Remember that time the SWAT team kicked us out of our apartment?

It was our last day living at our apartment.  We'd been steadily moving out all week and we'd reserved that day to completely clear it out and clean.  Living in South Salt Lake, you're used to seeing cops around because you know at least a few of your neighbors are doing something shady, so when Soren started hauling boxes that morning and saw four cops walking our way, he wasn't too alarmed.  His next trip of boxes, he noticed the cops were pulling out fire arms and one was loading a large shotgun.  I was stuffing things in boxes in the apartment when Soren stuck his head through the door in awe and excitement:

"Em, something's going DOWN!  There are four cops out there with big guns!"

I was in moving mode, and I was living in South Salt Lake, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Huh. I wonder who it is?"  Secretly, I wanted it to be our next door neighbor in Apartment X because of his smoking habit and how he stunk up the whole building (which was a non-smoking building, I'll have you know), but it wasn't.

Soren headed back out with another load.  He was gone a long time.  I figured he was chatting up some of the neighbors, and continued with my packing frenzy.  A few minutes later my phone started to ring.  I looked at it and thought, "Really Soren?  You'll calling me from the parking lot?  Is this what cell phones have reduced us to?"  But I picked it up anyway because I love him.

"What's up?"

"Hey, you need to close the front door, turn off the ipod, and climb out the window."

"What?"

"Where are you in the apartment?  I can't see you right now.  I'm looking through the bedroom window."

"I'm in the living room."

"Okay, well shut the front door, turn off the ipod, and come climb out the window."

"Oh...okay."

I trembled a little as I walked to the front door to close and lock it.  I expected some wild criminal to come running through our apartment, waving a gun around his head.  This did not happen.  My heart was pounding a little as I moved from the front door to turn off the ipod.  Soren helped me shimmy through the window where I saw Juliet O'Hara standing by with her firearm.  She escorted us around the building.

--- this is Soren typing now. ;)
When I came out with my last load I was greeted by four policemen leveling their guns at my head. I'd never had a loaded gun pointed at me before. It was an interesting experience. It was kind of like the experience having the principle's office call me out of class. "Did I do something wrong? Maybe I did do something... What was it?..." But instead of having those thoughts go through my head while walking down the hall, they were concentrated into a split second.  They quickly realized I was not "their man," they lowered their weapons, and motioned for me to get out of the way.  They asked if anyone was still in the apartment, and told me to call Emily and have her climb out the window.

(Back to Emily)

Following this bit of excitement, we went and got lunch.  So here's what was going on:  the man in the apartment directly across from us, Apartment Y, was resisting arrest, and had locked himself up in his apartment, and the cops were trying to get him out.  We hoped the affair would conclude quickly so that we could get back to moving.

After eating some delicious Iceberg french fries and one of their giant shakes, we went back to the apartment.  The police were still staking it out, so we decided to stake them out.  We sat in the back seat of my dad's truck, Soren was studying for his final, and I was trying to over hear what the police were saying.  One of the cops was on the phone, and was meandering about as he talked.  As he neared us, we silenced ourselves and listened:

"Listen, I'm a man just like you are a man.  No...yeah...I understand that...I understand that.... I want to believe you, but I can't unless you come out here and talk to me.  You do know what I'm talking about.  I can't tell if you're lying to me unless I can look you in the face...."

Soren and I looked at each other:  we were totally listening to a police negotiator.  It was a long conversation and eventually Soren had to leave to go take his last final.  I sat around in the truck, hoping to catch some more action.  It was pretty quiet though, and after a while, they let me climb back through the window into our apartment to continue packing.

I was able to get a decent amount done and then Soren came and joined me, but pretty soon the police approached him again and said they were starting to evacuate the area so that they could "do what they gotta do."

We took a trip to the storage unit, and were kind of bummed about it because we figured we would probably miss the big show down.  After all that build up, we wanted to see the police take the guy down.  But as we rounded the corner to go back to the apartment, we realized we hadn't missed anything.

There were 5 or six more cop cars, an ambulance, a fire truck, two RVs, a SWAT team, K-9 units, and all the other bells and whistles.  The entire complex had been evacuated and taped off.  Talking to one of our cop-buddies, we were finally able to learn what had happened.

So tenant of Apartment Y had attempted to rape one of the tenants upstairs.  He had also supposedly threatened another tenant with a knife.  He had then locked himself in his apartment, and had threatened to kill people.  It was a pretty serious situation.  We decided we couldn't do any more moving that day.

