Originally I had planned to write a post about my crazy 4 AM “Black Friday” shopping experience complete with pictures of my friend Jenn and I all bundled up waiting in a line that wrapped around the building.

That experience didn’t end up happening.

Friday morning I received a text from Jenn at 4 AM saying that she wasn’t going to make it shopping because she was sick. I was actually VERY relieved because I didn’t sleep well plus I was sick myself.

I spent the morning working on homework and then decided that I better drive myself to the InstaCare to make sure I don’t have strep throat. While driving there I called my Dad to see if he would be home later so I could pick up my Christmas tree from his basement and would he be kind enough to carry it up to my car and are there still leftovers at the house? He let me ramble on with all my trivial questions and when he was quite sure I was done he cleared his throat and began.

“Summer I received a frantic message from your Grandmother this morning. I was at the temple so I called her back as soon as I got home, I actually just got off the phone with her when you called. There is no easy way to say this, but your Grandpa Hom died this morning.”

I swear my heart stopped beating. Instantly I started to cry as my Dad told me all of the details that he had found out. This was my Dad’s father and I by sheer chance was the first person he was telling. He hadn’t even had a chance to process things for himself, hadn’t even had a chance to tell my mother or even change out of his church clothes.

I rushed over to my parents house to see what I could do to help. My Dad hadn’t eaten so I made him some food. He was coughing up a lung so I after my Mother and Sister got home to look after the phones, I took my Dad to the InstaCare where we found out he had Bronchitis and I have a strain of Strep. While sitting in the InstaCare waiting room my Dad started to write his fathers obituary. He turned to me and said “You know it’s funny because I get to something I don’t know and my first thought is I’ll just call him up and ask. But I can’t call him up anymore.”

It breaks my heart to see my father like this. I am sad for my loss of a grandfather, but sadder for the loss of my father’s father. My grandpa was 89 years old. He died peacefully.

Please forgive me if my posts are not updated as often as I normally try to do. I will be busy and distracted. I am trying to keep it together and stay strong for my family in the midst of semester projects and finals. This next week will be a challenging one.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Emotions get the best of me

Me: “Hi Stac. So I’m at the store and my Thanksgiving assignment is to make a Green Bean Casserole.”

Staci: “Ha ha! You have to cook!”

Me: “Yeah and I am in charge of bringing the coffee too. Don’t worry, I’m bringing the real stuff. None of the decaf crap. It’s one of the 2 times a year that the family will break the word of wisdom and I plan to take full advantage. Oh, and I got the yummy creamer too! Anyway, I came strait to the store from class and I don’t have a recipe for the casserole.”

Staci: “So…um…why are you calling me?”

Me: “Because you are such an amazing cook! Ha! Kidding. You live with Mom and Dad and can get the recipe for me.”

Staci: “Oh. Do you know where the recipe box is?”

Me: “YOU LIVE THERE! How would I know where it is? I guess the other option would be for you to jump online and google the recipe then text it to me or call me back with it.”

Staci: “Yeah, I could do that. Hold on.”

Me: “Holding. I can’t believe that they don’t have the recipe on the back of the cans of green beans. I was kind of counting on that but NONE of the cans, and I checked them all, had the recipe. I mean, what the hell?”

Staci: “The nerv.”

Me: “I know! Don’t they realize that there are people like us out there? So, do you have the recipe now or what?”

Staci: “Yeah, 2 cans of green beans, cream of mushroom soup, soy sauce, milk, and fired onions crisps.”

Me: “That’s it?”

Staci: “Yep.”

Me: “Wow. I can’t believe we had to google that. That’s actually really sad.”

Staci: “Someone put a comment that they are allergic to onions so they used almond slivers instead.”

Me: “I’ll do both. It will make it seem fancier or something.”

Staci: “Cool.”

Me: “Yeah. I better grab this stuff and go because I have been staring at the green beans for like 10 minutes now and people probably think I am a dense. Thanks for helping and being the one person who cooks less than me.”

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Holidays, Random

Saturday Karina the Russian and I committed a sin. Well, not like a really bad sin (yes, I just used “like”), it was just the sin of putting up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving, which to some is completely inexcusable. I however, am pretty sure we will be forgiven after fervent repenting to the bishop and maybe a few hail Marys for good measure.

