It's that time of year again. Trees are in windows, lights are on houses, and everything smells like a mix of pine and gingerbread. My parents also told me to start thinking about what I want for Christmas. However, I can't think of anything I want. When I was younger, I started making Christmas lists upon Christmas lists in December. But now that I've grown up a bit, I can't just name things that I want. I like to get presents, but I've become more focused on what I'm giving to others. That didn't used to be the case. I especially remember one year when I was in second grade, I did so much for one little present...
Actually it was two to be exact. I wanted the American Girl Doll Bitty Twins. I had seen them in the back of the catalog and in the magazines (both of which I received monthly). But I needed my parents to know that I wanted them. I started out by throwing it into conversations occasionally, hoping my parents would pick up what I was putting down. When they didn't seem to grasp it I decided to move onto something more direct. I started leaving the catalog open on places where they would find it. The kitchen table, the washing machine, my dad's desk in his office, anywhere that they might stumble on it by chance and realize that I truly needed these dolls. But I remember that they still didn't drop any hints.
A week before Christmas, I launched an even more extreme plan. I started finding pictures online and printing them off in scores (we had just learned how to use search engines in computer class and I put this knowledge to "good" use). I would leave these pictures on the pillows of my parents every night before they went to bed. My parents stayed just as discrete as they had before, though. My last phase of the attack happened the day before Christmas Eve. I just remember that I composed a poem of some sort and left it in their room. I also remember that on Christmas I woke up at 4 a.m. to see if I had gotten my dolls. After waiting the three excruciating hours (my parents made us wait until 7 to wake them up), we all went down to the tree.
Sure enough, there was a large box waiting for me under the tree and inside were my twin dolls. My sly parents had known since my first step of the plan that they would buy me these dolls (as they later told me). Now Polly and Peter (I had these names picked out long before Christmas) live somewhere in a box in my attic. Looking back on this experience now, I wonder if it was worth all the effort. I do remember the happy looks on my parents faces when I opened the gift, and I think it really was.
Happy Holidays everyone!
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
What Whale?
Everyone has probably seen it by now. The large blue inflatable whale sitting on top of the elevator with huge red lips and a distinguished beauty mark. She's covered with multi-colored signatures of everyone on the swim team. This whale has had quite a journey since she landed at school on Monday morning, so without further ado, here is the story of Sheila the whale.
Our swim team mascot is the whale, so I wanted to buy one for all the girls on the team to sign. But I couldn't find one, despite checking Walmart, Target, and every other store that sold inflatable pool supplies. A few weeks ago, my mom was online shopping for some heat winner prizes for an upcoming swim meet on Oriental Trading when she found a blow-up, six foot long whale. Remembering my complaints about not being able to find one, she bought it.
I found it lying deflated on the floor a few days later (last Wednesday). I was so excited, but I couldn't blow it up. It was way too big and I didn't have enough air. My mom tried, and so did my dad but no one could blow the whale up. We hooked it up to the pump that puts air into the tires of the car, but even that didn't work.
When I came home from school that day, Sheila was all blown up. I still have no idea how, but it happened at some point. That night everyone on the swim team came over and signed it. We gave her tattoos, eyelashes, and wrote inspirational quotes on her. We wanted to bring her to Sectionals, but she was too big to fit in the spectator area. So instead Sheila was confined to the Michael living room. My parents brought her to Sectionals anyway, and threw her in the pool from the balcony when we jumped in the pool after the meet was over. It took us awhile, but we finally got her in the car and back to our house.
On Sunday afternoon Sheila was brought to school and taped on top of the elevator. Apparently it took an hour, but she has been sitting there ever since. And that is the intriguing back story to Sheila the whale.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Hallowon't
I've had plenty of good Halloweens. The time I dressed up as a crayon, twinning as Minnie Mouse even though I was too old to dress up, or matching costumes at school with my sisters are all great Halloween memories of mine. However, I've also had plenty of bad ones. There was the time my mom spent $50 on a "Snow Queen" costume for me and I trick-or-treated in the rain and completely ruined it. The time I dressed up as a butterfly, and managed to misplace the only distinguishable part of my costume (my wings) right before trick-or-treating, so I wore my all black and was a "Bad Guy" instead. The time that I wore my costume to a Halloween party a week before Halloween and got stuck in the hay on a hayride, completely ruining it. However, the worst would have to be Halloween 2008, when I was a victim of the swine flu.
