It was hard times, y’all!

Then, as quickly as the snow globe storm rolled in, it was over. Well, not over over, but better. My mother’s mastectomy was hugely successful. She is now cancer free. Cute and I settled into a rhythm of cohabitation that works well for us. I am still technically without a job, but the things 2012 has in store for me are nothing short of life changing.

My love for myself, my family, and my relationships has grown more than I knew was possible. I see life with a strange new set of eyes now. I don’t want to take anything or anyone for granted. Almost losing a loved one, coupled with no longer being able to afford the lifestyle you’ve grown accustom to, will do that to ya.

I suppose looking back now, that 2011 was actually a great year for personal growth. Now that it’s over, I can say I’m thrilled to be moving on to a year with a little less growing pains.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

What can I say? They happen. Ours happens once a year. This year’s happened to land on the day I got back from the Grand Canyon. I literally got home, showered, primped, and drove straight to the reunion.

Did I feel like going? No, not exactly. I hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in over a week. I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

But, I couldn’t miss it.

Seriously. Could. Not.

Why?

Family pictures.

After sitting through pictures with the entire extended family, immediate family, and a sister photo, I watched as one by one all of my cousins and siblings got their photos taken with their families.

I am the only one without a spouse or child.

This used to bother me.

To tell the truth, sometimes it still does.

But life is what it is and I love my life so when the photographer asked if there were any more pictures that needed to be taken, I walked up to her and said, “Yes…me. Just me.”

Maybe it was my new found courage from surviving the Grand Canyon or maybe I am finally comfortable in my own skin.

Either way, I am proud to be my own family of one.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Terrie is a Laryngectomee (you can’t even imagine how long it has taken me to remember the correct way to spell that). Meaning Terrie had to have her voice box removed due to cancer. Cancer caused from smoking.

Terrie now speaks with the aide of a voice prosthesis.

When I met Terrie at the airport for the first time we hugged. After six months of planning it felt like we already knew each other. She had asked me in one of her emails what she should pack. I replied to pack as much as she wanted and we would sort through it together when she got here. When I went to grab her bags I quickly found out that she took me up on my offer.

Not being used to large luggage and having never spent any time with someone who has a physical handicap, I decided that we should just muscle the two 50lb bags, carry on, and laptop bag to the car.

I know. I’m an insensitive jerk, right?

We hadn’t gone more than 20 feet and poor Terrie was out of breath. I can’t even tell you how horribly embarrassed I was. But Terrie, after catching her breath and seeing my look of panic, just smiled at me sweetly and said, “Just another day in the life of a Laryngectomee. Do you think we can get one of those baggage cart things?”

Our first stop after leaving the airport was to pick up my counterpart on the anti-tobacco account, Adam (or Mr. Bramwell as I like to call him). Not being under any tight time constraints to drive to our first destination of Price Utah, we stopped for lunch.

Adam and I had a million questions for Terrie and she told us that we had her permission to ask her anything we wanted. Throughout the next five days I found out Terrie’s life story, one amazing story after another. But it was at that first lunch together that I found out something that would change me forever. Terrie told us she had something she wanted us to know. The doctors found three more areas of cancer in her body and she was going in to find out what the treatment regime was going to be the day after she returned from her trip to Utah.

Terrie is a ten time cancer survivor already. Ten. TEN!

How in the name of all that is right in the world could this woman who I had already fallen in love with in less than an hour, possibly be subjected to more cancer?

I cried.

She told us that she didn’t mention it to us before because she didn’t want us to think she wasn’t well enough to come out here.

Terrie is tough as nails.

Then she told us that it was okay because she was lucky. They caught it early and she has really good doctors and it will probably just be more chemo, but not the really bad type, she normally doesn’t loose her hair, just her eye lashes, sometimes.

She said all of this with a straight face and 100% sincerity. That is the type of person Terrie is. The most amazing optimist that ever existed in the history of the world. Ever.

Outside of touring the state giving presentations to Jr High and High Schools, our secondary purpose for bringing Terrie from her home in North Carolina to Utah was to film her for both an ad campaign and the creation of an educational DVD. I work in advertising as I said, but I am on the planning/strategy/client relations/management of projects side of things. So when my agencies creative director asked me if I would be the one to interview Terrie, it was a huge honor on multiple levels.

When I told Terrie that I would be the one to interview her she was both excited and relieved. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind discussing some of the questions over dinner with a glass (or two) of wine. It was just the two of us and I have to say it was one of my favorite nights. I had my exclusive one on one with a woman who daily continued to blow me away with her strength, personality, ginormous heart, gumption and love. She made me cry, again, and I fell even more in love with her.

And that was just my second night with her.

In the five and a half days Terrie was here she spoke at eleven schools, was featured on every local TV news channel, local newspapers, and was on “Good Things Utah,” one of our early morning talk shows, and in between that she was filmed, photographed, and adored by all. Through it all she never once complained. Never once acted put out or tired. She was a trooper. Her energy kept me going.

