My Talent

So I started a new blog.

It's a blog to share my crazy story ideas.

It's called...

"my talent."

I would be overjoyed if you followed it and read it.

So go to:

www.abigailalice.blogspot.com


and click the follow button!


Also, make sure to check in every so often for a new idea.


I need your constructive criticism.


It would make my day.


♥ Abigail ♥


P.S. Merry late Christmas!

Oh, What Fun

Since Christmas Break has started I have been doing nothing but relaxing. I go to bed at 2 in the morning and wake up at noon, just in time for lunch. No matter how hard I try to get up at 9 after playing video games all night I just can't do it. Must. Go. Back. To. Sleep. Oh, how I love two week-long breaks.

Parker came into town on Saturday morning, only to find that his car is loaded with boxes of Nike apparel. Since he has an amazing job at Nike over in Portland, he always brings home something for each one of the siblings. He's our personal Santa Claus. His wife, Meegan, will come into town tomorrow. Oh, how I love two week-long breaks.

Our house has smelled heavenly lately. Every night my mom makes a huge batch of homemade caramels. It's surprising that even a healthy eater like Mom can whip up the most amazing desserts. She also makes chicken corn chowder, another Mangum favorite, at least once a week. There's also the scent of pine around. Even though we bought a fake tree this year, we make sure to spray air freshener with the smell of pine so it seems like it's real. Oh, how I love two week-long breaks.

A blurry picture of our fake tree

I can't wait for Christmas this year...

♥ Abigail ♥

12 Years Living

On Saturday, December 4th, I turned 12 years old. For me, this is a great accomplishment. It means I am given more privileges, I have survived twelve years of life, and, most importantly, I get to advance from Primary to Young Women's.

Primary, in our Mormon terms, is the place kids from ages 3-11 go for the third hour of our three-hour long church. You sing songs from the Children's Songbook, learn one lesson per Sunday, and suffer an hour of obnoxious little kids. By the time you're ten years old you're wishing to escape into the peacefulness of Young Women's. That's where girls aged 12-17 go for the third hour. Boys go to Young Men's. There you are surrounded by well-behaved girls who are always willing to help with any problem of yours. It is easier to focus, for it is quiet in the room. The only noise you can hear besides the teacher is the hum of the furnace. 

I got to go to my first lesson as an official Young Woman on Sunday. We learned about the Nativity and thoughts about Christmas. For the first time in years I actually enjoyed listening, whereas in Primary I would never pay attention. I am excited to be with these girls; this should be quite an adventure.

As a celebration for surviving twelve years on Earth, I invited five girls over and together we went bowling and watched a basketball game (well, we didn't exactly watch). We had so much fun laughing, eating until we felt sick, and failing in bowling. No one could get the right technique down, so no one got very many points...except for me. Although I used the wrong technique, I scored 98 points, which is my new record! :) Bowling definitely isn't my sport, or anyone's, for that matter. No worries. We took lots of pictures (the ones above are just a few) and had the time of our lives. If I could relive one night of my life again, it would be that one. I don't think I could have a better experience.

Now Christmas is just around the corner; the house is covered in red, green, and lots of bright lights. I can't wait to see what this one has in store!

Oh, how I love December.

♥ Abigail ♥

Thankful

This past Thursday was a special day for my family and (hopefully) everyone else celebrating Thanksgiving. I had a huge feast with my parents and two of my four siblings. The grand dining room table was covered in some of my favorite foods: turkey, rolls with a lot of butter, mashed potatoes, and cooked carrots. It was probably one of the greatest meals in history.

The day before, Dad, my sister Meredith, and I packed up to drive to Salt Lake for the annual dinner my grandmother holds every year for my father's side of the family. There has not been one year where I haven't gone to the dinner. I am always so used to walking into Grandma's mansion and seeing the kids' table in the living room and the adults' table in the dining room. There are name tags set up in front of every platter, each individually written for every person in the family.

The three of us were very excited to once again go to the dinner, for we all were anxious to see our family after a few months, but as we went farther down the highway, we began to go slower and slower until we were driving only 30 miles per hour. The icy roads had slowed everyone down; Dad groaned in frustration. It wasn't until we were two hours into the trip that we realized we wouldn't make it until 8:00. So we pulled into a small town called Wendell, grabbed some lunch, and turned around. Though we were disappointed we wouldn't get to experience the gourmet meal Grandma always prepared, we also knew it wasn't worth it to drive seven hours to Salt Lake and then come back home the next day.

