The past two Valentines days have come early for me. ED and I celebrate Valentines the weekend before because I go hiking the weekend of… without him.

I think my friend Sarah put it best when ED was pretending to pout about me being gone over Valentines Day. Sarah simply stated, “Summer’s  had hiking a lot longer than she’s had you. Sorry.”  (I freaking love that girl)

Not that he minds, quite the opposite really. We are able to get reservations and avoid the love bird crowds. What’s not to love?

This year we had a lovely dinner at Martine’s and went to a show called “Avenue Q”. For those of you not familiar with Avenue Q, it is pretty much Sesame Street for adults.

It’s filled with irreverent humor, underlying social issues and songs such as, “The Internet is for porn,” “Everyone’s a little bit racist,” and “If you were gay.”

To say it was hilarious is an understatement. Would I recommend it to any of my friends? ABSOLUTELY!

Would I recommend it to any of my Mormon relatives? Let’s just say during the scene where the puppets were having sex on stage while Gary Coleman sang “you can be as loud as the hell you want when you’re making love,” the audience lost a few members. So, no, I would not recommend it to anyone easily offended.

After the show was over, I was remarking to ED how I thought the crowd at the theater was easily 20 years older than the crowd at the concert I went to last weekend. Can you believe he had the audacity to point out to me – ON OUR VALENTINES DAY DATE – that I am actually closer in age to the average theater goer than I was to the “alcohol free” concert crowd!

THE NERVE!

That is, until I realized he was right.

Damn. I hate when he is right.

Here’s wishing that all of your Valentines dates — whatever you do and whoever you spend it with — are filled with many laughs and someone who makes you feel, ahem,  younger.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer ED is not Emotionally Disturbed, Out and About

This week on Post Secret there was two conflicting messages that spoke to me. I quickly jotted them down to come back to when I had more time to digest exactly what they spoke to me.

The first said:

“I have found the love that makes me forget.”

Followed by:

“I’m searching for the love that will make it OK for me to remember.”

Forgetting and remembering, such an interesting conundrum.

***
Over the past two years, I have shared a lot of personal information about myself, but some experiences are not meant to be shared on blogs. Some experiences are only meant to be shared in the comfort of a paid professionals’ office, while curled up on their couch with a blanket.

These particular experiences take time to accept that they really did happen to you, it wasn’t just a bad dream, and it will never be undone.

After certain experiences you let life stop. You spend a lot of time just breathing in, and breathing out. You take baby steps forward until one day you find someone patient and warm who will never really know, but just accepts that something happened, and you are a little more fragile because of it. They don’t ask. They just love you anyway.

I don’t want a love who makes me forget. My trials have helped make me the strong woman I am today.

I don’t want a love to grant me permission to remember. Only I can make it OK for me to remember, on my own terms, should I ever find a reason.

Everyone’s experiences are different, and everyone copes differently. I do not pretend to know the circumstances of the anonymous submitters on Post Secret. I just know that sometimes you come across something unexpected that takes you back to when you let life stop, and for once, it was not as painful to go back to.

One deep breath and life continued on. I have such a grateful heart for the growth I have gained from my experiences and for finding a love who doesn’t fully know, but never asks.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday

For most of my adult life I’ve started my mornings off with a cup of coffee, or as my friend John puts it,  “the nectar of the Gods, the I’m so hung over thank all that is holy, the one last legal drugs left that doesn’t hold a mandatory 25 year sentence.”

It’s become a part of my routine.

It jump starts my day.

So believe me when I say, it pains me GREATLY to part with it!

As I’ve mentioned, I have stared a nutrition plan to help with my Endometriosis. Honestly I feel healthier in all aspects except my pain level, which is currently through the roof. I flat out don’t get it. Frankly, it has been incredibly frustrating to say the least.

There are two items on the “to avoid” list that up until Sunday (night) I have not been willing to part with: coffee and alcohol. I’ve been cutting back, but I haven’t completely nixed them from my diet. But after spending way too much time popping Ibuprofen every 4-6 hours and running up the electrical bill from my heating pad (which is on most of the time I am home); I’ve decided it’s time to cut my coffee addiction cord…*sigh*… and remove the majority of alcoholic beverages from my life as well.

My hope is this is not forever. My hope is this is a temporary freeze… just until I can get my pain level back under control again.

People I am GIVING UP COFFEE.

I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to this. Anyone want my ovaries? I’ve about had it with them.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Bag full of complaints, Healthy shmelthy

In my ideal world, I would get to spend two to three days per week in the mountains doing various activities which would be dependent on the season i.e. hiking, snowshoeing, skiing.

My ideal world would kick ass.

My “real” world however, doesn’t afford me the free time to get up into the mountains as much as I would like.

I’ve often called the mountains my “sanity” or “peace of mind.” Being one with nature makes me happy, not to mention it rejuvenates and ground me.