At one of the photo shoots I asked the photographer to take a picture of the three of us. I was able to get it printed and framed to give to her as a surprise goodbye gift.

When it came time to say goodbye I was devastated. I’m not going to lie, I was a blubbering fool walking her to the check-point at the airport. I didn’t want my new friend to leave. Work had never been so much fun and I have never been so uplifted by one person. I didn’t know I could form a bond with someone so quickly and I didn’t want our time together to end.

Terrie text me from the plane, from her layover stop, and finally when she got home.

We continue to text daily. She asks me about my dates and rubs it in my face that it is sunny and 80+ degrees in North Carolina while it is still snowing here in Utah. I ask her about her daughters wedding and we laugh together through the distance.

I miss her incredibly but I am so proud of the work we were able to accomplish in her short time here. After every school presentation she gave, dozens of kids would come up to her and to give her a hug or tell her how much her story had impacted them. And now we have a whole campaign and will be able to share her story with even more of the world.

Filming was emotional. It effected all of us, from the camera, lights, sound, make-up and production crew to, of course, our star Terrie. Here is the 30 second television commercial.

Terrie Hall 30 sec TV

Want to see more?

You can view all of  Terrie’s TV commercials on our TRUTH Against Tobacco YouTube channel.

You can view her full presentation from the TRUTH Against Tobacco website.

And you can view the rest of some of my pictures with Terrie from my Flickr account.

One last thing, before taking Terrie to the airport, I HAD to take her to my favorite place – the mountains. She shared so much beauty with me, I felt it was only fair to share some back.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I know this is going to sound a little odd, but I freaking love spending time working on The Farm.

Seriously.

Of course by “The Farm,” I mean the farm ED grew up on and that by default I get invited to. I’d like to say it’s because of my sparkling personality, which is probably taken into account, but it is also because of my willingness to help out.

Which I totally do.

Except this time I forgot my work jeans. ED informed me that I should always, always, ALWAYS plan on having work jeans with me each time I go down there (that’s what she said… heheheh).

Step One

Use scary machine #1: The Swather

Cut the alfalfa with the super scary machine's razor sharp teeth.

Let the freshly cut windrows of alfalfa dry. For how long? Until it's ready. True farm folk can tell just by looking at it.

Step two

Use scary machine # 2: The Baler. Let said scary baler eat the perfectly dried hay.

It then chews it up, binds it and craps it out the back.

Step three

Pick up the bales of hay with the intimidating giant bale wagon that sorts and stacks them for you.

Carefully back up and unload the giant bale wagon thingy. Cover your eyes if you get nervous.

Actually, better yet, let it unload itself.

Pray it all doesn't tip over. Reassure the bunny hatch and the chickens that it won't.

That?

Well, that’s pretty much it.

The night after baling hay, eat lots of carbs, drink whiskey, play cards and sleep soundly. After all, you freaking deserve it.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – more pictures of the farm/baling adventure can be seen HERE.

My adorable niece was also there and wanted to be a part of the action. However, her patience with grown-up conversations started to dwindle. She tried to get attention using every four-year-old trick in the handbook. We would appease her for a minute and then go back to our conversation. Soon she gave up…  or so we thought.

She disappeared into the other room, and when she returned she was wearing this:

When she walked out in her finest gown with smeared, red lipstick on her face, I had to laugh. It’s no wonder women get all dolled up before they leave the house. We learn at a very young age that it gets us attention. Even my Dad, in his drugged up state, took the time to tell her how cute she looked.

I’m not saying this is good or bad, just that it finally makes sense to me. I get ready before I leave the house because I like to feel pretty. I don’t need anyone to validate me or give me attention like my adorable niece does — I do that for myself. My outfits are typically a notch or two more low key than hers was, but I do feel better about myself when I look made up and yes, sometimes my confidence comes from an extra coat of mascara and a little lipstick.

It’s my fail proof pick-me-up.

Well that, or having my Dad tell me I look nice.

OK, so maybe I haven’t grown up so much after all.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Step 2. Make sure there is plenty of wine and/or vodka.

Step 3. Upon seeing each other for the first time in over a week, hug until you can not breath.

Step 4. Cry.

Step 5. Pour two glasses of wine to the brim and make sandwiches.

Step 6. Put children to bed, pour second glasses of wine and sit on couches holding pillows.

Step 7. Have “the talk”. Apologize, accept responsibility, come up with a plan to never fight again and promise to prioritize your friendship.

Step 8. Cry some more. Hug some more. Top off wine glasses.

Step 9. Watch three episodes of Weeds. Compare the characters to people you actually know.

Step 10. Pause weeds. Microwave home waxing kit. Wax each others eyebrows and peach fuzz. Laugh at how ridiculous you both look in the mirror.

Step 11. Text boyfriend to let him know you got your best friend back but you are missing an eyebrow. Laugh hysterically when he believes you.

Step 12. Realize the time. Hug again, say goodbye and I love you. Text when arriving home safely. Finally sleep through the night.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I think they are neither.

