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

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

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

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

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.

Healthy shmelthy

When I was a little girl, I was notorious for cutting my own hair. One time, after my mom started hiding all the scissors around the house, I went so far as to cut my hair using her shaving razor while taking a bath. True story.

Turns out, the desire to walk around looking like your parents want you to be the nerdy kid who gets teased at school, is genetic. Over the weekend my niece, Ro, decided cutting her hair was a brilliant idea.

Almost makes you want to cry.

I wasn’t there but the story, as I understand it, goes like this:

Ro was playing kitty, crawling around on the floor and lapping up milk from a bowl. Her beautiful locks were getting in her face so my mother, whose house she was at, told her to grab an elastic from the bathroom and she would pull her hair back. Ro walked into the bathroom and saw a pair of scissors on the counter (my younger sister is a beautician and was cutting my older sisters hair just moments earlier). So Ro thought, why pull my hair back, when I can just cut it out of my way?

Ro walked out of the bathroom, after only being gone for mere seconds, sporting a side mullet. It scared my mother so bad that she started screaming, which in turn scared Ro.

To give you a frame of reference, her hair used to hang about 2" below her shoulders.

If she looks unhappy in this picture, it’s because her mother (my older sister), nearly killed her.

What else is there to do in a situation like that, but to cut the rest off?

Here she is getting the rest of her hair chopped off.

So short!

The next day, Ro wore her BEST princess dress to church so that no one would think she was a boy.

Oh the logic of a six year old. If only all of life’s problems could be solved with princess dresses.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Story Time

You know those products where you do some sort of “eye exercises” or Voo Doo trances everyday and you end up being able to read faster or control peoples minds?

Do you think they work?

This semester I am taking pretty much all communication classes and surprise, surprise, they all come with giant text books. Well, not giant as in ED’s Organic Chemistry book, but still 400-500 pages each.

And of course, each teacher wants you to read one or two chapters per week. Each chapter is roughly 30 pages long, which equates to exactly way to much freaking reading.

Don’t get me wrong, I find a lot of the content interesting (Yay! I’m actually on the right education path!), it’s just that it takes so GD long to get through it all.

Lord help me. I’m only one week into this semester…

I’ve gotta figure out a way to be more efficient. Your ideas may be are welcome. My sleep depends on it.  And frankly, that’s just not something I want to part with.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Back to School, Bag full of complaints

Saturday night, as I was getting ready for my big anniversary dinner with ED, I get a text message from my mom.

“Just FYI. Dad is @ the ER with a bad burn to the hand. He is going to be ok.”

Right. Only in my family does a text message, such as this, come as no surprise.

I text her back asking for more details. She tells me that he got a CHEMICAL burn while at work. About an hour later she sends me this picture.

I've aptly named this photo, "Mummy Hand"

Apparently, while at work and wearing “work issues” gloves, he somehow got CF (Calcium Fluoride?) on his hand. Turns out there was a small tear somewhere on the glove. Now pops has third degree CHEMICAL burns covering his hand.

He is out of work for three weeks and has to go to the burn unit daily where they are removing skin and grafting new.

Awesome.

Traditionally I yell at my dad whenever he gets hurt because, well, normally it’s his fault. This time it’s not his fault…

Guess you’re off the hook this time, Dad.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

UPDATE: They have started debriding (removing the skin) from my dads thumb today. They debrided his middle finger yesterday.We will know in 10-14 days if skin grafts will be needed.

I am posting a picture… with hesitation and a warning.

If you have a weak stomach please DO NOT scroll down. It really is nasty. Consider yourself warned.

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I hope you didn't just have lunch. Bleh!

Loved One(s), Story Time

However, for me, January has traditionally been the harder month.

You see, I really like my relationship and I don’t want to run from it. I also don’t want to screw it up. So when I felt my darling ED pulling away for unbeknown reasons (at least unbeknown to me), I fought every instinct in my body not to do the same. I wanted to play the stubborn, immature card and not call or text or be “unavailable” to hang out. I wanted to protect myself from getting hurt, even though I knew ED was not trying to do so.

The holidays are just rough. They effect all of us in different ways. I GET THAT. But sometimes I am irrational and think I am the only one allowed to have a hard time. It somehow escaped my realm of reasoning that ED could be having a hard time, and it had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Very mature, right? Go me!

When we finally had a night away from obligations and parties, we sat down and had a real heart to heart. He talked, I cried. But most importantly, we communicated our feelings instead of making assumptions or pulling away.

In short, I didn’t run.

ED and I are far from perfect, but this is relationship of ours is quite possibly the most grown-up relationship I have ever been in and tomorrow night, we are celebrating our one year anniversary.

Guess we must be doing something right.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday

If you know a Mormon, you know that Jello is a big thing in their culture. Why? I was raised by them and I still have no idea.

Last weekend I was invited to a girls only dinner party. Everyone was assigned to bring something and my assignment was dessert. Normally I’d pick up a cheesecake or some donuts at the store and call it good, but the girls hosting the party are all foodies! They LOVE to cook which is totally awesome because I get to eat their yummy cooking but also lame because then I feel like my store bought goodness is not adequatly made with love.

Truth be told, the girls really wouldn’t have cared what I brought. It’s more the competitive cooking gene those damn Mormons implanted in my brain through all of those young womens activities.

So, here it is (my mother will be so proud). Proof I cooked… a jello dessert.

This in not just any jello dessert, mind you, this is a THREE LAYER jello dessert!

Layer one:

Pretzels, butter and sugar crust.

Layer two:

Blended cream cheese, whip cream and powdered sugar.

Layer Three:

Strawberries and Jello!

All to make THIS:

"Pretzel Salad" (In the Mormon culture, Jello = Salad! Oh, and is not always served as a dessert.)

Obviously I’m no Julia Child, but my foodie friend was impressed enough to post the recipe on her foodie blog, which totally made my day.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Out and About