for the love

Friday night I was standing in a gift shop at the Nashville airport, skimming the travel-ready packages of candy, making sure I didn't need anything else to accommodate my 1 hour and 40 minute flight to Tampa. My eyes locked on a bag of gummy worms and I was immediately transported to a Christmas long ago.... Abilene, TX: circa 1985 -- We were about to take a very long road trip to Fairfax VA to visit my mom's side of the family for Christmas. As my sister and I crawled into the backseat of our maroon Oldsmobile we found early Christmas presents sitting where we would soon be trapped. We unwrapped them in unison finding our parent's answer to hours of captivity and small-space confinement. A bribe to keep us quiet, yes; but as I recall it worked. For to each one of us was given a personal cassette tape player with headphones. We listened to Chistmas tape after Christmas tape. Over and over again. We had one tape in particular that I remember. It was A Country Christmas. Voi

This article, posted by the Associate Press and MSNBC, just made me chuckle. Aside from its obviously pointless and outlandish propogand-ish subject matter (which I won't even bother to dissect), the very first line is, at the very least, thought provokingly... ridiculous. I'm no genius when it comes to numbers and especially fractions. So would somebody please correct me if this sentence has even a lick of of mathmatical logic? Please keep in mind, answers suggesting people in terms of fractions will not be accepted. "NEW YORK - More than nine out of 10 Americans, men and women alike, have had premarital sex, according to a new study." Sigh.... Rolls eyes. Goes straight to blogger to blog about it. Kids, read it but don't look to much into it. It's just your friendly AP at it again.

Have you ever had to tell someone you lied to them? Late last week during an extremeley stressful day at work, my client asked me a simple question, and because I did not like the way the truth would make me look, I lied. It was a ridiculous thing to do, such a small, seemingly non-threatening little white lie. The truth was not even so bad. I could have smoothed it over in the same breath if I had just had an ounce of integrity in the moment. But I lied. I kept thinking it wasn't so bad. That I would forget about it, and God would forgive me, and it would all be ok. But I couldn't forget about. It plagued me. All weekend long. I had not felt that way in years. Even in guilt, I could not imagine actually fessing up to the person whose eyes I had looked into and blatantly lied to. I kept thinking, I don't really have to tell them...do I? God will still forgive me, and I can move on from this, repent and never do it again without confessing...right? Something kept telling me

Please. No Smoothie King for Christmas. I'm over it. Dear Smoothie King, You smother me with your protein-powered, chocolate turbinado, frozen smoothiness. Let's just take a break....re-evaluate our relationship. Don't worry. I'll think of you often (maybe a little too often at first.) I still think you're great. I will speak well of you to my friends. I would really appreciate it if we could be on good terms. Besides, I'm sure we'll reconnect one day. When we least expect it. When the present nausea wears off. We're just not on the same page right now. You say, 'chewing is over-rated'. I say, 'my teeth miss chewing'. It's not you. It's me. Well, it might be you a little bit. That's kind of the point, no? Until we meet again, Emily

The City Paper published an article this past week about the current E. Coli scare running nationwide through Taco Bells. I'd like to quote a quote: "A preliminary test of three samples of green onions found them to be "presumptive" positive for E. Coli O157:H7, the Irvine, California-based unit of Yum! Brands Inc . said in a statement Wednesday." Yum! Brands Inc. ? ! Yum!? Hmm. I will refrain from taking a poll. Even though I'm just dying to state the obvious.

Anybody got a book recommendation for me?? It's been a while since I was addicted to a good book (see post on My Sister's Keeper for an accurate dating of the last occurance). I don't have a specific favorite genre. It just has to be addicting. The kind that you can't put down. The kind, when you do put it down because you have to do things like, umm, go to work, you can't stop thinking about it. The kind that begins to feel like the best friend you never had and you can't wait to pick it up again. The kind that calls your name while your at work, and you bring it to work with you just so you can be near it and maybe read it on your lunch break and then you find yourself reading it at your desk anyways because you swear you'll only read like the first sentence....or page...or chapter. And then the President makes a surprise visit from around the corner and you're OH NO! Busted. And before you know it you're recommending it to her and she's all l