The swine flu was the worst sickness I've ever had. I would rather have strep throat, a sinus infection, and ear infection, and a cold all at the same than have the swine flu again. It was absolutely awful. This was when half of my school was out sick as well, and they would send you home if you looked sick. That was what happened to me. I fell asleep in class, and woke up to find the teacher sending me to the office. I went home but swore to come back to school the next day because it was Halloween.
Long story short, I did not go to school the next day. My fever had gone up to 101.something and I was quarantined to the couch with a bottle of water to "drink until the sickness went away." I desperately wanted to go trick-or-treating with my friends and wear my ballerina costume (although looking back on it now, I realize it was probably better that that costume never saw the light of day). Naturally my mom refused, so I had to cancel my plans. However, she said I would be allowed to trick-or-treat to the five houses around the cul-de-sac that I lived in, but I had to wear a costume that would keep me sufficiently warm.
All of you readers who have had the flu probably know that the worst part is the chills: you can never be warm enough no matter how many sweaters you wear or blankets you hide under. So going out in the freezing cold didn't sound too appealing to a chill-ridden me. However, I was determined to get candy in some way, shape, or form even if it was just a Snickers bar from the family next door. Luckily, my mom had the answer. She dressed me in her Pillsbury doughboy costume from when she was seven months pregnant with my younger sister. This meant XL white sweatshirt and sweatpants, as well as a hat with the Pillsbury logo on it. Since I didn't quite fill out the costume, I wore two sweatshirts and two pairs of sweatpants underneath, and my mom stuffed my stomach with pillows. Since I was already pale from the sickness, there was no need to do anything to my face. I looked like a human marshmallow.
In the end, my trick-or-treating haul was five pieces of candy. I successfully made it halfway around my cul-de-sac before collapsing back at my house. The Pillsbury doughboy is known as a chipper, happy-go-lucky little character, but I was the exact opposite. I could barely moan the words "trick-or-treat," and when my neighbors asked to hear the trademark Pillsbury doughboy laugh, all I could do was stare at them. They took sympathy on when my mom told them I had the swine flu, however they did back up a few feet and practically threw the candy at me. Then, it was back to the couch for me where I watched Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin and felt sorry for myself.
And that was my worst Halloween. Although it seemed like the end of the world at the time, I do suppose it could have been a lot worse. Although it was a week before I felt well enough to eat my candy, I was so proud of myself for persevering and getting those five candy bars. And the Pillsbury doughboy costume sits in a box in the attic, waiting for its next user. So if anyone would like to dress up as an extra-large baking mascot for any holiday, you know who to ask for a costume!
The swine flu was the worst sickness I've ever had. I would rather have strep throat, a sinus infection, and ear infection, and a cold all at the same than have the swine flu again. It was absolutely awful. This was when half of my school was out sick as well, and they would send you home if you looked sick. That was what happened to me. I fell asleep in class, and woke up to find the teacher sending me to the office. I went home but swore to come back to school the next day because it was Halloween.
Long story short, I did not go to school the next day. My fever had gone up to 101.something and I was quarantined to the couch with a bottle of water to "drink until the sickness went away." I desperately wanted to go trick-or-treating with my friends and wear my ballerina costume (although looking back on it now, I realize it was probably better that that costume never saw the light of day). Naturally my mom refused, so I had to cancel my plans. However, she said I would be allowed to trick-or-treat to the five houses around the cul-de-sac that I lived in, but I had to wear a costume that would keep me sufficiently warm.
All of you readers who have had the flu probably know that the worst part is the chills: you can never be warm enough no matter how many sweaters you wear or blankets you hide under. So going out in the freezing cold didn't sound too appealing to a chill-ridden me. However, I was determined to get candy in some way, shape, or form even if it was just a Snickers bar from the family next door. Luckily, my mom had the answer. She dressed me in her Pillsbury doughboy costume from when she was seven months pregnant with my younger sister. This meant XL white sweatshirt and sweatpants, as well as a hat with the Pillsbury logo on it. Since I didn't quite fill out the costume, I wore two sweatshirts and two pairs of sweatpants underneath, and my mom stuffed my stomach with pillows. Since I was already pale from the sickness, there was no need to do anything to my face. I looked like a human marshmallow.