Thanksgiving day was even better now that we were home. This was my first year not being in Utah. We ate a meal that was identical to Grandma's, made by my lovely mother. It was even better since we had Tanner and Mom with us for the special occasion. We ate until we felt sick and had a Scrabble tournament (we are the masters at that game, let me tell you). Then we went to a movie called The Next Three Days. Russell Crowe is the main character, and he plays a father whose wife is accused of murder and is put in prison innocently. He has to risk his whole life to free her from lifelong captivity. It's an intense show; I strongly recommend it.

Now back to the point of the post, shall we?

I have so many things to be thankful for. If I was asked to name everything, it would take days to finish off the list. Literally, I don't think I could be any happier than I am now. To prove it, I'll post some of my gratitude list on here.

I Am Thankful For...

• the Internet
• slippers
• lazy days
• the sun
• Snuggies
• a body built to play basketball
• my chance to come to Earth
• shoes
• my family
• older siblings
• wise parents
• guidance
• jackets
• snow on the ground
• Christmas
• TV
• breaks from school
• teachers
• a personality of my own
• this blog
• capability of choosing right from wrong
• Nike
• my bedroom
• water
• Pepsi
• the challenges in life
• my height
• friends (and lots of them!)
• bikes
• laughter
• little kids
• swings on a playground
• the moon
• Meegan- if you hadn't come to Parker's rescue, he'd be desperate for love by now!
• music
• orthodontists (no matter how much pain they put you through)
• life lessons
• the world
• Cooper
• the mall
• hardwood floors to slide on
• hickey bobbing in the winter
• the church
• an older sister
• three football-playing brothers
• time
• cruise control
• school (no matter how boring it is)
• junk food
• movies
• the night time
• BYU
• loyal neighbors 

I have so much more, but I think I should stop now before I can't stop writing. I just think that I should take more advantage of what I have instead of wasting my time wishing for things other people have. I have so much to live for; why should I use all of my time here fretting about boys and drama and all the other time-wasting things? I ask myself this question all the time, but I don't have an answer for it.

Honestly, I really don't think I ever will have an answer.

♥ Abigail ♥

P.S. My birthday is on Saturday!

P.P.S. Happy late birthday to Parker! 26 years already?!

On Harry Potter

I was lucky enough to witness this movie on Saturday afternoon. My family, deciding that it was time we all see a movie together, was amazed by how much the actors have grown up. Just seven or so years ago the first Harry Potter came out, and they were such young kids around my age. Now, they've all (definitely) gone through their puberty and are looking more like adults. 

Like many, I was disappointed that they put the movie into two parts instead of one. I am too impatient to wait until summer 2011 to find out what happens to Harry once and for all. The end of the first part leaves you wondering what is to occur, and that just made me even angrier. I don't think I can make it six months without drawing conclusions. I am hoping that there is a twist to the end, like, "It looks like Harry is doomed until Voldemort trips over a rock and dies." But that is not possible. Voldemort isn't that clumsy, is he? Besides, that would ruin the whole story.

I think I am in the middle of one of those celebrity crushes again. Daniel Radcliffe has turned out to be a surprisingly attractive hunk, and you can't help but drool over him, even with the glasses he wears in the movie and how he always seems to get dirty right after he showers. Are your feelings the same for me, Mr. Potter? 

I cannot wait for the next episode to come out in summer 2011. Until then...

♥ Abigail ♥

P.S. Happy (almost) Thanksgiving!

P.P.S. My birthday is in less than two weeks! WAHOO!

A Day to Remember: A Tribute

On Tuesday morning all of Eagle Middle School gathered in the main gymnasium with excited chatter. It had been a long morning filled with assignments and learning, and this assembly put all that stress out of our minds. Mrs. Walling's 3rd period class (science) sat in the top row of the purple bleachers. We talked amongst ourselves until Mr. Nelson, our principal, cleared his throat and commenced the program. At that moment everyone settled down.