Last night I was reading The Tennessean while waiting for my Crispani to bake at Panera. There was an article about how the city of Juneau is afraid they're going to lose their 'capital' status. Due to the fact that Juneau is ranked the most geographically inaccessible capital of all the fifty states, especially during inclement weather (which, let's face it, when is Alaska NOT having inclement weather?) the new governor decided she was going to be inaugurated somewhere she could actually physically get to, as opposed to the traditional site of the state capital. Needless to say, this threw Juneau into a tizzy. "This is just the beginning," said the dissed capital. "Before you know it, we'll be out." **these are not exact quotes, by the way. What is an exact quote, and the part that made me unexpectedly and audibly laugh to myself in a room full of strangers was said by a local Alaskan lawyer consulted in the matter, "Juneau is pretty neurot

Have you ever spent an hour typing a new post, and then blogger "loses" it before it publishes? So yes, it's been a whole month to the day since I last posted. "Shout out" to all you kind folks who have been begging for my return :) Here's a quick run down of some new and exciting developments, with a bonus feature of 6 weird things about me. Purely by request of course. Ellyn, my cousin, tagged me. I don't think I would just decide to post six weird things about myself out of no where. I'm not that bored. Or weird. So in keeping with the 'list' theme, I will just list what I've been up to, and maybe a few random observations. 1. My church is planning a mission trip to Panama next summer. I am so there. 2. I will be taking Spanish at the Nashville School of Preaching next semester. It is free! Last time I was in Honduras I had a lot of fun learning bits of the language. I decided I would learn more if I ever went back to a spanish speakin

My favorite nephew in the whole world has officially been in my life for 2 years. He has unknowingly filled these last 2 years with fun, comedy, amazement, laughter, pride, purpose, and meaning. I'm so glad he's here and that he knows me and loves me and trusts me. Life is blessed. Happy Birthday Boo-Bear!! Love, Money

This morning, my iPod played this song for me. My iPod has been playing this for me quite frequently. Weird considering it's on 'shuffle'. For some reason, my iPod likes this song. For some reason, I like this song. I have a special affinity for songs that reference Jesus and the Bible written by people who don't profess to be Christians (another great one is Dave Matthews' "A Christmas Song"). It's always interesting to see these figures from a secular point of view. I googled the lyrics this morning, because Alanis is Canadian :-p Some of the most important words were not what I previously thought they were. And now I like it even more. Disclaimer: I don't pretend to understand this song completely (especially the origin of the title), but I really like that it makes me think. Any intuitive comments about the meaning of this song will be rewarded with great awe. Side note: all the "90's" references, I think, are meant to convey &qu

It's articles like this that support my suspicion that the NFL is well on it's way to becoming the WWWF. i lerve it. Oh yah, and this one. (don't lerve it so much)

Monday night I was invited to a birthday party for Tuesday night. I was asked to bring some kind of homemade food. After a long deliberation, I decided I would bring Campbell's Butternut Squash soup (pre-made and just heat it up). After a longer deliberation I decided that would be cheating. So I googled some butternut squash recipes and found that Campbell's had a fairly simple looking recipe on their website. By the way, when I told the host what I was bringing, she said, "oh so totally righteous!" Man, I better not let HER down! So Tuesday morning I called my sister and asked her if I could use her kitchen (cuz she has more & better cooking utensils than I), and her help (cuz she is a way more experienced cook than I). I went to Kroger on my lunch hour to gather the ingredients and read over the recipe a few times to make sure I understood. I got to my sister's house at about 5:15 - 1 hour and 15 minutes until party time. Luckily, the party house was just r

I have joined the ranks of ipod owners. I pod, you pod, we all pod. For Ipod. That doesn't even make sense. It was fate really that brought us together. My ipod and I (myPod). I had been thinking about getting one for several weeks. Finally one day, I went over to my sister's house with plans to prod my ipod-owning brother-in-law for ipod information while I was there. What's available to a consumer girl like me? How much should I spend? What should I expect it to do? Can I get one that does this, this, and that? Do I have to feed it? All he needed to say was this, "do you want to buy mine? I just put it up on ebay, but I can take it down and give you the sister-in-law price". What's the sister-in-law price, and duh, YES. I hear that $75.80 is a righteous deal on one of these things. Not to mention that he threw in the car transmittor thingy, about 200 songs I LOVE, and bonus iTunes training. Sweet. Have I ever mentioned it's good to have family? And an ip

