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.

The One Where Emzy Sliced the Mangoes

Today I hosted a Pampered Chef party. We had a fabulous time and ate a lot of delicious food. I spent last night and the majority of this morning prepping the food. Which I absolutely love doing. It's kind of my secret (not anymore) life dream to be a caterer. But one thing I'm not so good at is cutting up mangoes. They are just super tricky.

And since I don't eat a whole lot of mango, I'm not so skilled in them. Emzy, on the other hand, L-O-V-E-S mango. So she is quickly becoming a professional mango slicer. Knowing that she had to take an online test today for the anatomy class she is taking, I didn't want to ask her to do a whole lot. So the only food-related thing I asked her to do was slice mangoes.

She got out of the shower and was wandering around in her towel. I reminded her that I really needed her to slice the mangoes. She asked if she had to be dressed to do so and I responded with the sentiment that it didn't make a difference to me what she was wearing as long as she got them sliced so I could finish making the sweet lemon stuffed taquitos.

I guess she decided that it was a good idea to go ahead and slice them before getting dressed. She was moving along nicely and I decided to take a quick sit-down break until she was finished. As I was sitting in the living room with Garrett, we hear, "crap crap crap!" followed by, "don't come in the kitchen!" This made Garrett sneak a peek into the kitchen only to realize that her towel had fallen to the floor.

Awkward.

But it gets better. Because after the mango was sliced, she was still wandering around in her towel. Mostly because she was in the midst of telling a story. And then I hear Garrett say, "Emily, towel. TOWEL!" Yep, you guessed it. She was flashing her nether regions to the world. But luckily at that moment the world only consisted of me and Garrett. Needless to say she went and got dressed quick, fast, and in a hurry!

The One Where Emzy Made French Bread

As if freshman year of high school isn't painfully awkward enough already.

If you know Emzy today, you would probably never believe what I am about to tell you. She started learning French in the seventh grade and by high school was well on her way to being a fluent speaker. By the end of her junior year she had developed quite a talent for the language, but if you ask her she'll never admit. Just like she will never let on that she was a very adept flutist at one point in life.

But I digress.

As a freshman, Emzy was already in French II. Which is cool from a proud little sister's perspective. But from where she sat, she was the only freshman in a class full of sophomores, juniors, and seniors. And when it came time for a group project, I think she was equal parts excited and terrified. You see, Emzy is one of those people who is happiest breezing through life unnoticed by others. She prefers to go about her business without drawing attention to herself. And she is still embarrassed if my voice and laughter get a little on the loud side in public.

The class project was to work together to make a traditional French meal, share it with the class, and talk about it in class. In French, obviously. I don't really know what the other kids in her group made, but Emzy was tasked with making French bread. She was standing with her group in front of the class, having memorized her lines and waiting her turn to speak.

It is this point in the story when I wish I had also been a student in the class. The presentation was going along smoothly. The other students were occasionally stumbling over their words, I'm sure. And all of a sudden it starts raining French bread. Because Emzy was standing there, nervous as hell, and next thing she knows, she's on the floor and there are pieces of bread EVERYWHERE.

Like I said....as if freshman year isn't awkward enough already.

The One Where Emzy Found a Dead Body

So Emzy has called Baltimore home for just about five years now. For anyone who has spent time dwelling in a city, you know that highly concentrated population leads to ridiculous happenings. There's no getting around that. And while Baltimore certainly is no Gary, Indiana, it's not exactly the safest place. Which makes what I'm about to tell you a little more understandable.

See, Emzy and Kathy (co-worker and former roommate), were heading to downtown Baltimore via St. Paul Street (if you're familiar). As they were bouncing along - if you've ever driven in Baltimore City, you know that bouncing is the correct term - they notice a head poking out from between two cars parked on the side of the road.

A HUMAN HEAD.