In the end, my trick-or-treating haul was five pieces of candy. I successfully made it halfway around my cul-de-sac before collapsing back at my house. The Pillsbury doughboy is known as a chipper, happy-go-lucky little character, but I was the exact opposite. I could barely moan the words "trick-or-treat," and when my neighbors asked to hear the trademark Pillsbury doughboy laugh, all I could do was stare at them. They took sympathy on when my mom told them I had the swine flu, however they did back up a few feet and practically threw the candy at me. Then, it was back to the couch for me where I watched Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin and felt sorry for myself.
And that was my worst Halloween. Although it seemed like the end of the world at the time, I do suppose it could have been a lot worse. Although it was a week before I felt well enough to eat my candy, I was so proud of myself for persevering and getting those five candy bars. And the Pillsbury doughboy costume sits in a box in the attic, waiting for its next user. So if anyone would like to dress up as an extra-large baking mascot for any holiday, you know who to ask for a costume!
Thursday, October 23, 2014
The 4 Strangest Encounters I Had at the Gym Yesterday
Let me just preface this by saying that I haven't been to the Y to work out in awhile. Instead, we've been able to use the nice, peaceful weight room at Kenney, where there is never a wait for a machine and the people are never terrifying. But yesterday, I went to the Y after school and, boy, did I ever have a wake-up call. Between the huge men pumping and pumping iron to the tiny boys trying to bulk up, I ran into some pretty interesting people while trying to work out.
4. The Dancing Man - At the Y, they tend to blare very fast, motivational music in the weight room at high volumes. For the most part, people tend to ignore this, but not the man I ran into. During the song S & M (by Rihanna), this man was dancing around weight racks and the benches, waving his arms and doing incredibly uncomfortable hip thrusts. He was an older gentleman too, which made this experience all the weirder.
3. The Squat Hog - There is a lot of equipment at the Y, but at times it can be hard to work yourself in and share. There are two "squat stations," each equipped with a bar and the appropriate weights. These are usually the most popular, so I knew that I wouldn't get my turn there when I first arrived yesterday. I waited for about half an hour, but the same man was using the station. He would do a couple reps for a minute, then rest about five, leaving his weights and taking a casual stroll around the gym! I wanted to go and steal the station from him, but he left his multitudes of large weights on the bar, and I knew that I would embarrass myself if I tried to take them off. Finally, he took of his weights and left and I ran over to snatch the station before anyone else did. No sooner had I gotten there, he came back and asked if he could "work in" with me, because he still wasn't done!
2. The Arctic-Clad Observer - The squat station isn't the only machine at the Y that was occupied for awhile yesterday. I wanted to do my leg curls, so I went over the section with all the leg machines. However, the machine wasn't empty. There was a middle-aged woman sitting on it, not lifting any weight. She was perched on the machine watching what everyone else around her was doing. Not only that, but she was also dressed for sub-zero temperatures in a large pair of sweatpants as well as a legitimate parka. I waited for awhile, but she just sat there with no intention of moving, so I moved on. I saw her get up and leave about five minutes later.
1. Cashin' Out - My personal favorite, however, was the main I bumped into at the overhead press. And by bumped, I mean accidentally tripped over his foot and then stuttered about 10 apologies because I was so terrified. He was about my height, but very wide, with a beard to rival any of the Robertson's (from Duck Dynasty). Instead of a camouflage shirt, however, he wore a very large black tee shirt with the word CASH spelled out in huge, capital letters. If that wasn't enough, underneath there was a large picture of a sneering man flipping off the camera (or whatever people dared to check out this shirt). All I could wonder was, where did he ever find a shirt like that and why did he decide to wear it to a place full of children?
And there we have it, my picture of the Y on a school afternoon. My recommendation? If you want to work out, go at night. Do you have any weird gym encounters?
4. The Dancing Man - At the Y, they tend to blare very fast, motivational music in the weight room at high volumes. For the most part, people tend to ignore this, but not the man I ran into. During the song S & M (by Rihanna), this man was dancing around weight racks and the benches, waving his arms and doing incredibly uncomfortable hip thrusts. He was an older gentleman too, which made this experience all the weirder.