Dear Snappy Auctions in Brentwood , Hey, how are you? What? Business not doing so good lately? That's weird...I wonder why? It's not like you just take any item off the street or just any ol' thing that every weirdo brings in for you to post on Ebay. No....you are picky. You have an elite sense of sales. I really thought you'd go far. By the way, that laptop I brought to you to sell......the one you kept for two weeks and never attempted to post......the one you said no one would buy......I just wanted to thank you for not taking the time to help me. Because now I get to keep all $164.30 that it went for yesterday on Ebay. Hey, it may not be A LOT, a but that's $164 bucks I didn't have 12 hours ago, as well as a percentage of sales you'll never see. Oh well. That's the breaks I guess. Good luck with all the turnin' away of weirdos and their worthless junk. Hang in there...it's going to have a big pay-off one of these days. For them. One Weirdo Yo

It's my anniversary. With Nashville. Five years ago today I set out from Tampa FL in my Honda Civic crammed full of my most prized posessions, my mom riding shotgun, and a star in my eye (I can't believe I just typed that). We headed north to the deep south. Destination = new life. We arrived late the next night. We were greeted by my 1 1/2 year old niece, my sister three years my senior (even still to this day! some things never change...), her husband - the brother I never had, and a home-made poster that said "Welcome to Nashville". I still have that poster. They lived in a tiny 2 bedroom condo in Green Hills. I lived in the attic. For 4 months. It's good to have family. I really love this city. I hope it loves me. Dear Nashville, Thanks for being my home over the last 5 years. Maybe you'll let me stay a little while longer? We've had our ups and downs. Remember when I first got here and I knocked on your door and you were all like, "who's ther

After months and month of teaching, prodding, and repeating my name to my little nephew, he finally caught on a month or so ago. He calls me 'Money'. It's as close as he could come to the traditional phonetic pronunciation of my name 'eh-muh-lee'. I think it's cute. As far as I'm concerned he can call me Money for the rest of my life. Sometimes it sounds like Many, and lately he's been going back and forth between Many and Emy. Whichever. Nephew: Money? Aunt: Yes, boo-bear? Nephew: {toddler-ese babble mixed with giggles} Aunt: Yes. Aunt: what are you drinking there, boo-bear? Nephew: chicken. Nephew: Money...? Aunt: yes boo-bear? Nephew: {toddler-ese babble} cow poo-pa! Aunt: yes buddy, we saw the horse eating the popsicle in the movie. Nephew: heheheHA! Aunt: hey boo-bear, deal or no deal? Nephew: NO DEAL! Kids are fun. Except when they bite.

Just so you know, I will probably be eating at least one, if not two hotdogs for lunch at least once a week for the next couple of months. We'll start at the beginning. I'm taking this photography class right now - B/W I at Nashville State community college. By far, the most challanging part of the darkroom (at least for me) is getting the leader of the film onto the developing reel in total darkness. Then, assuming I pass challange One, it takes another 20-30 minutes to develop, wash, and dry said roll of film. Considering we are shooting at minimum one roll per week, developing all rolls, printing contacts, and then ultimately coming out with perfectly contrasted & beautifully printed photographs. Nutshell: This is a lot of work. So last week, while our teacher is demonstrating how to be an artful dodger & burner, I am secretly entertaining the relieving thought of quitting this class. I missed one class earlier this semester and that alone has set me behind. I am ove

Attention all philanthropists. This may be late notice, but in case you are free this weekend and happen to be looking for something you can do to support your community and is also fun for the whole family (was that too much?), then come on out to Edwin Warner Park on Saturday 10/7 to hike for the homeless. This event is sponsored by and for Nashville's Safe Haven Family Shelter - the only homeless shelter in Nashville that keeps entire families together as a unit while they provide them with the tools they need to return to self-sufficiency. Their mission is to empower homeless families with children to live independently through spiritual, financial and social guidance. Children of these families get to stay in school while their parents get the aid, training, and resources they need to find jobs and affordable housing. Safe Haven family shelter has a family turnaround rate of 30-45 days! This is key because not only is this rate in the best interest of each family (to not becom