They, being CPR/First Aid trained, of course pull over immediately and call 911. It appeared they had come across a boy approximately 13-15 years old, hair in corn rows, and baggy clothes. But as they got closer they realized it was a middle-aged woman. They tapped her shoulder several times to see if she was responsive. Kathy had her pocket CPR mask on hand (never leave home without it!) but thankfully didn't have to use it. The lady woke up and told them she had been hit by a car.

HIT BY A CAR AND LEFT TO DIE?!?!?!

She was mumbling and trying to get up to stumble around while they are trying to get her to stay down and not move. Upon being told that help was on the way, the lady assured them that her mother was on the way to get her and, "Oh look there she is now." To which they responded by telling her that it wasn't her mother she saw, it was her reflection in the window of a parked car.

And just when you think it doesn't get any more ridiculous, a guy gets out of his car and tells Emzy and Kathy that he's glad they stopped. He didn't want to be the first one to get out of his car since it was kind of a sketchy neighborhood. Really right now? When I eventually lose my mind, remind me not to do it on St. Paul Street!

But still, the best is yet to come. Because when the ambulance did arrive, the paramedics were not surprised by what they found. It went something along the lines of, "Oh hey Anita, how are you today?" And then to Emzy and Kathy, "We got this, you can go."

Stuff like this does not happen unless Emzy is involved. I swear.

The One Where Emzy "Went Skiing"

Way back in the day, we lived in Alaska. Right near Fairbanks, to be exact. Beautiful summers and amazing winters. Perfect for skiing. Well, perfect for skiing for everyone EXCEPT dear old (emphasis on the old) Emzy.

See, I joined the cross country ski club in the fourth grade. Saved my money to buy my very own set of skis that I lugged on the school bus every Tuesday and Thursday. Started downhill skiing with Dad in the fifth grade. That ended badly in the spring of sixth grade with an incident that involved and idiot girl and a tree. But that's another story for my own blog, not for the one devoted solely to the ridiculosity of Emzy's life.

Somehow we managed to talk Emzy into giving cross country skiing the old college try. But since we only had one set of teenage sized skis, I waited at the lodge while she and Dad took off for a quick spin on the "warm up loop" of Birch Ski Hill. And, mind you, the warm up loop begins with a slight downhill followed by some pretty level ground. I would know. I skied it several times each week.

I watched as the two of them headed off to the opening of the warm up loop and then went inside the lodge to sit and wait. The place was deserted. I was the only one there. It wasn't your typical ski lodge with a coffee bar and pro shop. Just a log cabin with benches and a bar where the ski moms would serve cookies and home made hot chocolate. I distinctly remember the emptiness of the lodge because I had a chocolate power bar in the front pocket of my pullover pink and black speckled ski jacket. (Don't judge.) I pulled the power bar out of the pocket not long after they left for the loop and took a bite. Rather, I tried to take a bite. It was already frozen solid. And I remember being glad that there was nobody else around to see me being awkwardly hungry.

I wrapped the power bar back up, put it back in the pocket, and went to sit on the bench outside. And as I looked across the open field (do you call it a field when it's covered in snow?) I saw Emzy walking back, carrying the skis. When she made it back to me she said, "I knew I was going to fall! And you guys told me there were no hills. And that was steep at the very beginning!" She gave me the skis and sat down to wait while Dad and I went about our business on the hill.

When I caught back up to Dad, he proceeded to tell me what had actually transpired. As he tried to explain to her how to go slowly downhill by pointing the toes of the skis together, she started off and went about four feet before stopping and basically laying down in the snow. Or, falling, as she swore up and down that she did.

I realize that this is not one of the funniest stories of all time, but this was the beginning of the Epic Falls of Emzy. Even though she brought this one on herself. She had it so set in her mind that she was going to fall, she made sure she did. Oh, Emzy. She never skied again. And still swears to this day that this "fall" dented her shin. That's right. DENTED her SHIN.