3. The Squat Hog - There is a lot of equipment at the Y, but at times it can be hard to work yourself in and share. There are two "squat stations," each equipped with a bar and the appropriate weights. These are usually the most popular, so I knew that I wouldn't get my turn there when I first arrived yesterday. I waited for about half an hour, but the same man was using the station. He would do a couple reps for a minute, then rest about five, leaving his weights and taking a casual stroll around the gym! I wanted to go and steal the station from him, but he left his multitudes of large weights on the bar, and I knew that I would embarrass myself if I tried to take them off. Finally, he took of his weights and left and I ran over to snatch the station before anyone else did. No sooner had I gotten there, he came back and asked if he could "work in" with me, because he still wasn't done!
2. The Arctic-Clad Observer - The squat station isn't the only machine at the Y that was occupied for awhile yesterday. I wanted to do my leg curls, so I went over the section with all the leg machines. However, the machine wasn't empty. There was a middle-aged woman sitting on it, not lifting any weight. She was perched on the machine watching what everyone else around her was doing. Not only that, but she was also dressed for sub-zero temperatures in a large pair of sweatpants as well as a legitimate parka. I waited for awhile, but she just sat there with no intention of moving, so I moved on. I saw her get up and leave about five minutes later.
1. Cashin' Out - My personal favorite, however, was the main I bumped into at the overhead press. And by bumped, I mean accidentally tripped over his foot and then stuttered about 10 apologies because I was so terrified. He was about my height, but very wide, with a beard to rival any of the Robertson's (from Duck Dynasty). Instead of a camouflage shirt, however, he wore a very large black tee shirt with the word CASH spelled out in huge, capital letters. If that wasn't enough, underneath there was a large picture of a sneering man flipping off the camera (or whatever people dared to check out this shirt). All I could wonder was, where did he ever find a shirt like that and why did he decide to wear it to a place full of children?
And there we have it, my picture of the Y on a school afternoon. My recommendation? If you want to work out, go at night. Do you have any weird gym encounters?
Thursday, October 9, 2014
No Matter What, She's Always a Puppy to Me
Yesterday my dog, Molly, went to the vet for her first "old dog check-up." She came home laden with pills, slightly wobbly from two shots, and scheduled for a surgery to remove one of her teeth. I was shocked. The little ball of fluff that I'd always called "Puppy" or "Baby" was entering into her senior citizen years. It seemed like yesterday that we had gotten her.
When I was in fifth grade, I badly wanted a dog, as did all of my sisters. It got so bad that my mom bought us a life-sized "real dog" stuffed animal to play with, along with assorted strange outfits, but that did no good. We had to settle for babysitting other family's dogs when they went away on vacation, getting to pretend we had one for a few days before we had to give it back. That changed the fall of my fifth grade year when we took in a shih tzu named Moxie.
A family friend of ours called one day and asked if we could watch this little dog for about a week. They were watching her for an older woman, and just went over to let her out in the backyard three times a day. She was cooped up in a house, and the living conditions were horrible. The woman they were watching her for was in the hospital for a "brief procedure," they assured us. Of course, we jumped at the opportunity, and Moxie came to stay with us.
Moxie was the stereotypical lap dog of an old woman. And by lap dog, I mean that she was incredibly lazy and not used to living with four girls and two energetic parents. Moxie loved to sit on laps, but didn't know how to play. We would toss a ball and she would run toward it, only to get tired halfway and plop on the floor for awhile to rest. She didn't know how to climb stairs, and when she learned she would get tired after two or three steps and just sit and look at us, with those giant brown eyes. We LOVED her. So, when the week was up, the thought of giving her back was very painful. But no one contacted us, or came to pick her up. Moxie remained at the Michael house.
After that one week turned into two, two turned into three, a month passed, and eventually two. We had no idea what was going on, but we soon received devastating news. This woman who we thought was in the hospital only for a brief procedure was an 85-year-old woman who was very ill, staying in the ICU. We were stunned. No one had mentioned this to us, and we didn't know what to do. A few days later she passed away, leaving no mention of what to do with her dog. We didn't know either, until one day when my dad came home and suddenly got up during dinner with an announcement. He turned to Molly and said, "Moxie, would you like to become a Michael?"
