The one Where Emzy was Sure she was Going to Die

I don't even feel like I need to discuss this one very much. Just read the conversation Emzy and I had on Sunday via GoogleTalk....

(oh, and BTW I did very little editing...mostly just copy and paste, so please excuse the type-os!)

6:07 PM Emily: Sooooo
I think I may have the flu
6:09 PM And by think I mean know
6:13 PM If I die you can have all my stuff!
6:17 PM Make sure amanda gets her straightener back from my luggage :)
6:18 PM Let chris keep what he wants from the kitchen...that you don't need since he has nothing
6:25 PM me: Dramatic much?
6:26 PM :)
Emily: Ha but for real
It feels like the beginning of swine 09
me: Lovely
6:28 PM When do you come home?
Emily: tomorrow
6:29 PM me: Oh ok
Emily: My body is freezing and sweating
And I'm twitchy
6:30 PM Its a dry cough and no sinus pressure that's why I know its not a cold
Like no snot
me: Ummm
You're gonna be fun to fly with
Emily: :(
6:31 PM me: Yuck
Emily: I knowwwww
I'm really sad and I just want to lay in bed and drink juice
6:32 PM me: Well you better get better before we go to nannys
Emily: I knowwwwwwwwwww
6:34 PM I wish I had an extra day here
me: Sorry
Emily: My luck
6:35 PM I still have £25 cash
me: Buy me stuff at the airport
Lol
Emily: I already got you stuff
me: Candy?
6:36 PM Emily: Got sooo much
me: Just a suggestion
Lol
Emily: Prob will buy more
I think my case is gonna be spot on for weight again
6:37 PM me: Nice
Emily: I'm a pro
6:38 PM me: Lol
6:39 PM Yeah ya are
Emily: That can be on my headstone
What I was known for
me: Ya ok
6:40 PM Emily: And remember you and sean are making eugooglies
Ok? Yours funny hers nice
me: Ok
6:41 PM Emily: Garrett can try and talk but he'll be crying too much
me: True
Emily: And I dont know if he should be a pall bearer..he might drop me
Although.....
That would be one helluva last entry for life....and death with emzy
me: That would be a GREAT blog
6:42 PM Emily: Lolololol
I'm picturing it now

The One Where Emzy Rented a Car in Turkey

After a budding summer romance in 2008 turned into something a little more long term, Emzy decided that she couldn't pass up the chance to visit one Mr. Barry in his homeland of Turkey. And since her job was already flying her to the UK to recruit camp staff, it didn't cost much to tack on an extra trip to Istanbul. Barry was a student in Antalya in February of 2009. So to Antalya she went!

Emzy was met at the airport by Barry and, subsequently, a guy from the rental car company. I guess it was the Turkish version of Enterprise's "We'll Pick You Up" cause the guy then took them to a total sketchball warehouse in which they signed for the vehicle. And on a side note, let's thank good old Papa C (inspired by our Auntie Paula) for insisting that both Emzy and I learn to drive a stick-shift before moving on to an automatic transmission. [Full disclosure though, Emily is quite a pro at the standard transmission. I, on the other hand, can survive it only in dire circumstances.]

So here was Emzy, zipping around a foreign [non-English-speaking] country in a teensy weensy rental car. Now, for anyone who knew Emzy years ago, you will find this story so hard to believe. You will think I am just weaving tales because the Emzy you knew a decade ago would never travel to a country where she didn't speak the language and where they didn't serve your everyday American cuisine. But this new, grown-up Emzy is adventurous and willing to try new things. On a later trip to Turkey she even tried eating SEA URCHIN.

Moving on. Emzy did her research prior to her trip and had decided on several locations that she wanted to visit and things she wanted to do. It also happened that she was traveling there in the middle of winter, which is not exactly peak Mediterranean weather. So as they were traveling around, they ended up in a bit of snow. Quite a bit actually:

And they weren't sure how long the rental car would last in those conditions. Luckily, the rental car company wasn't TOO sketchy and supplied tire chains to use in case of inclement weather. Too bad neither Barry nor Emzy had any idea how to put them on. But as they were pulled over trying to figure it out, some nice gentlemen pulled over behind them and offered to help. They put on the chains and then asked them for 20 lira. Which is the equivalent of about $11. The only cash they could scrounge up was 15 lira. So they gave the guys approximately $8 (USD) and went on their merry way.

The old adage proves true here, that 'you get what you pay for.' As they were driving, they kept hearing this funny noise but just figured that's what the chains sound like when they're being driven on. And then a couple hours later, the SAME random guys on the highway flagged them down to tell them it was time to take off the chains. Please, someone tell me where I can apply for that job! Barry refused to pay them the second time, but when they got to the next town he and Emzy noticed that the chains had scratched up the car to all kinds of pieces. Sweet.