After putting up the tree and untangling strand upon strand of Christmas lights we decided to celebrate Karina’s newly festive condo by getting dressed up and going out. We ran into an old friend who invited us to a house party. We knew this friend really well so we said what the hell, hopped in his limo and away we went. We ended up at this mansion cabin house on 400 acres of land. The owner had coyotes, reindeer, 5 ponds with some 4,000 fish in them, roosters and a whole bunch of other cool stuff. Anyway, too much details. We get there and we are having a great time but as the night progresses and the number of drinks increase, limo guy gets really tipsy and decided to…um…complement me?

“Summer you look greeeat! I mean jus look at those leeegs! And you have the hottest crotch area. No I mean it Summa. Bee-ute-iful!”

CROTCH AREA??? It was such an incredibly ridiculous thing to say and it caught me so off guard that I couldn’t help but bust up laughing. Karina and I were practically rolling on the floor and the funniest part was I couldn’t even get mad because poor drunk limo friend wasn’t really trying to make a pass at me, this was his honest to god attempt at a compliment! Hmm… come to think of it, maybe it was a pass at me. Nah! I’m much more comfortable thinking of it as just a failed attempt at a compliment.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Out and About, Story Time

One of the cardinal rules of having a personal blog is to avoid writing about work at all costs. However, this was a little too funny to pass up.

Remember how my friend Sarah wrote about our Metallica concert experience in her column for In Utah? Well somebody at my office came across the article and decided to make sure everyone was aware of my stardom. You can imagine my surprise when my boss handed me the article and said “I never knew you were such a rocker.”

I know it’s a little blurry, but at the top are all of my co-workers initials. Standard policy is to cross of your initials and pass it on to the next person so that everyone gets a chance to see whatever important document is getting circulated. Also written to the right it says “Summer is totally famous.”

I’m not going to lie, I was pretty embarrassed. I guess that is the price you pay for having famous friends. Funny if you think about it, I was able to strut my butt-rocker self through a restaurant, public transportation and a concert with my head held high. But knowing that my boss and co-workers read about me wearing “hooker gear” to a metal concert was enough to make me want to hide in my office. I guess it’s because I try so hard to keep “Professional Summer” separate from “Rocker Summer”. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Think they’ll be OK if I trade in my business suits for fishnet shirts and mini skirts?

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Concert whore

For my Humanities class I read a short story called “Telephone Conversation” by Wole Soyinka. I really loved his use of sarcasm and the way he stood up for himself. So, I thought I would share it with you!

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned,
“I hate a wasted journey–I am African.”
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
“HOW DARK?” . . . I had not misheard . . .
“ARE YOU LIGHT OR VERY DARK?” Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis–
“ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came.
“You mean–like plain or milk chocolate?”
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. “West African sepia”–and as afterthought,
“Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT’S THAT?” conceding
“DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.”
“Like brunette.”
“THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?”
“Not altogether. Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused–
Foolishly, madam–by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black–One moment, madam!”–sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears–”Madam,” I pleaded, “wouldn’t you rather
See for yourself?”

After every reading we have to do an artistic interpretation. I decided to try my hand at painting again. It’s no Chocolate Buddha, but that’s probably a good thing.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Back to School

Me: “Hi my name is Summer and I am a cat lady”

Everyone: “Hi Summer”

I have come to terms that I am a 28 year old cat lady. Most nights, it’s just me and Aurora, 2 peas in a pod… only problem is my other pea is a bitch. Yes, I just called my cat a bitch. I love her dearly, I do! But she is so demanding and grumpy that I don’t know what to do. She hates everybody else but me, which is endearing in a lot of ways but mostly it’s exhausting. I mean I can’t pay attention to her at all times! Blast it all! Cats’ are supposed to be the low maintenance version of a kid! Work with me kitty! Work with me!!!