After Mr. Nelson thanked everyone for coming in his very noticeable lisp of a voice, he let the assembly begin. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance, and then the band played the national anthem. Afterwards two men in those Scottish skirts (kilts, right?) came marching in playing the bagpipes. When they left they got a standing ovation, started by my friend and me. Who doesn't love men in skirts?

The boys' choir and the 7th grade girls choir sang "Grand Old Flag" together. Then the 8th grade girls choir, who took up all the space on the risers, sang a well-known piece, but I do not remember the name. The orchestra then came in and played a song called "Something Hoedown". I have a really bad memory, so I can't recall any of these songs.

Swing Dance, the team I had tried out for but failed miserably, performed as well. They did practically the exact same moves we learned when we were trying out, except better. After yet another standing ovation, Mrs. Spiers, the lady who put the whole program together, let fellow students come to the microphone and recognize a relative serving in the war. That was a quiet time. It wasn't until at least ten seconds after everyone had come up to recognize someone that the first cheer was heard. Again, everyone stood up.

Then came the most important part of the whole event: honoring the veterans who came in from Veteran Homes to be in the program. Mrs. Spiers introduced each and every one of them. There were several men in wheelchairs, others hardly able to move, others with terrible hearing abilities, and some who were all scratched up from their time in the war. Battle wounds, as we call them.

I didn't realize it then, but when I came home from school that day I began thinking about the soldiers. What would it have been like to fight in World War II? I wonder how hard training was for them. If I'd served in the war, would I be dead right now? Then that got me thinking about the people who had died serving our country. It made me feel lucky to be in such a great country. There's no other place I would rather be than the USA.

Thank you, soldiers, for making me realize that there is more to war than guns and blood and goriness. You have really shown me what it is like to sacrifice your life for something you love.

I love the USA.

♥ Abigail ♥

My Little Brother

Meet Cooper.

He's my four-legged buddy who is always there when I come home.

He gives me company when I am alone.

He's very good at making sure he marks his territory when we go on walks.

He never barks.

He loves people (and jumping on them).

He would do anything to get attention.

He's a quick learner; in fact, I taught him "shake" in three tries.

He likes to sleep.

He came from the Humane Society (or as I like to call it, the nasty pound).

He's single, lady pooches. ;)

But most importantly, he's my best friend.

Even though he can't respond, I tell him everything.

He is always there for me when I am in a bad mood.

He'll love me no matter what.

(Oh wow, I'm crying now.)

On Thursday, October 28th, Cooper turned four years old.

In my terms, he's one third done with his life.

Every day he grows older.

Every day I find a loose gray hair hanging around his fur.

Every day he grows a little bigger.

It makes me sad knowing he will live only to a minimum of 12 years old.

I feel bad not giving him all the attention I could.

Instead I stare at this computer screen when I could be throwing the ball with my dog.

My best friend.

The best thing I could ever have in my growing years.

We're going through this life together.

One step at a time.

Through all the tough times, a dog and a girl have each other's backs.

He may only be a dog,

but he has feelings too.

Probably just as many as a human does.

People take dogs for granted.

In my perspective, dogs are anyone's best friend.

They don't care if you're rich or poor...

Dirty or spotless...

Homeless or owner of a mansion...

Ugly or beautiful...

All they care about is that you're there with them.

Which is why I would do anything for my dog.

Even if it meant sacrificing something.

And that's a lot to ask for, considering he's just a dog.

So, happy birthday, my King of All Cutie Pies.

You've got a bright future ahead of you.

♥ Abigail ♥

Life As it Is

Me yesterday (10/19/10)

Me with my frizzy hair today (10/20/10)

October has been filled with lots of excitement and lots of surprises, but since my busy schedule got in the way I was unable to tell of these adventures. Tonight, at 8:44 PM, is my chance. So I'm going to take a deep breath, get my fingers ready for typing, and here I go.

Remember when I told you about Swing Dance? Well, we had the tryouts over a week ago. For a long, putrid week Mrs. Spiers put together a routine, one that we were all required to do. Both my partner, Grant, and I understood it, but we just didn't coordinate well. Our steps were off, one of us would usually mess up on a certain part, and we both had a lot of work to do. We cleaned it up two days before the tryout, practicing constantly, but when Mrs. Spiers asked us to add our own moves, our creativity just didn't come out. We decided to just stick with the same pattern and repeat it over and over, even if by the end of the song we were drenched in sweat. 

