. So. Freaking. Hot.

That's just about all I have to say about the last four weeks or so. And also my excuse for not blogging through any of it. In fact, California has become so unbearable (read: temps higher than 78 degrees), that I have little desire to do an.ee.thing (except take in the scene below).

It's gotten to the point that even the rabbits have lost motivation.

But I'll post the highlights of the past month anyway, for the sake of posterity, vanity, and the two to three people who might actually read it.

A few weeks ago, RP's Granddad passed away, so we headed to Phoenix for the funeral. It was awesome to spend time with the Price crew, and not so awesome to make my second-ever trip to Phoenix in late July (first trip was also in July, so I’ve now added heat-induced misery to radical conservatism in my overall impression of Arizona).

Sadly, I was too hot to take many pics, but it was fun to see RP's reunion with all his Price cousins:

And even more tender to see his reunion with his favorite wiener dog.

And less tender to see him with real human babies.

Also of note, RP and I officially bought tickets to Kathmandu. How do Buddhists say 'Merry Christmas?' The realization that I may contract lice or scabies almost caused me to bag the whole thing. Let's just hope that any parasite I bring back is of the internal variety. I don't appreciate bugs that feed off my skin and scalp but think I could totally get on board with the ones who want to eat fifteen pounds off my body.

While we I were was in the spending spirit, we I bought the MacBook I've been threatening to buy for the better part of our marriage. Now I understand Rick's misgivings about the expenditure; now I don't need a husband to feel fulfilled.

Sadly, in the throes of our shopping sprees, RP and I received a counteroffer for our his dream home beach triplex. Now I've been forced to curb my spending in order to keep us "liquid." Luckily, RP did NOT demand I curb my liquid spending (read: Diet Coke), so I still have a few reasons to live. Yesterday we had this conversation:

KP: "Do you need anything at Target?"
RP: "Windex."
KP: "Ok, I'm just going for the essentials: toilet paper and Windex."
RP: "Don't get toilet paper. I'll just bring it home from work for you like I bring newspapers home for Sadie's box."

Yes, we've officially become Prices in low, low places. (And, apparently, I'm the only one in our household who uses toilet paper. All the better reason to commit only to MacBooks.)

It should be stated once more that it is HOT in California. Like, fear-for-your-rabbit's-hydration-levels hot. And while living 1/2 mile from the beach has its benefits, the lack of air conditioninig is not one of them. And my inability to sleep in non-optimal temperatures is making me a less-than pleasant eternal companion. The other night we came home at 9 pm to a hot, stuffy house, which only exacerbated my exhaustion-induced crankiness. Therefore we had the following conversation.

KP: "I'm going to bed."
RP: "Why don't you watch the Olympics with me?"
KP: "STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO."
RP: "I didn't -- I just thought --"
KP: "YOU JUST THOUGHT THAT BECAUSE I'M YOUR WIFE YOU CAN MAKE ALL MY DECISIONS."
RP: "No... I just --"
KP: "WE GO TO YOUR DOCTOR AND YOUR DENTIST AND BUY YOUR TRI-PLEXES! I CAN GO TO BED IF I WANT!"
RP: "Goodnight, hon."

Yes, California summers really are this glamorous.

Hope you're keeping cool.

Girl's Day (A/K/A I have no friends in Orange County)

Here's the thing about living in Orange County; you're perfectly situated between San Diego and Los Angeles, making it the idea locale. HOWEVER, traffic is so heinous you never see either.

This is problematic when the only friends you have live in one of the two places, and instead of making new friends after work, you prefer to lay on the couch watching reruns of Keeping Up With the Kardashians or reading about knights and dragons whilst simultaneously perusing sample sales online (I'm a remarkable multi-tasker).

But last weekend, I took a dive and drove to--wait for it--Burbank. Nothing against Burbank, but it has one major flaw -- it's even FURTHER than LA. Luckily my friend Julia made the trek with me, wherein after 2 hours in traffic we started to wonder how much we really liked our LA friends.

Not to worry; these fabulous chicas were easily worth the traffic time (and the lack of exits on the 405 north of the 10 when you've both had large diet cokes).

After seeing Erika's and Emily's rad new places (and texting RP to remind him that I hate our apartment), we had a girl's lunch in Hollywood, which would have been followed by shopping had we not had a two-hour trek home.

Now I understand why the pioneers didn't have more girls' shopping days.

Aside from some QT with old friends, I made a wonderful discovery; leaving RP alone for the day makes him uber productive. Not only did he bunny-proof the shed (ever noticed how you never get around to bunny-proofing?), but he even cleaned up the back patio AND got some work done. AND he only texted twice to see where I was.

Maybe I should leave him more often.