What ended up happening was they bombed his door, went in and pulled him out.  When we went back to our apartment the next day, we saw that Apartment Y's door was covered with a big piece of plywood and we discovered that our door was substantially damaged by the shrapnel.

I guess this is why we're getting out of South Salt Lake.

Here's more info if you'd like it: http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/news/57840244-78/amp-lake-salt-keller.html.csp

The Napkin on the Beans...A Story of My Childhood

There are 3 things you have to understand:

1.  I am not a picky eater.  I was a good child.  I ate my vegetables.  I ate my meat.  I ate my starch.  Most children at my delicate age took one look at the mass of spinach on their plate and turned up their noses, as if to say "Mother!  How darest thou place such wretched filth upon mine plate?" But not I.  True, I did not like onions, cucumbers, peppers, and a few other measly items, but for the most part I ate what was put in front of me.

2. Casey.  Casey was the delightful blonde boy next door.  Like me, he was quite grown up (nearly 4 years old) and he was handsome and charming as could be.  He and I had many adventures together that we spoke of in hushed tones: leaping off the Unopolis's porch, rolling in the dead grass in my father's trailer, and meeting Barney (yes, the purple dinosaur himself), just to name a few.  I longed for the next opportunity to frolic in the backyard with him, and whenever that next opportunity came, I seized it.

3. Rachel.  My older sister.  Rachel was already a teenager, so she was practically a million years old.  She was older, wiser, cooler, and nicer than practically anyone else in the world.  But she also had an iron fist, and could dominate us younger siblings with said fist.

Now that you understand these 3 things, I can proceed with the story.

It was a lovely summer evening...or spring...possibly autumn...it didn't really matter as long as I could romp in the yard.  Rachel had been given the arduous task of looking after me.  I used all of my 4-year old wiles to make her see me as the perfect little sister I was to ensure I could do as I wished later in the evening. Such wiles included: making adorable comments, letting her play with my luscious blond hair, smiling a lot, and eating all of my dinner.  My plan was going perfectly...until I looked out the window.

There was Casey...playing in the back yard.  He laugh, he giggled, he smiled.  He was calling me from the prison of the kitchen to the great outdoors.  I was practically done with my dinner...I only really had my lima beans left...but who has time for lima beans?

"Raaaaaaaayyyyyyyy?" I batted my blonde eyelashes.  "Can I pleeeeeeaaaaaasssssseeeee go outside and play with Casey?"

The iron fist came down. "You have to finish your lima beans first."

My soul was crushed.  FINISH MY LIMA BEANS!  I had, like, 17 whole lima beans on my plate!  Who knew if Casey would still be in the backyard 17 lima beans later?  I hung my head in shame and disappointment.  "Okay." I mumbled.

I stabbed one lima bean with my fork...a little violent, I know, but the lima bean deserved it.  My little hand guided the fork to my mouth. The bean squished between my teeth.  In a rolling motion I ground the lima bean to bits and shoved it down my throat with my tongue.

I had to take a rest.  That took forever.  16 more lima beans to go?  Casey was on the swings now.  I wanted to be on the swings.

Then, the miracle came. Rachel suddenly excused herself from the table.  As she meandered down the hallway, away from the kitchen, a little light sparked in my brain.  An idea!  A plan!  Rachel would have no idea what hit her.  Glancing from one side to the other, making sure no one was near to witness my genius, I picked up my napkin.  With the precision of a surgeon, I placed the napkin on top of the lima beans.

Perfect!  She would never know!  There was absolutely nothing suspicious about the delicately placed napkin on my plate.  Before Rachel got back I slid out of my chair, threw open the back door, and bounded down the steps.

Casey greeted me and immediately we began to play.  During the first few minutes of our revels, my stomach clenched uneasily.  Would I be found out?  Would she suspect?  Would I be called back in to finish the villainous lima beans?

I paused a moment to look in the window.  Rachel stood by my plate.  I gulped and braced myself for the iron fist.  But she didn't look up at me, she didn't even frown. Instead it looked like she was...laughing.  Laughing?  Laughing at what?  She must have been fooled, and in seeing how wonderful her little sister was for finishing her lima beans, she couldn't contain her joy!  Oh Rachel!  Your poor, weak, grown-up mind, falling prey to my ingenious 4-year-old trap.  I smiled and turned back to the swings.

My parents came home, and still no mention of the lima beans.  Success.

Casey and I played into the evening...and all was right in the neighborhood.