It was Wednesday after school, just minutes before the tryouts would begin, that I realized, "What am I doing, trying to ask a 7th grader I barely even talk with to dance with me?" But it was too late now. It was our turn. We walked on stage with three other couples and got in position. My legs were shaking and my teeth were chattering. This was the moment when all the practice was to pay off, but I didn't feel confident up there. Should I have felt that way?

"Rockin' Robin", the song we'd been practicing with for what seemed an everlasting week, blared out of the speakers, full volume. I felt that I had good rhythm, stepping exactly on the right beat. I messed up, however, on an easy move. I could tell the judges were not pleased.

While everyone else out there was doing flips and kicks and twirls and crazy impressive moves, Grant and I just went along, repeating the same choreography that Mrs. Spiers had taught us. I was dripping with sweat, though I tried not to show it. I was relieved when the song ended and the judges had recorded the scores. It was done and over with, and that was all that mattered to me.

The next morning the list of people who had made the cut was hanging out of the front doors leading to the gymnasium. I didn't expect to make it, for I knew I'd done terrible in the tryouts, no matter how many compliments I got from the others. And guess what? My inference was true. I didn't make it. Hurrah. I reported the news to Grant, who didn't seem very disappointed, either. We just went along like it was no big deal. We had been rejected, but that was fine with me. It is how it is.

School lags on, and the lessons get more challenging. There is a test or quiz at least once a week, and the discipline is getting harsher. Tardies are unacceptable with the teachers, being this far into the school year. In fact, the first quarter ends next week. I am both excited and unhappy. I should at least try to enjoy it; I have no choice if I want to skip school or not. Seven and a half more months and we're out for another two months! Can't wait...

Tanner is recovering quickly. Today he even threw the ball thirty yards. There is no pain in his arm, but he can feel the pin that was inserted in his collar bone during the surgery. It must be disturbing to him, but he is used to it. In the next two games he may be playing again!

My beautiful mother's birthday is on Friday. She turns...oh, why does that matter? I can't wait to celebrate the birth of the woman who gave birth to ME. She is the cheese to my macaroni, the Ramen to my Top, the shine to my sun. I love her always and forever.

For Halloween I plan to be a neon freak. I'm going to dress up in all neon and wear lots of glow sticks so that when it gets dark, I'll be very noticeable from far away. Just another example of rocket science from Abby Mangum.

The first Hoop Dreams practice is in the beginning of November. I am so excited, I'm almost losing it.

Life is good...

...but then again, I have a World Civ. quiz tomorrow.

♥  Abigail ♥

Swing Dance; Picture Day; Hoop Dreams

Every year, the middle school creates a program called Swing Team, or as we call it, Swing Dance. It's an optional thing where you can ask someone of  the opposite gender if they want to dance with you in Swing Dance. There are tryouts, practices, and a few performances. (Or is it just one?) Anyway, it's a big deal for the 6th graders. Here and there people are asking boys and girls if they would like to participate. During the Rocky Mountain football game where Tanner got hurt, I asked a 7th grader if he would do it with me. He said yes. This boy is in my ward, and his family is really good friends with mine. He's really tall (pretty much the same height as me...surprising, right?). 

As we all stand in line, our legs are shaking; well, at least mine are. We are in alphabetical order, which means I'll go halfway through. As I get closer to the camera, the seat, the lady who takes your form, I start asking everyone around me, "Do I look okay?" Now, it may be pretty ridiculous fretting about a picture, but this picture will go on my activity card...permanently. I fix my hair quickly, and when the photographer tells me to sit in the seat with my shoulders square, my posture upright, I do just as he says, even though I usually slump when I sit. I try to keep my eyes from blinking, but the bright flash--even with an umbrella covering the flash--is too strong. I blink. I begin to panic, wondering if my picture has me blinking, or semi. In pictures past, I've always been to known to have one eye bigger than the other from the flash. I anxiously await my activity card, tingling inside. Finally, it prints; I stare at the picture...and smile. It was the best picture I'd had since kindergarten. My hair looked straight, my smile looked good, despite the ugly crooked teeth, my posture looked fine, and my eyes were the same size!!! I was overjoyed. Other girls didn't like their pictures, but I was very proud of mine. No retakes for me!

