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.

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

It started last week when my Yahoo email account was hacked and sent out links to a Viagra to everyone in my contacts list. Sorry if you were one of them. I promise I am not that concerned about your erection or lack there of.

Then on Friday night Karina the Russian and I went to a concert. We only wanted to see the opening band (Staind) so we left when they were done to get a cold beverage that didn’t cost $9. Well, like the smart person I am, I decide NOT to bring my purse and just put my iPhone in my back pocket. Somewhere between visiting three restrooms at the concert venue and one at the bar, my phone disappeared. We back tracked and retraced all of our steps including turning the car inside out, and being escorted by security through the concert venue after everyone had left  (which was actually kind of embarrassing because we had to take them to the back stage restrooms we snuck into). All to no avail. My freaking phone is gone!

I spent the weekend moving (more on that soon!) and came across my old Black Jack phone, so at least I have that. Although the internet is not working on it so I need to take it to At&t and ask them WTF? It sucks, I miss my iPhone! I feel so disconnected with the world!

Needless to say, due to my crazy weekend, I didn’t so much as glance at my homework. When I rolled into my new pad last night at 8:30 pm, cat in hand (I had just picked her up from my parents), my intention was to bust out some serious study time. Only problem, I don’t have access to the secured wireless account set up at my place. It’s a Mac Airport, I have a PC.

Just one more chance for technology to shove it’s fat middle finger right in my face.

I’m hoping that my not-technology-retarded brother in law will be able to make the Mac and PC play nice together, because I haven’t so much as a clue to how to make them work. However, I’m keeping my stress level relatively low, ignoring the fact that I have an online assignment due by midnight tonight and spending my lunch break writing this instead of studying. It’s OK though, everything is going to work out. If I tell myself that long enough, it has to come true.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I am moving next weekend (insert happy dance) to my new place! To catch you up, I have been temporarily living with my parents for the past month until my new place is ready. IT’S FINALLY READY!!! And since I sold a lot of my old decorations to rid myself of bad juju, I needed to get new stuff. Retail therapy–I don’t care what anybody says–is great. Although I can’t say it helped me forget that I was fighting with my best friend. In fact, it made me miss her more.

Sunday I decided to abuse my body and rejuvenate my soul by going for a four mile downhill hike. My knees hate me right now, but look how totally beautiful it was!

The view from the top of Snowbird Resort

It was a little Chilly right after getting off the tram

But the hike is oh so worth it

The leaves are starting to change!

making mountain sides look on fire with bright oranges, reds and yellows

The wild flowers are still in bloom towards the bottom of the trail

But this has to be my favorite picture from the hike!

You’d think with the shopping and nature therapy I did this weekend I would be quite content – but I am not. I miss my best friend and I need to find a way to get over myself and get things back to the way they used to be. Life is too short to spend it upset and good friends are hard to come by. I just hope she’s come to the same conclusion!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I’m still a little mad about that…

Anyway, I lived with this gaggle of girls not-yet-turned women for 18 months and once the lease was up, I moved to where I knew I would always be welcome–my parents house.

When I left my parents house for the first time, I was their good little Mormon daughter. When I returned back, things had changed. I tried to put up a charade–for fear of disappointing them–that I was still the same spiritually enlightened, “morally clean” person. I even took a church calling to be a primary teacher (though the guilt of being a poser nearly killed me!).

Sadly, after being caught drinking underage by a team of power hungry cops, my cover was blown. My parents told me it was live by their rules or move out! Being the emotional hormone-ridden teen that I was, I understood that to mean they were kicking me out.

Through the years I have moved back home a total of 6 times. SIX! Each time my parents have welcomed me back and each time they have come to except me and my non-Mormon ways more and more. They may not approve of my life style any more today than they did 10 years ago, but they have become more tolerant.

For example, Sunday morning I came home after a sleepover with ED to find my parents in the kitchen with my niece and nephew who they were watching for the weekend. My Mom turns to my five year old niece and smugly says, “Rowan, ask Summer why she wasn’t here to have a sleep over with you last night”, then gives me a small, smart-ass smile.