The One Where Emzy Ordered Green Peppers

Even by Emzy standards, this one is pretty epic. And it's such a ridiculous string of events, it's hard to decide where to start. So I'll take my cue from Fräulein Maria and start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.

And as it turns out, the beginning involves Emzy (and a couple other staff) managing a major medical crisis with one of the staff members at camp....in the middle of the night. She and the others who were with her finally made it to bed around 4:30 this morning and still managed to roll into breakfast on time.

She and Andrew had already planned to take another staff member (who broke her wrist this past weekend) to the hospital today for surgery to set the broken bone. They had a few hours to kill while she was in surgery, so the headed to Chipotle for a sneaky Code 11 (that was the code name for a Chipotle run at camp last summer). I got a google talk message that said, "OMG - the dad from Jon & Kate Plus 8 is HERE!!!" Of course I didn't exactly believe her, but my skepticism was later alleviated when she posted this:

It's a bit dark, and from a bad angle, but it's cool. I wouldn't want to be creepin on the guy when he was trying to enjoy his delicious burrito. And if that wasn't a random enough happening for the day, they met some new friends on the way back to the hospital. But not the way anyone else meets friends...

Driving down the street with their walkie talkies from camp hanging out in the cupholder, they started hearing some static. And the conversation went something like this:

Girl: Order one case of red pepper and one case of yellow pepper

Guy: Okay

Emzy: And a case of green peppers

Guy: What?

Emzy: Also order a case of green peppers
Guy: okay a case of red, yellow, and green peppers?

Girl: What?

Emzy: And a case of apples

Guy: What is going on? That's weird

Emzy: What's so weird about green peppers and apples?

Girl: Who is this?

Emzy: It's Emily

Girl: Hi Emily. Where are you?

Emzy: In the car, driving down the road. We heard you on our walkie talkies and thought I'd say hi

Girl: Oh cool! We always pick up other peoples' signals but nobody has ever said hi

Emzy: Where are you?

Girl: DSW. You should come in and say hi

Emzy: Maybe I will next time I'm there. What's your name?

Girl: Cory - I'm the store manager

Emzy: Okay cool!

WOW....that's all I have to say about that.

And just to top it all off, when they got back to the hospital, they got stuck in a revolving door. Somehow, I'm not at all surprised.

The One Where Emzy Went to Target

So the title of this blog post really isn't all that surprising. Cause anyone who knows anything about Emzy knows that she goes to Target. A lot. She even has a route through the store. And heaven help you if you go along and throw off the groove. It's bad news.

But this trip to Target was exceptionally ridiculous...even by Emzy standards. She was on a night off from camp with Barry, an international staff member she may or may not be romantically involved with. As they were walking into the store, Barry stopped and pointed to the door frame. Perched there on the corner was a bright blue and green and red parrot-ish bird, just chilling.

With absolutely no idea what to do, Em put Barry in charge of keeping an eye on the bird and she went to talk to the Target customer service. I mean, what exactly do you say in a situation like this? "Umm, excuse me? I just wanted to let someone know that there's an exotic looking bird hanging out on your front door." Well, it went something like that. And the freckled-face 17 year old kid behind the counter responded by handing her a box to keep it in.

The obvious explanation was that this guy had somehow escaped from PetSmart down the street. So off they went, bird in tow. Since PetSmart was closed, they could only enter through the grooming appointments door. And they were greeted by an extra-friendly store associate who informed them rather gruffly that the store was closed and they couldn't be there. When they explained that they thought they had found an escaped animal, the lady showed a bit more interest.

Upon further brief examination (and by further brief examination I mean a quick glance) she told Emzy and Barry that it was a lovebird, that it wasn't from the store, and that they couldn't leave it there. Do things like this happen when Emzy isn't involved....like in real life? I doubt it.