Q: What does a girl do when she blows her weekend on junk food and no exercise? A: Monday night kamikaze workout On kamikaze Monday, Emily gets no coffee. Boooo. I get to the gym at 5:30 pm. 17 minute warm up on the treadmill (2 minutes running flat at 6.3, minutes 3-8 running up steadily increasing incline, minutes 8-10 running flat at steadily decreasing pace. Minutes 11-17 walking at steadily decreasing pace. Stretch. Yawn. 10 minutes on free weights. 10 minutes jumping rope. Make that about 9 1/2 minutes jumping rope, 30 seconds total combined effort to untangle myself from tripping over rope. Stop, start, stop, start, stop, start, I am a terrible jump roper. 10 minutes abs. 60 minutes kickboxing. Now this may not seem like much of a suicide mission to some of you out there. But I rarely multi-task at the gym. Overall I would say the experience was a good one. Something I may repeat in the future. Bottom line: I just don't have time to work out this much on a regular basis. I l

by Jodi Picoult In my first memory, I am three years old and I am trying to kill my sister. Sometimes the recollecton is so clear I can remember the itch of the pillowcase under my hand, the sharp point of her nose pressing into my palm. She didn't stand a chance against me, of course, but it still didn't work. My father walked by, tucking in the house for the night, and saved her. He led me back to my own bed. "That," he told me, "never happened." As we got older, I didn't seem to exist, except in relation to her. I would watch her sleep across the room from me, one long shadow linking our beds, and I would count the ways. Poison, sprinkled on her cereal. A wicked undertow off the beach. Lightning striking. In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own. Or at least this is what I tell myself. That is the first page of the book. If you want to read the rest, you'll have to go to the bookstore, or the library, or borrow it fr

I was told ( in not so many words) that while it is ok for me to have a blog just like my sister (and the rest of the free world), it is NOT ok for me to use the same format. Thus I have complied. I don't want to bust up the order of things here (since I'm new and all). Dont'cha just hate when the new kid comes in and tries to run the show? I'm not like that. Book review coming soon.

So, yah... welcome me to the bandwagon that is blogging. I went and did it. I couldn't help it! I assume that once I post a comment to my sister's latest entry (it has to be done today, I just cannot let her post go without completing it with comments from me), this cat will jump out of her bag. Look, I used to be a closet-blogger. It's all true. I had one reader (that I know of) who could have exposed me for the shameful deciept I was sowing; and yet she kindly deferred her right to blab and became my closet-blogging enabler. If any of you were closet-reading my closet-blog, you better come clean now. This is a call to repentence . On a less serious note, let's get this party started. I will not promise to post frequently. I will not promise to post anything you are interested in reading. I will not promise to say anything important. I will not promise anything short of this: I promise that what I say here was written by me because I wanted to write it, and I thought

I added cinnamon to my Saturday morning M&M pancakes I have When Harry Met Sally playing while I do my Saturday morning chores I will finally pull out all of my fall decorations (I wanted to do this last weekend, but I made myself wait) Other things I can't wait to do this season: Have caramel apple cider from Starbucks Hike at Radnor Lake Go to Gentry's Farm with my niece and nephew Have some of my sister's chili, caramel apple pie, and pumpkin bread celebrate Thanksgiving Sometimes I think I should be worried about my psyche for loving fall so much. After all, it is the season of dying in way. All of the leaves die and fall off the trees. The air gets colder. It's starts getting darker earlier. It reminds me of dusk. The way the day starts to wind down. The way it all begins to end. Which, ironically (?) is my favorite time of day. I think it should say something about a person - what their favorite season or time of day is. Morning people are spring people. After

