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!