So then I get a phone call while back at camp asking me to look up the number for and call the Frederick County animal control. And since I'm good at doing what I'm told, I called and reported the lost lovebird. I was informed by animal control that it was very unusual to find one lovebird without its mate. That's how they got their name, after all. But can you just imagine how weird my phone call was? "Um, hi, my name's Bekah, and I'm calling to report that my sister (who, by the way, is 30 miles away from me) found this random lovebird by itself at the Target and has absolutely no idea what to do with it but can tell that it doesn't belong there on its own."

So yeah, it was odd. But this is life. Specifically, this is life with Emzy.

The One Where Emzy Didn't Have Anthrax

If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting her, you know good and well that my beloved sister Emzy tends to live life on the dramatic side. For instance, she recently developed a seasonal cough that I attribute to humidity and changing seasons. But of course, she insisted that she has the beginning of tuberculosis. I am sure this is because we discussed the various avenues of TB testing today at breakfast (you know, the little six-needled stamp vs. the sub-epidermal bubble).

The proclamation of her impending doom reminded me of a conversation she and I had about this time last year. It was in the middle of the media hype over the swine...I mean H1N1...flu epidemic. I was Google-Chatting her from work back in Indiana and it went something like this:

Me: So, Em, with all this talk on the news I keep waiting for you to call me and tell me you have the swine.

Emzy: lol...any day now, I'm sure!

Me: You know, just like you had West Nile, and the bird flu, and SARS, and Anthrax

Emzy: Hey, I never had Anthrax!

The One Where Emzy Learned about Physics

We were moving from Fairbanks, Alaska to Fort Campbell, Kentucky in the summer of 1996. We had driven down into Canada and back into Alaska to catch a ferry to Bellingham, Washington (a pretty cool town, btw). Anyway, the details might be hazy on this one but I assure you the hilarity is not.

We had checked in and were waiting to board the ship. They had a pretty spacious terminal with televisions all tuned to the same channel. This was during the beginning of the GameBoy craze so Emzy and I were not so interested in what was on TV. We were sitting towards the back of the terminal and almost everyone else in the place was mesmerized by the flashing colors on the tube.

But more to the point. Both Emzy and I were sitting on a bench. One of those where there are four or five chairs but all attached to a single base. I was sitting normally on a chair on one end and Emzy was sitting sideways on the other end with her feet up across several chairs. After a while I guess I got bored with sitting in the chair so I stretched out on the floor. Everything was A-okay for a few minutes until Emzy shifted her weight a little bit.

And I wish I had words to describe what happened next. Basically, it was like how if you have a bunch of people sitting at a picnic table and everyone on one side gets up. Especially if on even a bit of a hill, the whole thing tips up and everyone falls off the back. That's exactly what happened. Except it was just Emzy on a bench. And I swear that thing must have gone five feet in the air. It slammed back down and she was on the floor.

My parents and I cracked up laughing but seeing as though Emzy had just turned 15 and was at that stage where she would rather be invisible, she was absolutely mortified. There was a group of hippy hikers sitting near us and said that that kind of stuff happens to them all the time. Really? And to this day, whenever I have to sit on one of those benches, I laugh inside and quietly choose a middle seat.

The One Where Emzy Got Rugburn

This one cracks me up just thinking about it. It was just last weekend so it's still fresh in my memory, even though it's not a very long story. Emzy was talking on the phone in her apartment, which has THEWORSTCELLPHONESERVICEEVER!

So naturally, she went out to the balcony where the reception is exponentially better. Apparently her apartment building has some sort of built-in protection from the aliens who want to siphon your brain waves. And when it was built in the 1970s, the idea of cell phones was so ridiculous that nobody thought twice about future implications. At least that's my theory.

Anyway, since Emzy is moving all her stuff into storage for the summer her balcony furniture had already been taken away. All that was left out there was one of those giant exercise balls that you're supposed to use to improve your posture and work your abs harder. And since this was a lengthy phone conversation, it made complete sense for her to sit on the ball.