So as if that wasn't a random enough day, it gets better. A few days later they traveled to Cappadocia. Let me just briefly say that Cappadocia is one of the TOP FIVE places in the world I want to visit. It has been for quite some time. And here Emzy goes, gallivanting over to Turkey to take a sunrise hot air balloon ride over the place. But I'm not bitter.

As they are driving through one of the small towns, a Russian babushka-looking lady waves at them from the sidewalk and then proceeds to get into the backseat of the car. She is carrying all sorts of stuff...a regular bag lady I'm told. She yelled something at Barry in Turkish (I should note that whenever native speakers of Turkish are conversing, it always sounds as though they are angry) and they chatted for a bit. He told Emzy to keep driving a couple blocks and then let her out. Afterward, Emzy asked what had just happened. Barry responded with a simple, "I have no idea."

I really don't believe that things such as this happen in every day life. But Emzy continues to prove me wrong every day. Because, of course, there comes a time when the rental car must be returned. And if you recall, it was damaged. Since she had a flight at a weird time, Emzy had to return the car at approximately 2 o'clock in the morning. And because of the damage, the rental folks insisted that she go next door to the police station for a breathalyzer. Because she MUST have been intoxicated in order for that kind of damage. She couldn't really believe that it was happening, but went along anyway. And the police....they just laughed her out of the station!

The One Where Emzy Made Halftime NOT a Family Show

If you know Emzy or myself, there's a good chance you are aware that we were both in marching band throughout high school and college. You are probably also aware that Emzy is not well endowed in the hips and rear end region. I'm not saying she doesn't have them. They just aren't very big. So when she went off to be a college girl, she wasn't exactly ready for the Racer Band uniforms they had at the time. They consisted of pants with suspenders, a jacket, a ruffled dickie, and a cummerbun. Very classic. But not very functional.

Picture a college football stadium on Homecoming day. The stands were packed. There was this part in one of the songs where all the flute players ran to the front sideline and grabbed cymbals (I mean really, what's the point of a flute in a marching band anyway?!?). Somewhere between the middle of the field and the sideline, Emzy's suspenders broke. And down came her pants, just like London Bridge.

With almost 200 people on the field, I'm not sure how many people noticed. But I noticed. And that's what's important.

The One Where Emzy Came Back from Sabbatical

It was just a week or so ago when I was talking to Emzy about how she was all spent up. Nothing on her level of ridiculous has happened recently and I was beginning to worry that I was already out of current material before I even really started. I was trying to console myself and come to terms that this blog was doomed to retelling stories of years past. She was on a seemingly permanent sabbatical from the crazy life. I was beginning to feel the walls closing in.

And then Emzy brought pizza over for dinner tonight.

Not just any pizza. It's Pat's Pizza, which to my knowledge is only available in the Baltimore AREAand points east of it. And what a shame that is, because Pat's is AMAZING. I'm pretty sure they put crack cocaine in the sauce, because whenever I eat a piece, it's like I neeeeeeed another piece, or I might just die.

So after we consumed enough pizza to ensure that we would one day be standing up at a Pat's Pizza Anonymous meeting, we turned the TV on to find one of those shows about hoarding. You know, the kind where people find carcasses amid the debris belonging to pets they thought were long lost in the woods or are so buried in their own excrement they failed to realize they even still own a toilet.

And then, out of nowhere, Emzy starts yelling about her foot, her toe, her ankle, how something isn't right. At first I couldn't tell if she was serious. She was making this sound that you can't really tell if it's laughing or crying. I like to call it the "tickle-hurt." Like when you bang your funny bone on the door frame and you want to laugh and cry all at once. She says that she can't move her second toe, it's having a muscle spasm.

Okay. Who has muscle spasms in their toes?!?! Emzy does!

I didn't know what to do to help, so I tried massaging it, like Mom and Dad used to do whenever we had charlie horses in the middle of the night (there's a funny story there about how I inadvertently dropped the F-bomb to my mom, but this blog isn't about me...). Whenever I touched her second toe, especially the base of it, she started screaming bloody murder. We went on like this for about five minutes, with me asking if she needed to go see a doctor. She couldn't make a decision so she told me to call Mom.

SOOOOO I get Mom on the phone and ask her what we should do...walk in clinic or emergency room. And she treats it like a multiple choice test and answered with, "that's the emergency room, right?" Which is what I thought, since Emzy was still screaming like she was being attacked by an axe murderer. I am actually quite surprised the neighbors didn't come over to check or at least call the police for a domestic disturbance. It was basically out of control.

After a while it was over and she went back to having full control of her lower extremity. And I was speechless. Not to mention KINDA freaked out. But also kind of excited....cause Emzy's BACK!

