My Life Story * One Day At a Time * Day 3

What was your favorite radio program?

I didn’t have a favorite radio program. I would like to know my grandparents’ answers to that question, but as for me, I am really just too young. Much too young. Like, "by the time I was born, radio had been rendered all but obsolete" kind of young. (I thought I would make that clear in the event that you've failed to notice the particularly youthful glow that emanates from me on a regular basis.) I will say this though: Many a Saturday was spent in my room making “mix tapes” (and no, not for any particularly "special boys"…surprisingly enough...they were just for me.) from a radio station that I can only guess to be something in the category of B98.7. (Yes, I was unspeakably cool in the elementary school days.)

Oh, and I also really loved the “Little Orphan Annie” radio program on “A Christmas Story." That has to count for something, right?

Tell about any sports you played in Jr. High and High School.

Oh no! This is a tough one. The short answer is: I DIDN’T play any sports in Jr. High and High school. The long answer is that: due to the fact that the invasion of my personal space that always occurred while playing basketball made me want to punch somebody’s lights out, and since volleyball hurt my delicate little wristies and usually resulted in me hitting the ball into a brick wall, my own face, or the face of some poor, unsuspecting P.E. mate, and since girls weren’t invited to play football (the only sport I TRULY loved to play as a kid) and since our school didn’t have any soccer programs (the only sport I wanted to play so bad that it hurt), and since being on a soft ball team required me to have short hair, an angry heart, and a general (and non-negotiable) hatred of lip gloss, pillow fights, and cheerleaders… I opted NOT to play sports. I’ve never regretted this decision. I had to stay true to my love of lip gloss, pillow fights, and cheerleading at all costs. That’s not to say that all softball teams hate lip gloss, pillow fights, and cheerleaders, but 99.9% of our HS softball team (okay, AND basketball team) seemed to.

I loved playing tackle football in our back yard in Monroe though. I loved strategizing and planning. It was the best of natural highs when your totally crazy, “one-in-a-million” schemes paid off in a touchdown. Loved it. It probably had even more to do with being tackled by any number of my brother Bryan’s cute friends (all of whom I was hopelessly in 10-year-old love with).

And, in soccer tangents, I once attended my cousin Lizzi’s “Homecoming Soccer Game” in Highlands Ranch Colorado, and they announced their homecoming royalty after the game. They called the name of one of the soccer girls, and I don’t think I have ever been so jealous in my entire life. Not because she was in the homecoming royalty, but because she had a blonde braid as thick as a trunk running down her back, complete with huge eyes and clear skin that was the perfect shade of sun kissed brown. It left me wishing that our school had had a soccer program. Of course, it never occurred to me that the act of playing high school soccer would not magically transform me into a lean, mean, Anna Kournikova /Barbie hybrid. In reality, I would have been the scrawny, out of breath one with flushed cheeks and dull, brown, frizzy hair in a messy bun. I’ve never been a big fan of reality (especially reality that involves the physical appearance of yours truly during the high school years) but there it is.