I work for UPS

And as my brother and I drive around (he drives and I run the packages to your doors) I see a lot of houses. There are a lot of neat houses in Lehi, UT. A lot of dogs, too. I hate little dogs. I have such an itch to kick them but I don't do it. Even though I don't wear a uniform since the one they ordered for me was so way too big, I represent UPS and I just can't kick the dogs.

I see a lot of Christmas decorations, too. What's with the inflatable snowmen, polar bears, penguins, santas, grinches and now snow globes? I noticed them the first time 3 or 4 years ago and I thought they were stupid and ugly then and I'm disappointed to see more as years pass. When morning comes they're crumpled and airless on the deadish grass. I've nearly killed myself on the little ropes they are staked down with as I deliver packages. (Working for UPS as a driver helper takes precise skills and muscles, just like I have. That's why I have the job. It's a rare job; only three weeks out of the year can anyone be a driver helper. And not just anyone, remember. You must have surprising agility and near anti-gravity balance. I haven't fallen (I'm not going to put 'yet') and today I even balanced 1 of 4 packages on my head from the truck to the door step. Surely you see what I mean, you must be a rare, lucky specimen to be a UPS driver helper).

Well, today, as I was working hard, sitting in the jump seat as my brother drove like a maniac I saw someone who took lazy too far. I'm lazy and understand most laziness, but this is just....unforgivable. All I'm going to say is: this home had in its front window, insufficiently (half-should-have-been-whole-ly) hidden by curtains, an inflatable Christmas tree. I can't express to you my disappointment, so I won't try.

Your Thoughts, If You Please

You can only know something if it's true.

Happy Thanksgiving

I'm grateful to live on Cherokee lane. Indians and Pilgrims started this whole tradition, so at my house in Indian Hills, Thanksgiving is the real thing. We pretend like we're Pilgrims, dress up with bonnets and belt buckles and boots and toss our turkey bones to the dogs....I really have nothing to write. I'm babbling. But lots of people might have thankful posts this day on their blogs and I'm just joining the band wagon. I played clarinet in Jr High, so I can join.... I'm thankful for my life and evertything in it. Seriously. I've met wonderful people and challenges that are just right for me. I love to live.

Entering the elevator was like limping nose first into a sweaty armpit.

I'm tired. When I get tired I tend to cease making much sense. I also get irritated. Sometimes when I'm irritated I get mean. This is a shout out to mean people: you irritate me and you deserve it.

Love is to Heart as Water is to _________

You take the balloon. You put some water in the balloon. Pinch the opening tight so it doesn't leak. Unexpectedly the balloon is knocked from your hands and water spills bitterly down your clean pants, assuming you're wearing pants.

You retrieve the balloon. It hangs limp, stretched by the water now on your pants. You come to another faucet a while later that is better than the first and put some water back in the balloon. Your pants are dry and the balloon can fit a lot more water this time.

etc. And one day, another faucet comes along and refills again your sagging balloon and then yanks it from your hands and ties the end in a knot. Just when you think this is the glorious moment for your weary balloon, the faucet hurls it to the ground and it bursts all over your shoes.

You leave the balloon in pieces. You pull a new balloon out of your hat. It's a stronger one, a bigger one, a bluer one.

Water fight.

Real Life is Too Much

I got home from working out probably too hard and fast and I changed my clothes. My sister called out to me, "Emily, I have something to show you." I followed after her but stayed in the kitchen as she went to the garage and rummaged through an apple box. She pulled out two brown, long things and the first thing that came to my mind was yams. I thought she had some prize long, skinny yams she wanted to show me. Random, yes, but nothing could prepare me for the shock as she cried out "Deer legs!" like we were starving castaways about to stew the last of Earth's protein. She held them into the light so I could quease better -- er, uh see better and recounted the where-the-red-fern-grows story of a disemboweled deer running around BYU campus, adding emphasis when needed with hoof motions as her hands were correspondingly occupied. The severed tendons would bulge in and out of the fur as the hoof hopelessly waved at me, a motion like an unconscious drunk on a rollercoaster. At one point, fascinated with her own strange luck at being the recipient of two deer legs, she clicked the exposed bones together and said too honestly, "Em, when I watched them saw the head off I almost lost it." All I could do was hyperventilate and hold the bridge of my nose. Give me a break! I just worked out. Imagine what could be done with two legs of a deer...nightmares tonight