I don't remember when I finally stopped looking up to the sky at airplanes flying overhead and wondering if it was headed for a building. I just know that at some point I did. Those days, it felt like things would never be the same. It felt like I'd never look at an airplane the same way again. I remember the first anniversary. I was driving to work and listening to the radio. They were having a moment of silence at 8:46. At that moment I saw a commercial plane fly overhead. I remember thinking, "God bless 'em - they are so brave." Today I flew from Tampa to Nashville on Southwest. It was fairly non-eventful. And I was thankful. We never know what each day will bring us. Whether safety or tragedy or status quo. But I do remember a very specific thought I had on the evening of 9/10/01. It was sunset and I was walking with my mom. I was wondering about my future and how things would work out. I was tempted to worry. To have anxiety over a new chapter in my life. I w

and it was worth it. On Sunday, Debbie and I drove from Columbia MD to New York, NY. Google said it would only take 3 1/2 hours. Google failed to mention the burning SUV on 95 that increased our drive time by 35 minutes, or the 6 toll booths = roughly 28 dollars in cash = all that I happen to have on me, that we would encounter along the way. I exclaimed, "who knew?!", to which Debbie turned and said with only her expression, "I did." Oh well, we got there in 4 hours. We picked up a homeless man under the bridge after the Lincoln Tunnel. No. We picked up Grant. But yes he was hanging out under the bridge. He would have been right outside the tunnel had a cop not approached him to "move along sir." We had dinner at Bone Lick BBQ on Greenwich. It was gerd (exremley good). You must pay the extra dollar to have mac/cheese as your side. You will not be disappointed. You will not want or need your dollar back. You might even feel compelled to give them another

you know the things that I am a afraid of I'm not afraid to tell. And if we if ever leave a legacy it's that we loved each other well. - Indigo Girls, Power of Two I've always loved that line from this song. I love the whole song, but that line always sounded like it was being sung louder than the rest of the song. I never got to thinking much about legacies before my two grandmothers died this year on the same day in March. Many people expressed their sympathies, and each & every time someone did, the best and only thing I could tell them was "it's really a good thing". A lot of people didn't understand that, but then they didn't know my grandmothers. Different in every personality trait, they held two virtues in common. They did not hold fast to this world as their treasure, but always hoped for the better life to come. And they loved their families indescribably. Now I understand this legacy. I suppose too, that as I grow older and move into new

I have one of those "page a day" calandars - you know the ones that you sit on your desk and tear off a page every day. Mine is the Miriam Webster's 365 New Words Calandar. On Saturday, August 12 (I am behind on tearing off my pages this week). blog \blog\ n : a Web site that contains an online personal journal with reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks provided by the writer Chris uses her blog to write about being a single mother and invites readers to share their experiences. DID YOU KNOW? The history of "blog" is as old as the seas. Since the days of three-masted merchant ships, captains have been recording voyage details in logs. In more recent times people began exploring the vast seas of the Internet, and the term "Web log" was born. At first a Web log was a file that recorded requests made to a Web server, but the term soon sailed off in a new direction. People started writing online journals and dubbed them "Web logs", though t

My six year old niece is becoming quite interested in the furtherment of my love life. Fortunately, she already has some pretty liberal expectations. Niece: Emily, when are you going to get a husband? Aunt: When are you going to get a husband? Niece: Umm...in thirty years! Aunt: Good, then I still have some time. Niece: yeah. My hope for her is that she does not grow up thinking she has to be married by the age of 22. My hope for her is that she, like me, will have ample time to enjoy the single life and develop a rock-solid sense of self. (I, by the way, am still working on that rock-solid part, but it's coming along nicely.) My hope for her is that she will pursue education, personal interests, relationships, vocation, and spirituality, and allow the course of her life to be led by the will of God. My hope for me is that I will marry before she does.

It's official. August is here. August is my least favorite month of the year. I'm really not that picky or discriminating in general, but I have always disliked August. Sorry month #8. Here are few reasons why you bug me: 1. Summer is my least favorite season. You are the last full month of this season, and usually, but the time you roll around, I am tired of the heat, humidity and sun burns that summer brings. Summer is stale by August. 2. Fall is my favorite season of the year. By August, I am tired of summer and want fall! But alas! I still have a month and a half to go before the cool winds of autumn sweep in to relieve me. Hurry up Fall!! 3. As a child, August meant "back to school". I was a fairly normal child in the sense that I was not happy to be returning to the early mornings, overly structured classes ruled by overly anal instructors, homework and tests. 4. Referring to #1 & 2, August has always represented to me an interim between two things that I wi