Upsurd Updates: July Edition

Not worthy of posts in and of themselves, I thought I'd regale you with the recent inconsequential happenings at the Price household:

#1:

RP and I are in escrow on an apartment building right now. Good news: all the apartments dwarf our current one, and the building is seven houses from the San Clemente sand.

Bad news: it’s a short sale and I’ve been hearing “We should hear something definite early next week” since early February.

Due to the fact that I’m about to go all Sylvia Plath and stick my head in our (very old and very small and very dirty) oven, RP went about “improving” our standard of living last weekend, by hiring a maid and then deciding that “we” should go through “our” things to de-junk.

Interpretation:  He’ll open all of my boxes so we can decide which of my life’s possessions are worth keeping. Which, apparently, is about 20 percent of them.

KP: “But those are Theory!”

RP: “So they go in the “sell” pile and not the “giveaway” pile?”

The maid thing rocks though.

#2:

The bunny-moon is over. RP is constantly at odds with our long-eared friend. And now that she’s shedding, she’s just added dander to injury. We frequently have the following conversation:

RP: “That’s it. I’m done with this rabbit!”

KP: “What happened now?”

RP: “She ran away from me. I was just trying to pet her. She’s just a bad rabbit.”

KP: “No, she’s a bad dog. She’s a perfectly normal rabbit.”

RP: “We’re done.”

#3

I am ashamed to say that on top of working a full-time job, working out, and keeping up my—ahem—household, I have also managed in the past six weeks to read 3,000 pages of (wait for it) fantasy fiction. I’m completely obsessed with Game of Thrones, which, much to RP’s dismay makes me act strangely here and there: like waking from nightmares wherein I am being attacked by the white walkers, or referring to him as “blood of my blood” and “my sun and stars.” Not to mention that I get bummed out whenever a character dies, which happens to be every chapter or so. Thanks George RR Martin, you’ve taught me that it is true folly to care for anyone.

#4

As I’ve entered the home stretch to my 30^th birthday, RP is getting slightly worried about my biological clock. This Sunday we had the following conversation:

KP: “What boy names do you like?”

RP: “Oh no.”

KP: “What? We’re just talking about kids.”

RP: “I know. But it’s Sunday. Usually after we teach primary you stop wanting children for at least a few days. This is more serious than I thought.”

#5

After being labeled as loco by most of our family, RP and I are still planning on spending Christmas at Everest basecamp. One small hiccup was me learning about the flight we have to take to and from Lukla, Nepal (for some fun, go ahead and google “Lukla airport"). Oh, and the fact that apparently no one showers for 14 days while on the trek. And I thought Alaska tested our marital vows…

War and Peace and Independence

There’s a couple things you may not know about RP and me: one is that we’re creatures of habit. The other is that we like to fight on the 4^th of July. I tell you the former only to impress you with the fact that we got through this Independence Day still friends (with benefits).

I don’t know what it is about celebrating freedom, but it seems to spur RP and I into fightin moods. Take for instance the year we met; two months into our “casual dating” relationship, he casually invited me to spend the 4^th with him. I casually agreed, and then casually stood him up for a party in Newport. Thus ensued not only our first fight, but our first 4^th of July fight.

Independence argument #2 came when we were again separated for our Nation’s birthday and I was hopped up on painkillers. That should be enough said. Then last year, as our first married Independence Day, we had a little tiff over a text he had sent to a friend wherein he referred to his wife as “cranky.”

That is why I’m pleased to report that RP and I have officially broken our Independence Day fighting tradition.

Not to say I didn’t try to keep it alive.

For instance, I came home with yet another “necessary” kitchen gadget that I found wondrous and all but mystified RP. Am I really expected to dry my salad with paper towels?

Then I poured too much ice cream into the machine, thus requiring RP to stand by and eat the (totally delicious) soft serve as it expanded and threatened to overflow.

Not to mention that San Clemente itself tried to grate on our nerves. Not only did the inclement weather keep us from our scheduled day of basking on the beach, but the crowds and cars and lack of parking spaces made it so we couldn’t leave either.

But we made amends where we could. For instance, I faced my fear of pastry-making and baked this strawberry pie from scratch – much to RP’s delight.

He pitched in as well, by wearing his short-shorts for my viewing pleasure and demonstrating his grill-master abilities.

Oh, and bringing me 4^th of July flowers. Sadie also received a carnation. But she ate hers and I preferred to look at mine.

We ended the day with fireworks on the beach with the rest of the English-speaking (and Spanish – who am I kidding?) world. SC put up a good show, and I even stayed up past 10 on a work night.

Here’s to peace (and independence).

 (Sadly, this was the BEST photo to come out of our efforts at self-photography)