It was a warm September day, just a week and a half until the first day of fall. It had been a long day at  school, it had been a long game with Tanner's injury (read my previous post), and now we were home, drowning our sorrows into ice cream. Remembering the Hoop Dreams tryouts, I jump into the brown stool, quickly go to the website, and find the teams. I made it. But as I looked closer, I saw that everyone had made it, which means an 18-player team. I got confused. After some conversations with the staff, I learned that as the season progresses, they'll place nine in an Advanced Travel Team and the other nine in a development team. It's also possible that I could move up to the 7th grade team if I did good enough. Practices haven't started, but I am so excited to start!

Swing Dance, good-looking pictures, and Hoop Dreams, here I come.

♥ Abigail ♥

Those Delicate Bones

Emma and I drove excitedly over to the high school. We were almost falling out of our seats, for we were so ecstatic for tonight's football game, especially this one. We were against our arch rivals, Rocky Mountain, a high school just down the road from our beloved school. Since my brother, Tanner, is the quarterback, these types of games were important to my family.

We got to the stadium early to claim good seats. We weren't going to be watching, because all the middle schoolers gather somewhere other than the bleachers, but Emma's father was determined to grab a seat before there wouldn't be any at all; after all, tonight would be packed. Home games were always packed.

I was impressed to see the large amount of 6th graders coming to the game. Back at Timberline, I was the only 11-year-old to come support the team. There was nothing to do except watch the game, so I was never pleased whenever I heard, "We're going to Tanner's football game tonight." Now, if I hear that, I perk up and get very excited. Everything is always better when you're doing it with friends.

Emma and I watched the kickoff, and then ran off to say "hi" to the many friends that were just now arriving. We hung out beneath the bleachers and didn't pay much attention to the game. We were so engrossed in our conversations that we didn't know or hear absolutely anything that happened on the field.

At the end of the first quarter I spotted Mom walking towards me. I merrily said "hello" to her and was about to introduce her to my friends when she whispered into my ear, "Tanner's hurt." That was the moment when all the glee and happiness inside drained out of me. I felt like crying all of a sudden.

"What happened?" I immediately asked.

"We think he broke his collar bone," Mom retorted. "We're all going to the ER right now, but we think you should stay here." I reluctantly agreed. Shortly after the brief conversation, I saw Tanner being wheeled out in one of those mobile carts. Mom hopped in and off they went. I cried to myself just then. Tanner's junior season: ruined.

Nothing seemed like fun for the rest of the night, although I did try to laugh and keep my spirits high. Soon I just had to go home and see how Tanner was, so right after the game our friends drove me home. Instead of worrying and fretting, I stared into space blankly, waiting for my family to get back.

Finally they came. Tanner wasn't in as much pain as he was before, but he still didn't feel all that well. It was confirmed that he had broken his collar bone. Our other friends brought ice cream over and before you knew it we were all in bed asleep. The day after that Tanner was already scheduled for surgery.

On Sunday morning I woke up alone. I was to be picked up by our neighbors to go to church. I worried about Tanner for the three hours I was at church. I stayed with my neighbors all day until I walked home to  see Tanner sleeping peacefully. Then he started experiencing pain. Lots. Of. Pain.

Now it's almost been a week since the injury; Tanner is recovering well. It could be less than a month until he'll be lifting weights and throwing again, which is a very quick recovery. I am so grateful that my brother is okay, and that he has NEXT YEAR to set/break records.

God works in strange ways, and this is just one of them.

♥ Abigail ♥

These are the times when my knees buckle.

I tremble as the bus nears my stop. I'm standing in skinny jeans, a BYU jacket, a pink tank top with navy blue stripes, and a navy blue long-sleeved shirt underneath. I grip my small backpack that's stuffed with unnecessary school supplies tightly. The bus is coming closer and closer. I stand next to my neighbor, Olivia, who is also going into 6th grade, and we both wait with our legs shaking and our teeth clenched. We are both more nervous than we ever thought we'd be. Finally the big yellow vehicle stops with a noisy screech right in front of the curb. While the others at the stop run after the door, Olivia and I slowly make our way into the old gray seats. We sit next to each other and stare out the window. 