But let's recall for a moment that she is not the most coordinated of gals. For a few seconds, it was smooth sailing. I was sitting on the couch with our friend Andrew and out of the corner of my eye I see disaster striking.

NOT ONLY does she fall off the ball, she manages this epic flip and roll thing that lands [no pun intended] her flat on her back, not sure if she should laugh or cry. But laugh she does. Which is good cause it was hilarious. I don't think I've seen a fall that intense since Keri Strugg in 1996.

But still, the best is yet to come. Because she just goes on about her phone conversation like nothing is amiss. And when she was done jabbering, she came back inside to show us her battle scar....rugburn to the knee. It's pretty sexy. And still hilarious.

The One Where Emzy the Pirate Fell with her Chair

I feel that I really must explain the picture I chose to be the heading block for this blog. This whole incident was kind of a turning point in my realization that nothing that happens while Emzy is around is even close to normal. First of all, she's a bit of a klutz and she falls and/or randomly injures herself a lot. But Emzy falls are anything but quick incidents. They usually turn into several-minutes-long situations that leave everyone in fits of hysterical laughter so bad they occasionally lose control of bodily functions.

So let me give the back story on the photo. One year at camp (camp is Emzy's full time job, and was my summer job for six years), there was a pirate-themed banquet at the end of one of the sessions. We got seriously into the theme.

As you can see by this photo of Emzy with Darren, the Sports & Games guy, everybody kind of went to extremes with drawn-on tattoos, mascara-painted facial hair, and ripping of their clothes. It was pretty sweet!

Anyway, while the festivities were winding down, I was in my office with one of my assistants and his fiance writing refund checks to all the campers for their unused spending money. We heard the front door of the office open and a few seconds later we heard this loud crash followed by Emzy saying, "Guys?.......Guys?.......Can I get a little help here?"

So we go in to her office and see exactly what you see in the photo at the top of the page. So of course we crack up and grab a camera before helping her up. But the helping her up was the funniest part. See, if anyone else had tipped over in his or her chair, it would have been no problem just to stand up.

But remember, we're talking about Emzy here. And she is the exception to every rule. Not only did she fall with her chair, she managed to get the chair stuck between the mini fridge where we stashed cokes and chocolate and the desk's tabletop. It took us about five minutes just to figure out how to get her unstuck and we still to this day have no idea how she actually got stuck in the first place.

But hopefully now you see what I mean when I say normal things don't happen when Emzy is involved.

The One Where Emzy Got a Baby Sister

For a little over three years, Emily Jane went happily about her daily life. She lived in Newmarket, England - just outside Cambridge. She was the product of two doting parents and, as far as the lives of toddlers go, she was pretty much set.

When she found out she was getting a baby brother or sister, it really didn't phase her that much. Her only request was to have a black baby boy like the black next door neighbors just brought home. She didn't understand that it wasn't exactly possible since neither her mother or father were black. Her grandparents from the USA sent her a black baby doll to help with the situation. See? She really was set...she got whatever she wanted.

And then I was born. Eight pounds, fourteen ounces of squishy pink baby girl and a head full of dark brown hair. Not exactly what she wanted, but I would just have to do.

[circa 1985...can't you see the disappointment with my girly whiteness in her face?]

And so began the past 26 years of being a big sister.

During this time we have been best friends and bitter enemies. We've laughed more than we've cried. We've been each other's cheerleader and we've cut each other so deep, the way only sisters can. But we've managed to survive growing up together and our lives remain intertwined. So much so that rarely does an hour pass by when we aren't communicating in some way.

I know I'm not the baby sister she wanted. But I'm the one she got. And if I've learned one thing from our years together, it's that nobody is safe when she's around. You see, no matter how remotely involved she is in a situation, something absolutely ridiculously random, awkward, funny, or outrageous is bound to happen. So I feel it is only fair that I repay her for all the "dirt and dandelion soup" she fed me as a kid by sharing those situations with the world.

I hope you enjoy reading about my Life with Emzy.