April Birthdays Bring Hometown Visits

Five months shy of my 30th, I have a bone to pick with birthdays in general. That said, I'm more than happy to help other people celebrate their increase in years. And this weekend, I did just that -- in ye old Washington State.

Since this little one was celebrating her very own 29th, I flew up to surprise her. And surprised she was, much as she tried to deny it.

 This one didn't seem to care one way or another.

To put the cherry on top the proverbial (birthday) cake, I got to spend some time with these fine fellas. One of them was celebrating his own birthday (the one who also appears to be threatening the photographer with deadly assault).  

Eating inordinant amounts of food.

And consoling children due to the heartaches of this life (putting away the Wii)

Apparently it worked.

And since I'm a party-pooper by nature, mom's homemade birthday cake was a health-fest, made from black beans, xylitol, and all my daughterly affection (which is low-cal as well).

As it turns out, the old Benton-Franklin is pretty nice this time of year

So I even stopped by my old neighborhood.

Mostly to avoid mom's homemade orange cake

Happy birthday, Mom and Chase!

Coming up next: Ricardo himself turns the old (and I stress old) Three-Five. Stay tuned. 



Hollywood? WE Would.

After boring you with my intolerance for pain and my reckless display of self-pity over my last few posts, I'm ready to move on to subjects not pertaining to my spinal column.

Do you hear that, L4/L5? I forgive you. Just don't let it happen again (I BEG of you).

So, last weekend, RP and I decided to commemorate the fact that I could once again do something besides watch MadMen and lay in bed (not to say that activity isn't still one of my most prized) -- and spent the day up north.

We Prices tend to flock southward when we want an Orange County break, and we felt bad about our long-time neglect of LA. And that's what drove us to a morning hike in Hollywood (that along with a rare smog-free day in LA and a secret desire to run into reality TV stars).

One thing they never told me on 'The Hills' was that those particular hills offer quite a spectacular view:

And after wandering the trails aimlessly for a good 90 minutes, we actually made it to the Hollywood sign. We're very good at choosing the path less traveled by when confronted with two roads diverged, much to our detriment.

I'd like a word with Robert Frost.

Not to worry; my back held up like a champ -- as did this fine fellow:

And while we were in the area, we paid our respects to the Griffith Obsevatory, both to take in the views and to commemorate my young dreams of becoming an astrophysicist (sorry I gave up on that one, RP).

Luckily I was able to make my apologies to Albert in person.

LA, you're not so bad. We'll see you again soon.

Springing Forward (a/k/a BACK in action)

Forgive me, reader, for I have sinned.

I’ve done nothing but sleep and watch three seasons of Mad Men in the past 10 days.

Give or take.

And that is reason #2 that surgery is awesome.

Reason #1, of course, is the fact that for the first time in 5 weeks, I cannot feel my sciatic nerve, thus enabling me to do #2 without moaning and involuntarily sobbing (except when Don Draper has another self-defining realization).

Last Monday, I had a microdiscectomy/partial laminotomy/epidural steroid injection. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what they did while I was under, but whatever it was, it was sent from on high. And it meant that finally I scored one against the as-yet undefeated L4-L5 disc.

Sadly, I’m not allowed to bend, lift, or twist my body for 4 weeks, which makes daily activities like cleaning and doing laundry out of the question.

Bummer, I know.

RP has been a wonderful nurse/servant since. He’s grown accustomed to me pointing at things below waist-level and fetching them for me, and on the day of surgery, he even stayed at home to feed me saltines and make sure I had bedside adult supervision. In this case, it was an adult rabbit.
Reason #3 and 4 that surgery is awesome came later that day, with a couple beautiful displays from my two favorite sets of parents.

By Easter I was doing a-ok, which allowed me to whip up a few little treats:

All of which were tossed in the trash by ingrate four-year-olds who hadn’t the palate for coconut.

It wouldn’t be Easter without a special shout-out to this Easter bunny, who apparently decided that this holiday was for relaxing:

What she’s trying to say is happy Easter.

It's a .... PAIN!

No, I’m not pregnant, but YES, I’m still going to show you photos of the insides of my body (lucky you).

Remember last week when I PUBLICLY whiiinnned about being in mucho pain?

Well, turns out it wasn’t to win sympathy for my steadily weakening March Madness bracket (Baylor is right up there with “vertebrae” on my S%*& LIST).

That’s right, after four weeks of PAIN and agony at the Price household (it was hard for me, too), it turns out I’m the proud owner of a massively herniated L4-L5 disc.

Isn’t she a beauty?

Aside from plaguing my life for the last month, this little darling has also robbed me of my workout routine, drained my wallet, and depleted both my ability to sleep and to sit on anything softer than a 2x4.

She’s very much like a newborn (besides the sitting on soft surfaces thing).

Don’t cry for me, dear readers, for she is not long for this life (or at least not the part of her that’s decided to squat indefinitely on my sciatic nerve). Come Monday morning, she’ll meet her end, thanks to a skilled surgeon and the $4,000 I’m currently miserable enough to pay.

So long, L4-L5.

I never liked you anyway.

Guess Who's 'Back?'