Loved One(s), Random

My sister Staci decided that for her birthday she wanted to get a group together to go to The Cheesecake Factory. She asked me if I would be willing to go an hour early to get our names on the list, because I am a good sister and it was her birthday I agreed, but dragged Karina the Russian with me.
When we got there they told us it would be a 2 HOUR WAIT!!! Now, I’m not going to say their food is not good – it is. But come on! No food is worth waiting 2 hours just to be seated. Unfortunately, this was not my call to make. At least the restaurant is located right in front of the mall (strategic placement much?) so Karina and I just wandered around the mall. I was on a mission to find a new winter hat. I found one that I am pretty much in love with and am going back to buy after my next paycheck.

The restaurant wait ended up only being 1 hr and 45 minutes. ONLY! Regardless, we had a lot of fun and Staci loved the singing card that Karina and I gave her. “Special, special, yes you are!” I’m pretty sure it was her favorite present of the night. Our server was excellent and didn’t even hit on any of us, so that was a bonus too.

Happy Birtday (one day late) Little Sister! I love you more than you will ever know!

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Loved One(s), Out and About

A few weeks ago I wrote about going to the Metallic concert with my friend Sarah for her birthday. Sarah writes a weekly column called That’s What She Said for the independent paper IN Utah This Week. The issue that hit stands last Thursday (and is still out) featured her take on the concert experience as well as a picture of us. This is my first experience of having my picture in the paper for non-illegal activities. I’m pretty sure mug shots don’t count though, but even if they do, I like my smile in this picture MUCH better. Click here to check it out.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Concert whore

Last night Karina the Russian and I decided to hit the town. We got all dolled up together and she offered to drive, which was perfect because my car is not registered due to my bad habit of buying clothes & groceries instead of a new windshield which it needs to pass inspection. So I decided I didn’t need to bring ALL of my keys, just my house key. Since I was wearing jeans I just stuck the lone key in my pocket and off we went.

As anyone who reads this blog is probably aware, good times always happen when the two of us are together. We get to the club, walk in front of the VIP line, don’t pay a cover, say “hi” to all the peps (it’s Salt Lake, you are bound to run into people you know wherever you go) and start having a good time.

Somehow, during the “have a good time” part of the night, my key managed to travel somewhere outside of my pocket (shocker!). I ended up spending the night at Karina’s and it wasn’t until we were sitting at breakfast that it dawned on me to check if I still had my key, which of course I didn’t. I called my sis to see if she still had my spare key, and she didn’t. I start freaking out until Karina asked if I left my porch door unlocked. I say “yes, but it is on the second story and there are bushes all around it.”

Did that stop my beautiful, resourceful, cat-like, Russian friend? Did it detour her from thinking she could do it, even for a minute?

Of course not.

Lessons learned today would include the following:
1. Make sure someone reliable always has a spare key to my place.
2. When going out find a more reliable place to put house key (like a purse perhaps?).
3. Lock balcony doors from here on out at all times.
4. I would be completely lost without Karina, never loose her as a best friend.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

K to the R stories, Out and About

“I was worried you might never want to talk to me again” April said, trying to sound cool and collected. There was a slight tinge of nervousness in her voice that alerted him to just how hard their month of not speaking had been for her.

“Well the thing is” Sven started, using a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing, the way he drew out the first word while he collected his thoughts before continuing. This time however, it struck fear in her heart, fear of what would come next, fear that he would tell her that he did contemplate never speaking to her again. She held her breath knowing that the next thing he spoke meant more to her than she originally thought was possible.

He paused, then very deliberate and slowly he began again.

“The thing is, that is not going to happen.”

Sven heard Aprils breath catch and knew instantly how much the sentiment must have meant to her. Living an ocean away from someone teaches you to listen carefully, there can be meaning in every sound you hear.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that” April managed to squeak out while trying to fight back tears. She prayed that somehow, on some level, he would know just how sorry she was.

Sven, recognizing the direction the conversation was headed and not being one to linger in uncomfortable emotional situations, quickly turned his tone into a more playful one.

“Come on, you’re not going to get rid of me that easy.”

It worked, he heard his distant love laugh. Somehow hearing the music in her laugh and feeling her smile gaping the distance between them gave both of them the sense that even though they had reached no resolution, as there was never one to be reached, everything would be alright. Time had only made the cautious hearts grow fonder, not apart.

Blogfully yours,
Summer

Story Time