Timberrrrrr

So, I was working out at 24hour fitness (I'm thinking of joining) and I ran into a famous person's friend. Well, this man didn't run into me, he came up to me as I was working my hamstrings, we'll call him Jan (with a German pronunciation so it sounds like "Yawn" but stiffer, ya know, cuz the Germans are stiff--and I can say that, I've been there). Jan, who is not German (...well, we never got around to discussing tribes), seemed like a jolly good chap and his opening line was not, "I'm the friend of a famous person," it was, "How tall are you?" I don't know which I'd prefer as an opening line, but I've heard the latter much more often than the former. Anyway, His famous friend is an NBA star that recently injured his wrist, so I hear. Since I'm "about 6'2" without the shoes" (I was wearing Z-CoiLs when I replied to his opening line) he figured I'm a perfect match for his famous buddy we'll call Clark. I've never seriously dated a guy under 6'2" so I guess I've been lucky to find some tall ones, or have some tall one's buddy find me working out at the gym.

So, Jan was on the left side of the machine and an old guy was at the leg machine to the right. The old man had spied my shoes moments before Jan's arrival and started flirtin with me. Clark already has competition. Anyway, after the arrival of Jan, the old man returned and repeated what he'd overheard, "You're going on a mission?" I'd told Jan, because it was true. I told the old man it was true. I turn in the papers tomorrow and so I hope that means I'll be getting a call sometime soon. I'll let you all know, of course. I don't think the old man will ever find out where I get called to. Who knows, maybe I'll see him at the gym again. I've derailed if ever there was a sensible track I was on.....oh well, really not much to say anyway. ta ta

If I

If I were a spider I wouldn't last long. Instead of a web, I'd spin a hammock and gently sway life away.

24 hour spot in the universe

Today I took my sister to the airport and went to my mom's shoe store. She likes me to work there when my sister (who's really the only one that knows what to do) and my uncle and my other sister and she and my dad can't. I'm definitely the last resort as employee. In fact, I don't know why she even lets me go in there as she basically fired me from there two summers ago. She got complaints from customers that the service was crappy and unprofessional. Then as I remind her that I'm worthless to her in this capacity, she says something like, "well, we all have to do things we don't want to and maybe you've gotten better...." Well, I thought I was doing just fine when, according to these customers, I was no better than a cardboard cutout. But guess what? I sold a pair of shoes. They're Z-CoiL shoes. They're very neat. Go to www.zcoil.com if you don't believe me. They work! I've got some myself. Very nice for running, standing, walking, etc. Nurses, you'll love them.

Also today I got a job as a substitute teacher. That's something I've never been before. I'm excited.

Last night I got hot under my covers so I kicked and pulled my p.j. bottoms off. For the life of me, I could not find them when I woke up. I tore my bed apart and looked through all the dirty and clean-ish laundry all over my floor and still no luck. I looked under the bed and found a plastic sandwich bag full of raw almonds.... I was in Alaska for five months, don't ask me how they got there. Anyway, when I went to get dressed to go running I redoubled my efforts in the search for the great white bottoms (p.j. bottoms, remember) and I lifted the big, deliciously soft body pillow on my bed and voila (is that how you spell that?) there they were. So, with a white shirt, dern white skin and white Z-CoiL Freedom 2000s now added to my white pants, I looked like a great white candy cane ready for a lickin! But who really got the licking was the spider I saw on my ceiling right before I left to go running.

I'm a murder, yes. If they infiltrate my habitat, they die. That's all there is to it. They've always been portrayed as evil and dangerous, and they startle me every time I see one. So, mostly for being so unfairly startling for their size is why they meet their death when they meet me. I know. It's so unfair.

I Love You

(you know who you are)