That was the biggest surprise to us, because the one stick in the mud with the dog situation was my dad. Seeing him now, you would have no idea that he used to despise dogs. He refused to touch Moxie, and only occasionally referred to her as "Dog." Then one day, he came home from work and fell asleep on the couch. Moxie jumped on his stomach, curled up in a ball, and fell asleep too. Since then, the two of them have been inseparable. He takes Molly on long walks, feeds her scraps from his plate when he gets up to put it in the dishwasher, and lets her sleep on his stomach every day when he gets home from work.
And that's how we got our puppy. Of course, we had to change her name to something a little more dog-like, and Molly Michael became Thing 5 (in picture). It seems like she was a puppy such a short time ago, but now she's entering her grown-up dog years. And although sooner or later she may have to invest in something like Dentures for Dogs, she'll always be a puppy to me.
And that's how we got our puppy. Of course, we had to change her name to something a little more dog-like, and Molly Michael became Thing 5 (in picture). It seems like she was a puppy such a short time ago, but now she's entering her grown-up dog years. And although sooner or later she may have to invest in something like Dentures for Dogs, she'll always be a puppy to me.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
The 5 Stages of Falling Asleep in Class
It's happened to everyone. Whether you're confused and having a hard time paying attention, had to wake up at an ungodly early hour, or just had to stay up until the end of the Modern Family marathon last night, everyone has taken a little snooze during class at least once in their life. Based on my own personal experience, here's my handy little guide to the five stages of falling asleep in class.
1. The Headache: You're trying to pay attention, but you just can't. You feel restless, but at the same time, feel like you can't move. Your head is pounding, but not in an "I have a migraine and need to go home sort of way." You want to put your head down, and you find yourself wondering why there is absolutely no way to feel comfortable while sitting in a desk.
2. Heavy Eyelids: All of a sudden, your eyelids feel like they weigh about 100 pounds. They feel like bricks, and you wonder why this part of your face is so disproportionately heavy compared to everything else. You can't get them to stay open, no matter how hard you try, so you settle for an awkward half-open, half-closed look that no one will buy. At this point, sleep is inevitable no matter what you do.
3. Zombie Sleep: It feels like you're underwater with your eyes open. Everything gets blurry, and you can hear and feel things around you but you have no real sense of what is going on. Your limbs feel cumbersome and bulky, almost as heavy as your eyelids, and you know that if you tried to walk it would be disjointed and Frankenstein-like. You blink for longer and longer periods of time, desperately fighting a losing battle with your eyes, trying to keep them open. You pinch yourself, try to eat something to stay awake, but know that you're losing an uphill battle. All the noises slowly grow muted, and soon all you hear is a dull, soft noise.
4. Dead to the World, The Real Deal Sleep: You have no sense of time, and all you "see" is a dull blackness. Your neighbor subtly points you out to other classmates, and soon word has traveled that you're that one person who fell asleep. People watch, confused at the awkward and seemingly uncomfortable position you've settled into. They wait for you to wake up or for the teacher to catch you, whichever happens first.
5. Where Am I Wake-Up: And then, suddenly it's as if your internal alarm clock kicks in, and your eyelids are miraculously lightened! But you feel lost, like you got off the wrong stop on the bus and don't know what to do. Suddenly, it all comes back to you. The uncomfortable desk that has the one pointy part in the corner you have to remember not to touch. The muffled sound of people writing, turning pages in notebooks. People gawk at you, but you just try to blend in with what the rest of the class is doing, stealthily glancing at the teacher to make sure that they didn't catch you in the act. Feeling safe, and (somewhat) refreshed, you continue on with your day.
1. The Headache: You're trying to pay attention, but you just can't. You feel restless, but at the same time, feel like you can't move. Your head is pounding, but not in an "I have a migraine and need to go home sort of way." You want to put your head down, and you find yourself wondering why there is absolutely no way to feel comfortable while sitting in a desk.
2. Heavy Eyelids: All of a sudden, your eyelids feel like they weigh about 100 pounds. They feel like bricks, and you wonder why this part of your face is so disproportionately heavy compared to everything else. You can't get them to stay open, no matter how hard you try, so you settle for an awkward half-open, half-closed look that no one will buy. At this point, sleep is inevitable no matter what you do.