I swear, I could write sonnets about the damn mountains.

On Sunday, despite my better scholastic judgment (homework is overrated, right?), I worshiping the snow gods and thoroughly enjoying the fresh powder they threw down along with the company of one of my best friends, Heidi.

Heidi and I on the ski lift.

 

We ran into some friends at the lodge who we met for a brew after shredding the mountain. Ha! Who am I kidding?  Heidi and I are solid BLUE skiers. We gracefully carve our way down the mountain. You can hardly call our style of skiing “shredding!”

While having a beer, our friends they told us an absolutely appauling story. They said they sat next to two guys from San Franciso on the lift who said they had been in Park City for three days to ski and today was their last day. They continued on to say how they had such beautiful weather for the past three days and now, on thier last day, they get this shitty weather.

WHAT? Um… excuse me?

Only people from San Francisco* would consider a perfect powder ski day – which wasn’t very cold either – “shitty weather.”

Sheesh. 

Here’s hoping their flight back was delayed by our shitty weather.

Also, that the sanity I got while in the mountains keeps me grounded through the rest of the week.

Oh and if it’s not too much trouble, that the snow gods put in a good word with the homework gods for me!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*no offense if you are from San Francisco. But a little respect for the snow, man. This is Utah after all.

Summer Out and About

For Christmas, my darling friend Karina the Russian bought concert tickets to see the band Brand New for my sister Staci, me and of course for herself. We had been counting down the days until the show and when the day finally rolled around WE WERE STOKED!

Staci and I have been listening to this little known alternative rock band for around six years. Karina is a bit more of a recent convert, but a fan nonetheless.

Before the show we met up for sushi and saki.

Karina and Staci

Staci and me (guess who has to be posing in every picture? LOL)

We really didn’t pay much attention to where the concert was being held until a few days before the show when we looked at our tickets and it said The Salt Palace Convention Center.  Which we thought was odd to have a smaller band held at a convention center, but whatever, WE WERE STILL STOKED!

After paying $7 for parking we wandered through the huge building following people wearing skinny jeans and flannel to the concert hall.

SIDENOTE: What is up with flannel coming back into style? Ugh!

When we finally got to the large concrete room where the concert was going to be. Naturally, we went straight up to the concession stand to purchase beer. Only… this was an all age show so there was no beer being served.

Not wanting to believe this to be true, we searched the room looking for people holding beer cups – there were none to be seen. What was to be seen, was thousands of  sober, angsty teenagers.

We walked around the perimeter, just to make sure we were not missing something and to further survey the crowd, but sadly, our biggest fear was realized, we were the “old people”  at a concert!

After the concert Karina apologized for it not being all we had hoped it would be. I told her “don’t you dare apologize!” Because even though we were sober and the oldest people there, we still had a great time and got to spend some much needed time together – something we don’t get to do nearly enough anymore.

Oh, and added bonus? We will all actually remember this concert AND none of us got beer spilled in our hair.

I’ll call that a win any day.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Concert whore, Out and About

Last weekend I went to a piano bar to celebrate a friend’s birthday/college graduation. While there I couldn’t help but laugh as I remembered the last time I took Karina the Russian to a piano bar.

For those of you who are not familiar with piano bars in general, let me paint the scene for you. There are two pianos on a slightly elevated stage with two piano players. Patrons of the bar request songs for the piano players to perform. With each song request you attach a little bit of cash. The higher the dollar amount the more priority your request gets. The piano players play any song – so long as they know it.

In my experience, piano bar crowds are typically the loudest and the most intoxicated.  There is a unique culture to piano bars, a drunken one, but one nonetheless. Shots are passed around and bar tabs are never small. Everyone sings along at the top of their lungs. There are even a certain chants that take place which the artists, I’m sure, never intended to be inserted. Such as Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline Bum Bum Buuuum! Or Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. Salt! Salt! Where’s the F**king Salt!

Piano bars are a rowdy good time.

So now imagine you have lived in the United States for less than ten years and your friends drag you to a bar that primarily plays songs from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s and everyone but you is smashed and singing along to every song. Then your friends have the drunken audacity to say things like, “I can’t believe you don’t know this song! How can you NOT know this song?”

Poor Karina, at first she was a good sport, until someone (ahem) pushed it too far and said to her, “Come on now, you HAVE to know this song! It’s freaking PIANO MAN by Billy Joel!”

She looked at me and said, “Next time I am going to take you to a bar in Russia and ask you why YOU don’t know all of the songs that everyone is singing along to!”

Point taken.

We’ve never gone to another piano bar together since.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer K to the R stories, Story Time

I hurt.

I hate when I hurt.

It sends me into all sorts of upsetness.