"We French are not as fiendish about finding shortcuts as Americans are. Perhaps it is why we are no longer a great world power, but the trade-off is that we are not fat." - Mireille Guiliano French Women Don't Get Fat

In a world where there are cat-people and dog-people, I am the latter-people. I love dogs, but my present living situation is not conducive to nurturing a loving canine relationship. So what's a dog-loving girl to do? She loves other people's dogs when they are out of town. No, I am not a dog-stalker. I am a dog-sitter. I don't lie in wait under the backyard deck waiting to hear the garage door open and close, and then rush the backdoor for a glimpse, yeh, a rendez-vous with another families' dog. No (even though that probably sounded creepily possible), people actually pay me to watch, water, and walk their dogs while they skip town to do things like Nascar races, in-law visiting, summer vaca and the such. Be not misinformed, this is not my full-time job. It's not even a hobby. I like to think of it as my personal service to the dogs of the world and their families. I would do it for free, but they keep paying me. My latest gig was sweet. I got to stay in the coupl

A few months ago I was stopped at a red light on White Bridge Road. I looked to my left and read the Walgreens marquee that advertises daily specials. It said this: Chicken Poop $2.99 It's all true. Although I was alone in my car, unable to share this hysterical mystery with anyone save the strangers in their cars surrounding me, I laughed out loud anyways. I immediately thought that some punk high school kid making minimum wage at Walgreens intentionally sabotaged the marquee in order to 1) get fired because he hated his boss and 2) wanted to humiliate his boss by making him publicly remove a sign that his punk ex-employee put up. When I heard the real story, I felt remorse, yet surprisingly pleased, at my ability to make up such detailed imaginary incident. Two days later this sign made the local evening news. The explanation was much better than my fantasy. Chicken Poop turned out to be chap stick. $2.99 chap stick. The woman who invented and marketed it grew up on a farm and na

My job revolves around customer service. Everything I do is for my customers. Every form I complete, every paycheck I cut, every bill I audit, every report I run, is for the convenience of my customers. We have an endearing flaw at work that "we don't know how to say no". We spend 40+ hours each week making sure our clients are happy, satisfied, and coming back for more. I think it's because I work so hard at this, that I recognize instantly when, as a customer, I am getting a bum deal, being lied to, or worse, not being treated like my business matters. From time to time I may feel compelled to write about the unbelievable treatment I recieve as a customer (good or bad). Watch out Nashville, I'm taking names. Computers Rx Specialists - Franklin Rd, Brentwood These kids may know how to fix computers (I wouldn't know - they couldn't do anything for mine in 3 weeks), but they definitely have no idea how to treat their customers. I was told I would be called

Traditionally speaking (in my own personal opinion of course) I smell summer when I get a whiff of freshly cut grass. Today I'd like to induct a few more favorite smells that for me will always = summer. 1. Honeysuckle. One thing many people probably do not know about me (because I do not tell many people) is that as a child I had a habit of eating flowers. I cannot explain why I did this, only that I remember seeing a beautiful and rather large white flower growing in our backyard in Texas, and I got hungry. I plucked a petal off, put it in my mouth, and chewed. It was good. And then I ate the rest of it. Afterwards, I remember feeling distinctly immoral about the whole affair, and decided I should not do it again. But do it again I did. My best friend lived about 4 houses down from me and I would often walk down there in the summer time and we would play in the ally or in one of our backyards, or one of our rooms. On one particular day I remember being at her house and knowing t

My sister started blogging a little more than a year ago. I started reading it about 4 or 5 months after she started. I didn't even know what a blog was, let alone that she could write html. That was just one of the first things that her blog taught me about her. Over time I began to read her updates daily, and I looked forward to the stories she would tell and the pictures she would post about her kids - my niece and nephew. I also learned many other things about her that I just never knew or considered about my big sister of 28 years. Like her views on politics, Christianity, the growth of her faith, her favorite things, things she hates, and so on and so forth. For me, her blog has been a portal into her life that I had never entered before. Maybe I should say here that she only lives one mile away from me. And I see her and the kids almost every other day. And yet that speaks to the breakdown in communication that I either never knew existed, or I had just become comfortable wi