In the essay (“Campus Climate Control” in case you are curious), the author mainly debates the needs for a balance between no adult supervision and an overly dominate presence on campus. I’m not particularly interested in that part and I can’t speak to what campus life is like. What I can share are my own feelings of going through that child-not-yet-adult stage.

I remember very clearly the strange transition from being under my parent’s ever present watch and guidance to being on my own to make my own decisions. All of a sudden I was working a full time job. I had credit cards and a lease on an apartment. I was completely dumbfounded by the amount of responsibility that was seemingly handed to me overnight. I kept thinking ‘when are these people going to realize I have no idea what I am doing?’

I was still a teenager but I had utility bills and a car lease in my name! Soon it became almost a  game of sorts to see just how many people would extend credit to me. After a while I had credit cards (and bills) for every major department and retail store in town. I had no one to tell me to be careful or to watch what I was doing, so I took the feeling of freedom and the high I got from buying whatever I wanted and I ran with it!

Before I knew it my monthly bills were leaving me with no discretionary income. I was grocery shopping in my parents kitchen (something I still do from time to time) and using my credit card (that wasn’t at its limit) to buy gas for my car.

Outside of bills, I had no one to remind me how important it was to wake up and go to class because education actually is important, so I dropped out—a mistake I would realize ten years later.

At the time I would tell you that I had everything under control and I knew what I was doing, but truth be told I was scared out of my mind! I kept waiting to feel like an adult, but most of the time I felt like a kid dressing up in her moms clothes.

It was a weird scary place to be that’s for sure, one that I am so glad I do not live in anymore. Not that this next stage of NOT being asked for ID when you go to the liquor store is so great or anything. I’m just saying it’s nice to finally know what I am doing.  It’s nice to not be in the “neither” stage. It’s nice to be… an adult?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Me: “So I ate 6 cookies before coming to the gym tonight.”

ED: “Six cookies! Why?”

Me: “Because I needed a snack and I knew that our work out tonight would cancel them out. That’s how it works. I’m surprised you didn’t know that. Plus I had milk, which is healthy, so, you know, that helps too.”

ED: “Sweetheart, that is not exactly how it works.”

Me: “Um, yeah it is.”

***

Yesterday my amazing friends Sarah and Susan responded to my plea for relief from the bondage of homework. We met up at the Utah Arts Festival and even though they chose not to share the dress code with me (bitches) it was exactly the break I needed.

And wouldn’t you know, they share the same brilliant logic as me!

We figured the calories from the wine, beer, pizza, hot dogs, ice cream and fries we collectively consumed all didn’t count. You see, when you are at an outdoor festival or event nothing counts because they are so few and far between that it’s practically a crime NOT to take full advantage. Plus we were out in the hot sun sweating out any pesky calories that may have gotten into our food. Also, should there have been any calories, we were totally covered because we all pretty much skipped breakfast but still managed to do individual morning workouts.

So, yeah, a day of no calorie guilt with my girls! How sweet is that?

Oh and the best part is, as an added bonus for me, Sarah and Susan both agreed that the fact I worked out on a Saturday night counts as double calorie canceling points. So in reality, I’m like way ahead in this whole calorie canceling game and can eat 6 more cookies today!

Psshh! Fitness coach my ass. I should write a book on this stuff.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I had written a post over the weekend (that I chose not to post) titled “Some Stories Are Not Meant To Be Told”. It was basically about holding painful memories back and how it is probably the “right” thing to do.

Apparently… I was wrong.

I am now on a “bland” food diet until I get my “stress/gut symptoms” back under control. That means no spicy food, no acidic food, no greasy food, no chocolate, no alcohol, oh and no coffee or soda! Yeah, so basically what I am telling you is that holding stress inside has ruined my life… at least for the next week or so.

I highly recommend you find ways to communicate your stress, maybe see a counselor or hit a punching bag, that you will not end up like me – sober and eating oatmeal.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I was tired (and by tired I mean too busy trying to catch up on my DVR shows) last night and didn’t get a new post written. I decided to bring my laptop with me to work so that I could write on my lunch break. So, since it’s lunch time and since I am sitting in a Russian owned coffee shop plus I have these adorable pictures I have not shared… here you go!

My darling BFF, Karina the Russian, often joins me for lunch and brings along her (our) 2 beautiful Russian children. On this particular beautiful spring day last week, we decided that lunch should consist of pizza at the park. The kids couldn’t have been happier with this idea.

We soaked up as much sun and grease as we could. Karina commented on how it was so beautiful that you don’t even need to close your eyes to “create a moment”. Creating a moment is something we often do. You simply take a bite of food, shut your eyes and focus on simply being in that moment closing out all other thoughts. We even do this with the kids so when Dimitri heard his mom say this he promptly spoke up, “nut-uh! Mom you have to close your eyes to create a moment. That’s how you do it!”

Not to be out done, little Pasha decided to teach us a lesson as well. Although she is better at letting us figure it out for ourselves rather than telling us. So what did we learn? Do not, under any circumstances, share a drink with a 2 year old child – especially one who is eating pizza!

Blogfully yours,

Summer