Back in December I started researching a new nutrition plan to help with my Endometriosis. I began working it into my everyday life, little by little, in the hopes that a holistic approach to my condition would be the answer. Right now I’m buying organic everything, which, holy shit is expensive! I’ve cut out all the “bad” foods (well most of them anyway) and I am making an honest go at it.

I mean, last week I turned down a FREE asiago cheese bagel for chrissake!

Truth be told, I’ve felt really good for the most part. But right now, I feel like there are multiple knives shoved in my lower abdomen and each knife is getting twisted at a regular interval just so I don’t forget they are there. I don’t even know if that makes sense. I JUST EFFING HURT!

Why do I hurt? I mean, outside of the obvious endometriosis thing.

I can’t say entirely for sure, but I think it has to due with the fact I went to see the Utah JAZZ play.

You heard me.

The tickets were amazing! We were in a suite catered with yummy food which was entirely NOT on my nutrition plan. I ate it anyway.  I washed it down with two glasses of “non-approved” wine too.

Pain woke me up the next morning.

Is that really it? Is my body–after less than a month of mostly clean eating–so upset that I dared eat a meatball and some cheesy artichoke dip, that it would cause me this much pain? Really?

I know I am giving myself a bit of a pity party, but that? That is pure BULLSHIT!

I’m sorry, but as I sit here, waiting for the pain pills to kick in and pounding out my frustrations on the key board, I can’t help but feel the way I do. Anyone who has read this blog will know I try to stay positive for the most part, but right now I am tired. I am flat out tired of feeling this way. And what’s worse is I know I am exacerbating my symptoms by getting upset about them. Stress is another trigger. So is working out, which I totally did.

I hate this. I feel like I just can’t win.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Emotions get the best of me, Healthy shmelthy, Just me, NOT light and fluffy

Over the weekend, along with doing things like drinking wine with the girls, getting my butt kicked in a country-style training session, going to a free Utah JAZZ game (8th row, baby!), being tortured at a piano bar, going up on the perfect powder ski day only to be turned away because the “resort was full” AND doing homework; I dog sat.

It’s like babysitting, only without any poppy diapers. You simply play with them as much as possible, feed them the correct amount and get puppy snuggles all night long.

Dogs have a great way of making people happy.

These two girls put a smile on my face after returning home slightly scarred from more than “off-key” drunks singing Journey, Ice Cube and Garth Brooks at a piano bar.

Now THAT’S saying something!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Out and About, Random

***“TMI Friday” (Too Much Information Friday) is a weekly feature on Blogfully Yours where I hover the line of “over-sharing”. It’s like therapy for me, without the expense.***

Jealousy…

I’m going to start by saying I hate that I am even writing this. I hate that I am even feeling this messed up feeling in the first place. Like, who am I? I have never been the jealous type. Ever.

Seriously.

But for some crazy ass reason–which mind you , I KNOW is not logical, rational, or based on any sort of realistic anything–I. Get. Jealous!

Like, “cut-a-bitch” jealous.

Of course I don’t “cut-a-bitch”. Because I am not a crazy person. Plus I don’t carry knives on me. But when I am working out at the gym where ED trains, and he has his hands guiding some young flirty girls form? I have to start counting backwards from 10… sometimes 20.

I know. I know!

He is a personal trainer… it is his job… he loves me and would never do anything to hurt me. I KNOW!

But does it make me not see red? Does it make me not feel the way I feel?

No.

What it does do,  is help me to keep my cool and let it go. I fully recognize that it is MY issue. It’s not ED’s fault. It’s not his client(s) fault. This one is all on me. Working out at the same gym where ED trains people is a new thing. I think I just need a little time to get used to it is all.

The last thing I want to do is drive away ED’s clients because they are uncomfortable with the crazy chick in the corner giving them the death-stare.

At least, I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I want…

*sigh*

Jealousy? She’s a major bitch.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Dating debating, Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday, Uncategorized

I’m discovering, very rapidly, that if you have a strict nutrition plan you are try to stick to, you can NOT rely on your “approved” food to be readily available. Oh, no, no, no! You must plan ahead!

Following the advise of my ridiculously fit boyfriend–who happens to double tripple as my nutrition coach, personal trainer and biggest supporter–I made a ginormous healthy gouloshey type meal composed of pretty much all of the food I have left in my kitchen.

- One maranated baked chicken breast (I don’t remember what I maranated it in), diced up.

- One package of frozen summer vegitables.

- One box of “All Natural Brown and Wild Rice”.

Simply cook all above ingredients separately, then throw them all together, and VOILA! You’ve got three meals (two if you have a larger appetite) just waiting to be heated up!

Umm.... healthy crap.

I know the picture doesn’t do it justice, but I swear to you it really is good.

Now the hard part… remembering to take it with me when I leave the house!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – do you pre-prepare any healthy meals? If so, LET ME KNOW! I’m in need of some ideas.

Summer Healthy shmelthy