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

Why I Love Homer Road

Five Reasons Why I Love Homer Road:

1. It's located in the foothills, one of my most favorite places on Earth.
2. There are some pretty massive houses up there.
3. It has pretty views.
4. It's far away from the hustles and bustles of the city.
5. It's a very secluded area.

"What started this obsession?" you might ask. Well, that cloudy morning when I discovered Homer Road I'd just run the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure with other members of our LDS ward. As my mother and I climbed into our car after running three miles, she turned on the engine, paused a second before she pressed on the gas, and said, "Let me show you what's above Beacon Light Road, Abby." 

"Um, okay," I reluctantly agreed. I just wanted to go home because I had woken up early that morning and I had just run three miles, which is a lot for me because I have bad endurance and stamina.

So we made the drive past the wonderful road of Beacon Light to a street called Homer Road. At first I wasn't impressed; all I could see was a little blue house sitting there like it hadn't been lived in for years. I was thinking, "THIS is what Mom wanted to show me?" Then we started driving farther down the road until we approached a monster house. There were four kids out playing with their 4-wheelers. I later learned from my friend Savanna that there was a girl my age who made a living in that house. Anyway, my mother and I ventured up the hill in our little white Lexus and saw some beautiful houses. Finally we reached the end, and there was an even bigger house sitting there. There were two kids outside, and as I looked closer, I realized it was my friend Marin from school and her little brother. I was astonished. 

Mom and I made our way back to the flat road. We disobediently went up private streets to see some amazing homes until we reached the street that led to our home. And that's when I realized I was obsessed with a little place I call Homer Road.

Now, if you live in the area, you may have heard that there was a large fire in the hills, right where Homer is. It spread very quickly from Highway 16 (close to Emmett) towards Highway 55. Luckily it stopped not too far away from where it started. It got way back in the hills, though, too, so several homes up there were evacuated, including the amazing homes my mother and I had seen on that cloudy day. Only four homes burned down, but most of the spectacular homes stayed standing. I am grateful the fire didn't spread to where I live; the smoke was very high in the sky.

  

Here are some pictures from the fire:

A little place I call Homer Road...

...is still standing tall.

Stay strong, my friend.

♥ Abigail ♥