There are boxes in the office.

Our dirty clothes are in the same hamper.

He’s finally getting a DVR.

There is healthy food in the fridge; not just condiments and beer.

My decorations are blending with his decorations (plants count as decoration, right?).

He now has a kitchen table. His friends are about to be blown away.

I have a key. He no longer has to buzz me through the front door.

The non-rule breaker helped me sneak in my cat to his “no pets allowed” residence.

He cooks for me.

He lets me study.

He kisses me good morning and good night.

He is possibly the greatest roommate ever.

Even though I am going through massive amounts of stress and challenges in my life right now, it feels amazing to know I have one piece of stability in my life.

My boyfriend, my Cute.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Having a large group of friends together.

Want to know my second favorite thing about throwing a house warming party?

Finding unexpected “gifts” the morning after that leave you slightly baffled and definitely amused.

Gift #1: Squash

I vaguely remember being given this somewhat phallic looking squash as a gift. The surprise came when I woke the next morning with it in bed with me. Besides being slightly cold, it really wasn't a bad cuddler.

Gift #2: Tagged Pumpkins

Speaking of phallic looking squash, my two decorative pumpkins were assaulted by sharpies which drew penises, boobs, and the song lyrics "damn girl, how'd you get all a that in them jeans." I suppose I should move them off my porch, but leaving them there is much more fun.

Gift #3: Hand drawn artwork

A bit of a not so hard to figure out inside-joke, made into a piece of artwork that will always make me smile. Well, until the day that "Aurorica" dies.

Gift #4: WINE!

Being a gal who never seems to be able to keep more than two bottles of wine on hand, this image warmed my alcoholic heart.

Four seems like an random number to stop on…who knows, in the next day or two I may just find number five. Until then, you can enjoy the rest of the pictures from the party by going over HERE.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – am I the only one who finds random gifts the day after a party? Does this happen to you too?

Broken foot.

Check!

Sprained ankle.

Check!

Ruptured ligament that needs to be surgically repaired.

Double check!

What can I say? When I decide to injure myself, I don’t half-ass it.

But for me, being injured is not enough. Oh, no, no, no. Not only can I not put any weight on my left leg and therefore need crutches to stand… I decided to go ahead and move too.

This means I cannot pack myself.

Which means my family and friends have to pack and move everything for me.

EASIEST MOVE EVER!

Actually I totally wish I felt that way. Instead I feel like a total schmuck sitting on the bed with my leg elevated, directing people where to pack my underwear and toaster oven.

That’s a lie too. I don’t own a toaster oven.

My cat, on the other hand, has no problem relaxing while everyone else packs.

You can’t tell from this picture, but she is totally freaking out. She doesn’t like people in her house and she doesn’t like the fact that my foot is broken. Every time I sit down she lays on my lap in a protective manner and hisses at anyone who comes close.

She is super adorable like that.

That’s how I spent my weekend, watching other people pack my stuff. I must say, I chose the right people for the job too. They got all my shit – and I have more than any one woman should possess - boxed up in a day and a half.

I’m starting to think breaking a bone before I move might not be such a bad ideal…

My surgery is scheduled for Thursday this week. Since my current place is completely boxed up and I can’t officially move into my new place until next weekend, I’ve decided to crash at my parents for the week. Which is great because I really do need help to do most things outside of wiping my own ass – I’ve got that covered – but bad because even a piece of wheat toast comes slathered with half a cup of butter. I can actually feel my ass getting larger at every meal.

The doctor told me to plan on taking TWO WEEKS off from work. Under any other circumstances two weeks off would be great. Spending the majority of my PTO to stay home watching daytime TV and recover is not my idea of a good time. 

I have three days this week to get all my ducks in a row before I go under the knife.

Piece of cake. I’ll just tell all of my clients that their needs have to take some time off too.

To sum up, skinny jeans are the devil. If you wear them, you will likely be injured, become emotionally unstable, living with your parents (again) and well on your way to being checked into an institution where you can “get some rest.”

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – my sister Staci proof read this post and said it might be to my advantage to mention I am on pain pills.

Recently, I found my dream house. I’m not kidding. It is beautiful and old; rich with history, creaky floors and a Secret Garden style yard — filled with flowers and make believe and love!

Now, I’ve never been a believer in love at first sight, but I fell in love with this house.

I seemyself in it. I see all of my furniture perfectly fitting and of course matching like it was meant to be. I see coming and going for years to come, and despite it’s quirkiness, I see myself happy because it has a personality that matches mine.

Honestly, I can not get this house out of my head.

Why?

Because it’s like the lover you are passionately, crazy about who is absolutely no good for you. And even though it KILLS you, and you know you will always wonder, you let him go.

In short, this no-good-dream-house of mine doesn’t. allow. cats!

A life without the one constant I’ve had through six moves and countless breakups over the past five years, is just not one I am prepared for.

Before you call me a sap, or tell me it’s just a cat, please allow me a moment to go crazy cat lady on you.

My cat is a Bitch with a capital B. She hates EVERYONE. She hisses at small children and makes them cry. In the year and a half that ED and I dated, she never warmed up to him. I have to sedate her to take her to the freaking vet because it’s the only way they will see her!

But…for some reason she knows I am her mom and she doesn’t hate me. She loves me and cuddles me and lobbies for my attention amidst homework and other distractions.

She is the kid that only a mother could love.

When I first fell in love with the no-good dream-house it actually crossed my mind to try to find a good home for Aurora. The thought lasted all of 10 seconds before it had me tears because no one would want her. No one would ever love her like me because she wouldn’t let them get close enough to even touch her! She is my loyal bitchy kitty and I’d freaking die without her!