3. Zombie Sleep: It feels like you're underwater with your eyes open. Everything gets blurry, and you can hear and feel things around you but you have no real sense of what is going on. Your limbs feel cumbersome and bulky, almost as heavy as your eyelids, and you know that if you tried to walk it would be disjointed and Frankenstein-like. You blink for longer and longer periods of time, desperately fighting a losing battle with your eyes, trying to keep them open. You pinch yourself, try to eat something to stay awake, but know that you're losing an uphill battle. All the noises slowly grow muted, and soon all you hear is a dull, soft noise.
4. Dead to the World, The Real Deal Sleep: You have no sense of time, and all you "see" is a dull blackness. Your neighbor subtly points you out to other classmates, and soon word has traveled that you're that one person who fell asleep. People watch, confused at the awkward and seemingly uncomfortable position you've settled into. They wait for you to wake up or for the teacher to catch you, whichever happens first.
5. Where Am I Wake-Up: And then, suddenly it's as if your internal alarm clock kicks in, and your eyelids are miraculously lightened! But you feel lost, like you got off the wrong stop on the bus and don't know what to do. Suddenly, it all comes back to you. The uncomfortable desk that has the one pointy part in the corner you have to remember not to touch. The muffled sound of people writing, turning pages in notebooks. People gawk at you, but you just try to blend in with what the rest of the class is doing, stealthily glancing at the teacher to make sure that they didn't catch you in the act. Feeling safe, and (somewhat) refreshed, you continue on with your day.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Me, My Blog, and I
If this were the beginning of a movie, you would see a montage of scenes from my life with some kind of a cheerful soundtrack playing. Unfortunately, this isn't a movie, and I don't have the technological genius to put something like that together. So, my dear readers, you'll just have to use your imaginations for now. Sit back, relax, and welcome to the life of Claire!
I was born two months prematurely at 4 pounds, 4 ounces. I had to stay in the hospital for an extra week because the doctors worried my lungs weren't developing. I was also incredibly tiny. That is no longer the case. I'm about 5'10 now and the tallest of the four sisters, but (hopefully) not still growing.
Speaking of sisters, I happen to have three: Bissy, Annemarie, and Maddie (Things 1, 3, and 4 respectively). Bissy is 19 and a sophomore at Rice University in Houston, Texas. She's quirky, lively, and way too well-rounded. She's currently the quarterback on her Powder Puff football team, she plays water polo, she's in choir, and she's also an expert at tango, swing dance, and is currently taking Advanced Two-Stepping. Annemarie is 15 and a sophmore here at Uni. People often confuse us from behind because we share the same mane of curly, bushy, brown hair. She's feisty, sporty, and can do anything. She runs cross-country and track, swims, and is most definitely a biking enthusiast. She also plays the French horn, and she's in choir. She's the sister that I'm closest in age to, and my partner in crime. Last but not least, Maddie is my youngest sister. She only has one volume (very loud), never stops talking, and loves to cheer for us although she has a million and one talents of her own. She runs cross-country, swims, sings in a choir, and loves baking, art, and doing weird things to her hair.
When I was younger, I was never in Pee-Wee soccer, basketball, t-ball, or any other ball sport. Being klutzy on land, my parents decided that a sport in the water would be best for me. Since diving was out (the whole klutzy thing), they put me on the Indian Acres swim team. When I was 8 I joined my club team and I've been swimming year-round ever since. Although it means forever chlorine-damaged hair, dry, lizard-like skin, and constant blisters on my hands from weightlifting, I love it. This is why you may see me walking to school with soaking wet hair, trying to balance at least four bags along with my breakfast. The answer is simple: morning practice.
When I was in seventh grade, Annemarie introduced me to my only land sport: running. I joined the cross-country team that year, and I was horrible. I was always in the back of the pack, and I hated working hard. All I wanted to do was run with my friends and gossip. The big excitement of my season was getting under 20 minutes in the two mile race. But in eighth grade I started working harder, and I learned how to put my long legs to use. I still have my IESA State sweatshirt from the year. When I came to Uni, I joined the track team my sophomore year and loved it! Two miles was just a bit too long for me, so I run distances that are in the middle (like the 400 and 800 as well as the relays). I've been trying to run longer distances just for fun, and I hope to train for my first half marathon this spring!