As referenced in my prior post, our “Price: Take 2” frivolities of anniversary weekend (and every weekend since) have been strongly tainted by one element – my vertebrae.

Suffice it to say that my low back has been a thorn in my side and put me on my last nerve – that nerve of course, being the sciatic (my new and ever-taunting arch nemesis).

And sadly, that means that RP is likely on his last nerve (his non-pinched, non-inflamed nerve, I might add). Poor RP not only wakes up every morning at about 6 am to me trying to get out bed and make it to the shower (which sounds a lot like “owie owie owie owie owie, grunt grunt grunt”) and more than not falls asleep to the sound of me involuntarily moaning or quietly sobbing.

My life is very much like a Victorian novel.

Still, my inability to sit/lay down and my extra time NOT spent working out has given me loads of free time. Sadly I’m generally on narcotic painkillers and muscle relaxants so I couldn’t begin to tell you what I do in those hours. With the way I’m currently walking I should be spending time shopping for orthopedic footwear, entertaining myself with trips to CVS, and showing up to Applebee’s for dinner at 4 pm.

RP’s not left out of this fun either. He gets first-hand evidence on a daily basis that I can no longer bend over to shave my legs, and often, when at home at night, I forgo pants in general to avoid the extra step of putting them on after changing out of my work clothes. Then there’s the emotional ups and downs of my newly forming drug regimen.

This week I get to test my claustrophobia with a field trip into an MRI machine, but until then, I can’t help but wonder who’s got the voodoo doll with needles stuck in the back and my name on it?

Everyone say a prayer for RP. And me, if you have extra time.

PS – In honor of the month, I’d like to publicly complain about this one; who has definitely become our very own MARCH HARE. Little does young Sadie Doe know that her peeing-on-the-couch escapades are about to change her household status from “beloved pet” to “food supply.”

So add one more prayer for the long-eared monster.

And the soft-hearted human who may leave me for her.

Priceless Price-ism: Marriage Edition

RP and I know better than anyone; March is the perfect time to get married (or rather, the perfect compromise between your envisioned June wedding and his 4-week engagement time-table). That's why March brought us down to San Diego this weekend for a lovely nuptial Saturday, celebrating the beautiful Erika Pearson.

After the ceremony, RP wiped his hands on his pants and said:

RP: I always get anxiety at weddings.
KP: Anxiety? You're nervous right now?
RP: Yeah. Feel my palms.
KP: You're so weird. Why?
RP: I don't know.. listening to all those vows and all that responsibility.
KP: How in the world did you make it through ours?
RP: I don't know.. I guess I just kind of pretended it wasn't happening.

Ah, true love.

We managed to have a nice time anyway (at least in front of other wedding attendees). Afterward I also found it helpful to pretend....

Like I was single.

Prices: Officially in their Second Season

They say beware the ides of March, but as for the fifth? Well, there’s nothing to do but celebrate! After all, last March 5, RP and I tied the knot, sealed the deal, made our beds, cooked our goose… you get the idea.

Behold, March 5, 2011:

Having never celebrated an anniversary before, RP and I weren’t quite sure what to do. But we knew we needed food and presents – which is more or less an ideal day for me any way you spin it. Sadly, RP had an invalid wife on his hands (one that wasn’t allowed to work out and thus could turn into a raving mad woman with any slight change of the wind), so we kept anniversary weekend pretty low-key (thanks, sciatica).

Activities included breakfast at Hash House in San Diego – which might be our all-time fav restaurant due not entirely to the fact that their single portions could double as an entire year’s food supply for Demi Moore.

Also, their French toast freaking rocks.

While exhausting his crippled wife with a walk around Hillcrest, we got a chance to make a few memorable visits – like the scene of our first date (May 13, 2009)—at Arrivederci’s (I now know he was really trying to impress me back then – he ordered dessert).

And, just to be fancy, we tried on some chic headgear.

Quite aristocratic, don’t you think?

We kept the classy going by joining 20-30 senior citizens for an early matinee showing of The Artist.

Loved it (silently).

That’s when RP showed me just how to treat a girl right by surprising me with a stay at the Gaslamp hotel Omni: A comfy bed, perfect pillows, plush bathrobes, soothing hot tub, and a whole slew of San Diego gold-diggers/douchebags lining the rooftop pool.

Ah, perfection.

After a lazy poolside nap and hot tub dip, RP and I headed out on the town. First stop: kebabs. Second stop: back to the movies. We saw all five Oscar-nominated short films, along with two highly bizarre animated shorts (which were enough to prevent us from seeing the remaining three). I loved the live action shorts, which I’d label as true sleeper hits.

And luckily, the crowds were minimal.

After the show, we prowled the greater downtown area for a donut for RP (this is not the first (or second or twentieth) time we’ve hunted a metropolitan area for a late-night donut shop. Luckily, we struck gold at Crematose, where RP got a ricotta-stuffed doughnut with a much fancier Sicilian name. After a lovely night’s rest, we headed back home, to the responsibility of a hungry rabbit and nine four-year-old primary girls.

You could say the honeymoon is over.

*As a footnote, we did manage to celebrate our anniversary on the appropriate day, with a late-evening post-work dinner at South of Nick’s.

Thanks for the year, RP.