So long beautiful, charming, magical, old house! Parting is sweet sorrow, but if you can’t accept me as I am, then obviously we are no good for each other.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*This post was originally written a few weeks back and slightly modified due to recent occurrences. I have since found a place that I am ecstatic about. Not only is it adorable, but it accepts me and all of my baggage.

Meow

I guess I have a bit of a country soul. Plus I am more equipped to be a ranch hand than to help out in the kitchen. Granted I am a ranch hand who wears designer boots, Coach sunglasses and keeps her iPhone next to her at all times. But still. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.  In fact, I even earned the title of a “work horse” by ED’s father.

Trust me, that is a major compliment!

I did my best to capture a little bit of the country charm to share with you. All photos were taken with my iPhone.

More pictures, one’s with faces and whatnot, can be found on my Flickr page.

Blogfully yours (and yeehaw too),

Summer

The girl living here before me used it for food storage, an extra pantry of sorts, which totally makes no sense to me. I mean, isn’t that what a fridge and and cupboards are for? Who has more food in their house than that?

Obviously not me.

The shoe closet was actually Karina the Russian’s idea. I tell you, that woman is brilliant! However, I discovered a serious problem with my shoe closet right after I got it all set up. It was missing something and I simply couldn’t rest until I fixed it.

Blurry camera phone picture

Of course I am referring to the perfect pair of sexy black ankle boots which you can wear with slacks or a skirt.

Not to worry, I have fixed the problem. In fact, I double fixed the problem!

Soft suede and shiny leather of course.

The picture totally doesn’t do them justice, but trust me they are hot!

After buying them I called ED all excited. I am not sure why I thought he’d care, but I tried anyway.

Me: “Babe! I just bought the cutest black ankle boots! I bought two pairs though because I couldn’t decide on which ones to get and they were on sale.”

ED: “Like you don’t have enough shoes.”

Me: “I don’t have any black ankle boots.”

ED: “And I’m sure you don’t have any shoes that could work in their place.”

Me: “These shoes are very versatile honey. I don’t think you understand. I can wear these with both pants AND a skirt!”

ED: “But you never wear skirts.”

Me: “Well… should I decide to start wearing skirts I have the perfect boots. I’m prepared.”

At which point he changed the subject.

Men… I don’t think they will ever understand the importance of shoes. They just don’t get it.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I am 95 blocks away from ED, a point he brings up whenever he makes the drive to come see me.

It now takes me approximately 33 minutes to get to work in the morning and 25 minutes to get home (depending on the time of night).

The gym I frequent used to be five minutes away, now the closest location is 15.

To make it to my parents house for Sunday dinner now requires at least 45 minutes in combined drive time.

But honestly, how can I complain when my drive looks like this?

And This…

And This…

I am sure people who live in major cities will scoff at the times I listed because they are used to long ass commutes. In Salt Lake, if your commute is longer than 15 minutes people wonder about your sanity. I am asked constantly how I can handle the drive.

Truth is, I actually LOVE my commute because I get to stare at the mountains, study the changing leaves and look out across the city before dropping down into it. It’s so beautiful it makes me want to cry – BUT I DON’T because that would blur my vision and impair my driving and I am nothing if not a responsible driver.*

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*ED would like me to point out that “responsible drivers” do all of their makeup before leaving the house and therefore I am NOT a responsible driver. I told him I disagree because I am careful to only do the difficult makeup at stop lights so I am totally a responsible driver.

Whatever.

None of that matters now because I “officially” cooked for him AND I had him take pictures to document it.

Look! An apron and everything. Total domestic goddess!

OK so domestic goddess may be a bit of an overstatement for cooking breakfast. However, I did purchase all of the food, mix a pre-made waffle mix, crack eggs and touch raw meat. All to create a lovely meal for my babe.

I cooked eggs too but they didn't make it into the picture.

There should be some type of award for best girlfriend EVER, because I would totally win! I even did the dishes after cooking while ED looked up sports scores online. Yet for some odd reason ED is not nearly as impressed with me as I am.

Again, whatever.

At least I’ve got that out of the way and he can no longer say I A) don’t know how to cook or B) that I never have for him. Which is awesome because now I can go back to my philosophy that kitchens are simply where you store the wine and house the wine glasses.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I am finally moved in to my new place! It took seven cars, jam packed full of my crap to complete the job.

One of the moving cars, Karina the Russians Benz, completely filled with clothes! Why I think I have nothing to wear is beyond me!

My new place is absolutely amazing! Keep in mind I am coming from living in a one bedroom hole in the wall apartment with a 70′s themed “Golden Rod” kitchen. Trust me, I feel like I just moved into Buckingham Palace! Please allow me just a moment to describe the new heaven I am living in:

It is the basement apartment of my friend Heidi’s house. It is right up next to the Wasatch Mountains–I’m talking there is deer poop in the back yard! Speaking of back yard, my door walks out into it because I have my own entrance and my gianormous family room has three large windows that look out on it. I have a huge kitchen which I keep threatening ED that I am going to use, two bedrooms (one is my office), a large bathroom, plenty of storage (I made one storage area with shelves my shoe closet!) a shared laundry room, a garage to park in and my personal favorite, a wood burning fire place.

Finally, after living in multiple dwelling units for years, paying rent to places I did not love, I have a home. I HAVE A HOME! I am one happy chica right now!

I almost have everything unpacked and decorated. I promise to post pictures soon!

Blogfully yours,

Summer