And that's me. At least the me that I have to put on college applications, the overview. But just for kicks, here are some other totally random facts about me that you don't get with my basic summary... I like sushi, but I refuse to eat it with vegetables of any sort inside. I have two dogs, Molly and Nora. At one point in my life I had an incredibly unflattering bowl haircut. One of my favorite foods is plain white rice. It is impossible for me to take a nap, no matter how tired I am. I can stand any type of music but country. Over the past two summers I've gone to France and England. I play the euphonium (it looks like a little tuba) because when I was in fourth grade, my mom told me that all of the cute boys played that instrument (she was wrong). I got my license a month after my 17th birthday. I ride all the kiddie rides at amusement parks. I once set something on fire while trying to cook. My favorite subject is French but my accent sounds like an American tourist. I went to Catholic school for nine years. I got into Uni as a transfer freshman year. I can't stand Starbursts.
And that's that, everyone!
I was born two months prematurely at 4 pounds, 4 ounces. I had to stay in the hospital for an extra week because the doctors worried my lungs weren't developing. I was also incredibly tiny. That is no longer the case. I'm about 5'10 now and the tallest of the four sisters, but (hopefully) not still growing.
Speaking of sisters, I happen to have three: Bissy, Annemarie, and Maddie (Things 1, 3, and 4 respectively). Bissy is 19 and a sophomore at Rice University in Houston, Texas. She's quirky, lively, and way too well-rounded. She's currently the quarterback on her Powder Puff football team, she plays water polo, she's in choir, and she's also an expert at tango, swing dance, and is currently taking Advanced Two-Stepping. Annemarie is 15 and a sophmore here at Uni. People often confuse us from behind because we share the same mane of curly, bushy, brown hair. She's feisty, sporty, and can do anything. She runs cross-country and track, swims, and is most definitely a biking enthusiast. She also plays the French horn, and she's in choir. She's the sister that I'm closest in age to, and my partner in crime. Last but not least, Maddie is my youngest sister. She only has one volume (very loud), never stops talking, and loves to cheer for us although she has a million and one talents of her own. She runs cross-country, swims, sings in a choir, and loves baking, art, and doing weird things to her hair.
When I was younger, I was never in Pee-Wee soccer, basketball, t-ball, or any other ball sport. Being klutzy on land, my parents decided that a sport in the water would be best for me. Since diving was out (the whole klutzy thing), they put me on the Indian Acres swim team. When I was 8 I joined my club team and I've been swimming year-round ever since. Although it means forever chlorine-damaged hair, dry, lizard-like skin, and constant blisters on my hands from weightlifting, I love it. This is why you may see me walking to school with soaking wet hair, trying to balance at least four bags along with my breakfast. The answer is simple: morning practice.
When I was in seventh grade, Annemarie introduced me to my only land sport: running. I joined the cross-country team that year, and I was horrible. I was always in the back of the pack, and I hated working hard. All I wanted to do was run with my friends and gossip. The big excitement of my season was getting under 20 minutes in the two mile race. But in eighth grade I started working harder, and I learned how to put my long legs to use. I still have my IESA State sweatshirt from the year. When I came to Uni, I joined the track team my sophomore year and loved it! Two miles was just a bit too long for me, so I run distances that are in the middle (like the 400 and 800 as well as the relays). I've been trying to run longer distances just for fun, and I hope to train for my first half marathon this spring!
And that's me. At least the me that I have to put on college applications, the overview. But just for kicks, here are some other totally random facts about me that you don't get with my basic summary... I like sushi, but I refuse to eat it with vegetables of any sort inside. I have two dogs, Molly and Nora. At one point in my life I had an incredibly unflattering bowl haircut. One of my favorite foods is plain white rice. It is impossible for me to take a nap, no matter how tired I am. I can stand any type of music but country. Over the past two summers I've gone to France and England. I play the euphonium (it looks like a little tuba) because when I was in fourth grade, my mom told me that all of the cute boys played that instrument (she was wrong). I got my license a month after my 17th birthday. I ride all the kiddie rides at amusement parks. I once set something on fire while trying to cook. My favorite subject is French but my accent sounds like an American tourist. I went to Catholic school for nine years. I got into Uni as a transfer freshman year. I can't stand Starbursts.
And that's that, everyone!
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