The One Where Emzy Got "Bullied"

Two of our many formative years were spent living with our mother at her parents' house in rural Arkansas while our father was in Army flight school in Alabama. The rules have since changed, but at the time, pilots-in-training (my term, not the Army's) were not permitted to reside with their families during their initial training. So we lived a charmed life of playing outside with the random array of farm animals that Daddy B kept in the back yard and letting our imaginations run wild, creating one fantasy after the next, and usually while wearing nothing but underwear and wellies (known to most of the world as galoshes).

This story particularly revolves around the animals of the bovine persuasion at Penrivendell (that's the name my grandmother gave to their home - I'm not sure where she got it, but if you recall the Elven city of Rivendell in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, it means, "the last homely home"). There were three altogether - a bull and two cows. One cow was named Heiffer and the other two didn't have official names. It wasn't long after our arrival that Emzy and I took it upon ourselves to give them some, though.

While I like to think that we were very creative during our playtime, we failed miserably at creative animal names. What I am about to say is almost as bad as naming your cat Kitty or your dog Barker. The bull at Penrivendell was kind of mean and was always busting through the fence, leaving Daddy B with and endless bull wrangling and fence patching. In fact, I'm pretty sure that it was in hanging out with him while he fixed the fence that I learned my first swear words. Anyway, because of his mean streak and the fact that he was a bull, we bestowed upon him the name Bully. I promise this story gets better.

The nameless cow was a bit of a genetic oddity. It is a well known fact [I believe] that horns on cows are not overly common. Not unheard of, but not an everyday occurrence. And since Heiffer didn't have any horns, we thought the obvious name for this cow was Horny. Go ahead and laugh. First because it's hilarious. And second because our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and every other adult around just played along as if nothing was remotely funny about the name we chose for her. And I don't blame them one bit. I mean, who wants to explain to a three year old and a six year old that Horny isn't an appropriate name for the cow in the back yard? Nobody!

It wasn't too much longer until we found out that Horny was expecting a baby calf (and with a name like that, who would be surprised?!?!?). Emzy and I absolutely could not agree on a suitable name for the little critter. Finally, a compromise had to be reached. We agreed that if it was a girl, Emzy would choose the name. And if it was a boy, I would get to choose. So Emzy picked out the name Buttercup. It really is cute. There's a part of me that, to this day, is a little saddened that the calf was a boy. And I was completely unprepared. So on the fly I named it Little John Bull, after Daddy B, whose name is John. I am also pretty certain that there is a small part of Emzy that hasn't completely forgiven me either.

But of course there came a time when the bovines had to go. We never really knew what happened to Heiffer, although we assume she died. She was always there, and then she just wasn't. Daddy B had found a farmer down the road to take Bully, Horny, and Little John Bull. They were getting to be too much work, too much money, and too many fence repairs. So the farmer backed his trailer into the yard. I remember being outside playing in my own world when Mom told me to come inside while they loaded up. Emzy, being all grown up at the ripe age of 7, wanted to stand by the pool and watch. She promised that she would stand very still on one of the support beams and wouldn't get in the way. Mom, and I stood by the back door while Auntie Jane video taped the proceedings through the window. (How fancy were we with a video camera in 1989?!?)

Horny and Little John Bull walked right on into the trailer without a problem. They had a little trouble getting Bully in the trailer, but they managed. Except once he was in he decided he didn't like it much. He snapped the gate right off the back of that trailer and took off charging around the pool, straight for Emzy. When she realized that there was over two thousand pounds of angry bull coming in her direction, she hopped down and hightailed it for the house. It was like a scene from a movie. I guess it kind of was since it was caught on camera...but I digress. Mom opened the door just in time for Emzy to squeeze in, slammed the big door, and then we looked around at each other in disbelief. I distinctly remember telling them to lock the door. As if a standard doorknob lock was going to keep Bully from charging the door.

Luckily he had other plans in mind. He kept avoiding all the guys in the back yard who were trying to wrangle him and get him back in the trailer and off to his new home. But at this point, Horny and Little John Bull decided they didn't want to miss out on the party. They lumbered out of the trailer and joined in the chaos. Daddy B and the farmers from down the road ended up having to lead them on foot to their new homes. This might have been the first time I recall asking, "Is this real life?"

The One Where Emzy DIDN'T Have to Clean the Whole House

For the first three years we lived in Colorado, Emzy and I rode the bus to school. But then she had to get all grown up and move on to middle school....the middle school that was just behind our house. Needless to say, she walked to and from school for sixth grade.

On the third day of the school year, Mom watched through the kitchen window as Emzy limped home. Upon her arrival, she asked Mom to wrap up her foot. But as soon as she started, Emzy screamed bloody murder and said she needed to go to the emergency room.