"Are you nervous?" Olivia asks as she takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, are you?" I reply.

"Uh-huh."

"I'm worried that I'll mess up my combo, or the food will be disgusting and I'll starve, or that I'll forget something, or that my teachers will be rude," I explain admittedly. 

"Same here."

Shortly after, the bus driver pushes on the brake with all his might and we make a hard stop right in front of the doors leading to the 6th grade hallway. We jump off the bus and trot inside, our stomachs suddenly lurching with butterflies. We meander towards our lockers (Olivia's is far from mine) and put all our supplies in them. Then we greet our teachers and sit at any desk. I sit next to quite a few people. Since I don't move at all for three periods and homeroom, I watch as people come and go. I take a seat next to someone different every period. I made a few new friends, but really it wasn't much of a social day for me.

The morning lags on. Mrs. Walling is explaining the locker rules, and we're all desperately trying to fill out all the papers she's handed us. Finally it's time for lunch. I put my binder in my locker (more like shove it in) and head to lunch with my homeroom class (otherwise known as my advisory class). Since I forget to bring a sack lunch, I snatch a slice of pizza from the cafeteria, a bottle of chocolate milk, and a few other foods, I sit down next to a few girls who I know from my elementary school and begin eating. It isn't terrible pizza at all; I would prefer something better, though. I finish my lunch and walk outside with Savanna who is in the class next door to me for her morning periods. All we do is walk around; there is nothing else.

After talking with almost everyone from the whole 6th grade, the bell rings and we all make our way to class. Now I'm with Mrs. Williams for two periods. We do a scavenger hunt where I finally get to sneak away and talk with my 7th grade friends. I truly wish they would let us hang out with them and not keep the youngest students away from the older grades. We go back to class, invest ourselves with large amounts of Jolly Ranchers, and figure out the last two periods.

My seventh period is with Mr. Slayden, one of the two gym teachers. All we do is sort ourselves out and go over the rules like all the other classes. Then a few students and I rush up the stairs to the seventh grade hallway where I will attend a keyboarding class with Mrs. Long. Finally school ends at 2:35. I sprint to my locker, grab my belongings, and I'm out the door towards bus number 407.

Olivia and I meet up at the bus. We had separate classes the whole day, but we saw each other now and then. Luckily we are some of the first people to be dropped off; we're through the front door before 3:00. Now I'm home, exhausted and wanting to go to bed.

Things I would change after experiencing this first day of middle school? The food, the privileges of who you can and can't hang out with, the teachers, the size of the lockers, and the schedule. 

But I did enjoy the boys...

 ♥ Abigail ♥

The Joy of Basketball

Every day this summer I've woken up to the skies blue and cloudless. I throw on sweats and a  jacket, grab a women's basketball  (28.5), raise the 20-year-old basketball hoop to ten feet, and begin shooting as I please. Three pointers, lay-ups, bank shots, free throws. For at least an hour a day I practice my form, my dribbling, and my defense. Why am I practicing so hard when I could be relaxing inside the air conditioned house? 

Perfect shooting, tricky dribbling, high-end coaching, talented players. Hoop Dreams Basketball Club is where your future basketball career begins. It takes skill to make the team; if you want in you have to commit. You have to know the rules. You have to practice regularly. With some of the best coaches in the valley, you must be willing, obedient, confident. If you really know how to play basketball, try out for Hoop Dreams on Friday, August 27th, 2010.

So why am I putting in so much time for practice? Now you know. Almost every day this summer I have jumped off the couch and practiced with an old basketball in my driveway. I want to make a very competitive team with some outstanding coaches in less than a week. I want to play on a team where every player is talented, where your weaknesses can be strengthened with professional help. I know it will help me in my future; I am hoping to become a professional basketball player. 

Basketball is like a second life. It's a simple sport that takes almost no talent, just a basket and an arm, any type of arm. It's something you can do by yourself when you're bored or need something to do. It's a goal I want to pursue later in life, so why not start now?

Starting basketball early is better than beginning late. You can learn the techniques at a young stage; you'll have more coordination later in your career. Just knowing how to dribble without staring at the ball is a huge sign of progress. These skills will help you until the end.

It's only the beginning.

ABIGAIL