I love my Mother. Tolerance with a sense of humor … I’ll take that over guilt trips and lectures any day!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Packing forces you to evaluate what is important to you and what you can do without. I got rid of everything that held a tie to a life I don’t wish to take with me to my new place.

Such as:

Decorations from when I was married – GONE!

Guitar from an ex-boyfriend that I never learned to play – GONE!

Shoes that pinch my feet and/or need to be repaired – GONE!

Clothes that are (now) two sizes too big – GONE!

Child size dresser I have been using since I was a child – GONE!

Gone. Gone. Gone! I feel so liberated!

Thanks to my wonderful friend Susan and her ginormous garage sale I was able to sell some items and I donated or gave away the rest. Honestly it is such a freeing feeling to have it all gone! I feel ten times lighter! I’m going to move into my new place with no decorations and hardly any furniture BUT the items I do have are things I got on my own with no negative energy or memories attached! Plus I now have every excuse in the world to shop!

Yay for new beginnings and profitable happy endings!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – a great big THANK YOU to ED, Jason and Staci for helping me move and for consuming the last of my food booze candy. Thank you to Karina the Russian for letting me store the furniture I have left in her garage. And thank you to my parents who were willing to put me up in their Jesus themed guest room until my new place is ready and for letting me borrow their truck and for letting my cat stay here too. She says “thanks”… it just came out sounding like a hiss… I’m still working on teaching her manners.

Aurora making herself right at home so long as the dog is outside.

1. Gathering Moving supplies. I have made two trips to the liquor store to get boxes. Unfortunately each time I go I feel bad just asking for boxes without purchasing anything, so I buy a bottle… or two. It’s like when you are on a road trip and need to use a gas station restroom; if you don’t buy a candy bar or an energy drink you are kind of an ass.

2. Newspaper turns my hands black. I’m a little more like my three year old niece than I like to admit. I don’t like it when my hands are dirty. Wrapping breakable items in newspaper gives me black hands and it never fails that I touch my face and walk around looking like I clean chimneys for a living.

3. Running into ex-boyfriend memorabilia. You know how after a break-up you take the heartfelt gift the bastard gave you and hide it in a closet or a drawer? You’re not quite ready to just throw it in the trash because, well, it was heartfelt and/or expensive. Then you go to pack and you open up that closet or drawer and it is sitting there like, “hi, I’m here to remind you of the painful past” and you want to grab it and toss it in the nearest dumpster because now you ARE ready, but you can’t because your new boyfriend is standing 10 feet away. Awkward.

4. Begging strong men to help me move. OK, so I didn’t really have to beg. Luckily I have men in my life who are pretty much obligated to help me move. But still I feel bad and I am sure there are a million and one other things they would rather be doing.

5. Having to confront “get to it eventually” piles. I can’t imagine there are people out there who don’t have these. If there are, I don’t know them. The “eventually” part gets put into “now” when packing because, at least for me, I can’t don’t want to pack a box of random crap that I am going to have to sort out a month later when I finally get around to unpacking.

6. Putting the rest of my life on hold. When you have a deadline of having to be out of your place in 3 days you have to say “no” to everything else, that sucks balls. Oh, you are in town visiting and will be leaving tomorrow and won’t be back until Christmas? Sorry, I’m not sure where I packed my purse or my keys and I am pretty sure I can hear my cat trying to get out of the box ED must have “accidentally” packed her in, so I guess I’ll see you in four months.

7. Unpacking. Do I really need to say more? It’s like after you do laundry and you finally have clean clothes to wear. You spend all this time washing and drying them but you still need to fold them and put them away. IT’S NEVER ENDING!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I’ll give you a minute to let that sink in.

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It’s only for about a month, but still, I’M MOVING IN WITH MY PARENTS! My my new place, which I am totally stoked about,  should be ready sometime mid to late September.

Two moves in one months time.

Also, have I mentioned school starts this week too?

If you need me I’ll be at the liquor store…  I hear you can get great moving boxes from there.

Blogfully yours,

Summer