Now, Emzy might be overly dramatic at all times, but when she asks to go to the doctor, you know it's serious. For example, a few years ago she passed out in the shower while I was visiting her in Baltimore for spring break. When I insisted that she go to the emergency room she said, and I quote, "You don't know how to get there and I don't have to tell you." It wasn't until I threatened to call an ambulance that she couldn't afford that she became a little more cooperative.

But back to middle school. Mom had been cleaning the house and getting ready for some sort of Army Wife get-together the following day. And when Emzy asked to go to the ER, Mom (in what I'm sure she would say today is not one of her most shining motherly moments) said, "Emily Jane, if that foot isn't broken you are going to clean this whole house!" Might not be a shining Mommy moment, but I still think it's hilarious.

Because it turns out that her foot actually WAS broken. So Emzy didn't clean the house and spent the next few weeks awkwardly hopping along on crutches. But within the next 14 months Emzy managed to fall and get herself back on crutches twice more. Once while trying to catch a lizard a week before we left Colorado and again at the church Halloween party a few months after we moved to Alaska.

So you may not think this story is overly hilarious. Just wait. You see, the reason she fell in the first place on her way home from school as that she wasn't paying attention to where she was walking and stepped in a hole. Why wasn't she paying attention you ask? Because she was busy singing, "I like big butts and I cannot lie......."

The One Where Emzy Wore the Yoga Top

I can't even decide where to begin on this one. It is one of the most epic of Emzy's tales. But I'll take my cue from Fraulein Maria and start at the very beginning. Which is, of course, a very good place to start.

This story dates back to the summer of 2007. Both Emzy and I were working at camp - me for the summer and she for her full time job. During the week of staff orientation, we had a special evening that we cleverly named "Staff Fun Night." This year we went all out and rented a blow up jousting arena and water slide. I even bought an ice cream cone costume to wear while handing out various ice cream novelties. Kind of cannibalistic now that I think about it....

But anyway. Somewhere throughout the course of the evening, it started to rain. It went from torrential downpour that's perfect for summer-playing-in-the-rain to a light sprinkle and every level in between. And since I love playing in the rain, I was quite content. I hadn't planned on going on the water slide since I had just finished college and lost my health insurance (thanks a lot, Tricare...what an awesome graduation gift!) so I clearly didn't want to chance an injury. But I was already wet from the rain so why not?!?

And as it turns out I quite loved the slide. I couldn't get enough. Which is why I kind of missed the commotion that ensued. While I was waiting in line to climb back up the slide, Emzy went down the slide in tandem with one of the Australian girls. As the other girl went to stand up, her knee came up right into Emzy's chin. Emzy stood up and stumbled a little before proclaiming that she was dizzy.

If you've ever met her, you know that she's a tad bit dramatic, especially when it comes to illness and injury. But it wasn't long before I realized that this time, it was for real. I mean honestly though, ONLY EMZY would end up needing an ambulance from a BLOW UP WATERSLIDE. So this was slightly scary for me but also mildly amusing. Cause although Emzy is overly dramatic when she is hurt or ill, she doesn't want anyone to help make her better either.

So she was fighting off the EMTs and trying to tell them that she really was gonna be okay..she just needed to go to bed. HELLO CONCUSSION! One of the counselors ran to the cabin to get me dry clothes and a change of clothes for her and we were loaded up in the ambulance and on our way.

They didn't wait long before they allowed me back into the trauma room. Em was in and out of consciousness but relatively lucid when she was awake. The exact details of the hours we spent there are kind of fuzzy, but what I remember most is the following conversation when it came time to get her out of her wet clothes and off to radiology:

Nurse: Okay Emiy, we might have to cut off your clothes - is that okay?

Emzy: My shorts should come off easy. You can cut off my shirt. It's just a yoga top.

Nurse: Alright we'll see if we need to.

Emzy: Really it's okay - it's just one of those yoga tops. I only paid $3 for it.

Nurse: Okay - what about your swimsuit?

Emzy: Oh, no - you can't cut that - it's expensive. But my yoga top is not. You can cut that if you need to.

Me: Really Em?! Mom will buy you a new swimsuit if they have to cut it.

Emzy: But I don't want a new one - they can cut of the yoga top. It's just a yoga top. I don't really need the yoga top. But I have to keep the swimsuit.

Nurse: I think we'll be okay, Emily.

Emzy: Okay but it's really just a yoga top. It's okay if it doesn't last.

ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THE YOGA TOP....WE GET IT!!! That was my internal monologue.

And seriously. Only Emzy would be simultaneously concussed and concerned with educating the world on what kind of shirt she was wearing.

Oh, and then we went to Sheetz on the way back to camp. Yummy.