12 Random Facts About Me

In an attempt to make my blog more personal, check out the list below of random facts about me!

1. I’m the youngest child of four, resulting in me being infinitely spoiled by my grandparents as a child and having to learn from my parents at a young age that I, in fact, cannot get everything that I want.
2. Speaking of being the youngest, I always joke about getting the hand-me-down genetics.  To an extent though, I truly do believe it.  I’m only 5 foot half an inch, and I stopped growing in 8th grade.  My two brothers (the oldest two siblings) are both over 6 foot and my older sister is inches taller than me.  So, hand-me-down genetics, right?
3. Being the youngest influenced my parents to bless me with eight names.  Just kidding!  I only have four names but that still confuses everyone- one first name, two middle names, and my last name.  To make matters more confusing, I go by my second middle name.  How?  Two words- my grandma.  She was a saint and helped my parents with me when I was first born (remember, I’m the youngest so my parents were dealing with toddlers and a pre-teen) and she was really in love with the name “Emily,” so when push came to shove, my parents just threw that in after my other middle name because I was the last kid.  I have a hunch that as soon as I was born, my grandma immediately started calling me Emily and that’s how I became stuck with it.  It’s actually a pretty cool story.  Also to note, I have the same name as the royal toddler (Charlotte Elizabeth).  The only difference is the Emily vs. Diana as the second middle name, but I still think it’s pretty cool.
4. I started karate when I was 11.  Chugoku Kenpo Karate, a Japanese style, that literally means “Chinese secret science of the law of the fist and empty hand.”  Also, I was one step away from black belt (in my style, that means a three-striped brown belt) and didn’t move forward to my black belt only because of timing (I was in college, it was difficult to cram all of the testing into summers and holiday breaks).  But I’m very close with my sensei and she’s like a second mom to me.  She’s the first person in the first row on the left.
5. I have done other sports, too!  Karate was my first love, but running is a close second.  I did cross-country and track from middle school through college.  In fact, I just ran my first half-marathon in my hometown last weekend!
   

   

   Two hours and nineteen minutes later…

6. And that handsome man in that picture is my fiancé, who I met in college and have been dating for four years, engaged for two, and who I’m getting married to in just 17 short days!  And in reference to my names that I listed earlier, I told Kyle I was going to hyphenate as a joke to just continue the ridiculous length of my name.
7. Speaking of weddings, I have a kickass pair of heels that I splurged on (treat yo’ self!) but I actually HATE shoes.  I mean I love the heels that I got and I really am looking forward to wearing them, but I hate anything being on my feet, unless they’re sandals where my feet can breathe.  (This means I hate socks, too!). As a side note, when I say “splurge” I really only mean like $60, which is WAY better than what I spend on running shoes (~$100) but it still doesn’t sit well with me to spend that much on one thing.
8. I love walking and running and hiking and traveling to new places.  I’ve been to several states in the US, but I’ve also fortunately had opportunities to travel to England and Germany.  Next on my bucket list: Ireland, Italy, and Switzerland, hopefully!
   

   
9. Here’s a weird one for you that I’m sure not many people can relate to: I HATE cheese.  Absolutely hate it.  Hate the smell, hate the taste, hate the texture.  I’m un-American (my fiancé’s words, not mine).  I’m not sure what happened.  I used to love Mac and cheese as a kid, along with cheesy pizza, but something clicked one day and I gagged when I bit into a previously thought delicious slice of Papa John’s pizza.  To the people who love cheese but cannot have it due to their digestive systems, I’m the worst, and I apologize for my un-Americanness.
10. Speaking of weird things, I have an irrational fear of…..water.  Yep, you read that right.  Whenever I go into a pool, or an ocean, I have to stay in a level where my feet can always touch the ground.  I know what you’re thinking- can you swim, can you tread water?  I can do both of those things.  However, for whatever reason, the moment I’m in a body of water that’s deeper than neck level, I freak out because that’s when I have to be on tippy toes and any further I feel like I’ll drown.  You guys probably think I’m so weird by this point.
11. But something that’s pretty cool and un-weird is my love for tattoos.  I love how the same designs (i.e. Harry Potter tattoos) can mean something completely different to another person, and I love how you can express what you’re feeling on your body.  I have two tattoos, and they’re both for my grandma on my dad’s side who passed away of lung/metastasized breast cancer.  She lived in Texas so I only met her a handful of times before she passed away, but she made a huge, positive impact on my life.  The first tattoo I got was a flower that was designed by my sister.  The second tattoo was from my favorite book, “Slaughterhouse-Five,” and it lists the famous quote, “So it goes…”  My sister and I got that one together in almost the same spot on our bodies.  She has also designed another tattoo from Slaughterhouse-Five with the quote “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt” in remembrance of my grandparents on my mom’s side (yes, the grandma who gave me my name).  But that is a story for another time.
12. Lastly before this post gets absurdly long, I clean when I’m upset.  Why?  I have no idea.  I supposed it relieves stress?  Any psychologists have any idea why I do this?

 

I’d love to learn about you!  Share a random fact (or several, if you wish), or even rant to me about my un-Americanness in the comments section.  I look forward to reading them!

Storytelling Saturday: The Letter

Foreword: Yes, it is definitely Sunday and not Saturday. This is the first and last time that I’ll miss a day. I didn’t manage my time too well yesterday, so I apologize for posting this a day late. This flash fiction story is inspired partly by my loving grandparents who were married for around 60 years (give or take a few) until my grandfather passed away in October of 2013 and partly by a beautiful story I heard earlier this week on the news about a woman finding an old love letter in a record store and reunited it with the man who wrote it.

 

Five months ago, I had no idea that finding a letter inside what was supposed to be an antique pocket watch would lead me across the country on a manhunt.  After many sleepless nights encouraged by enthralling research, I finally found the letter’s home.

I stood in front of a small brick house on a quiet street in town, holding the worn yellowed paper delicately in my hands.  The house was exactly as I had pictured.  It was the perfect size for two people, with dark shutters and newly renovated white porch. I took several steps onto the porch and hit my knuckles off the wood three times just loud enough for someone inside to hear.

Only moments after did the door open revealing a woman close to my age.  With a bright smile playing on her lips, she stood aside and held the door open so I could walk in.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said softly. “I’m excited to have finally found your grandmother after all this time.”

“I’m just fortunate that you’ve reached out for us instead of throwing it away,” the woman said as she closed the door and led me into the sitting room.  “My grandmother is laying down.  Have a seat and I’ll be right back with her.”

As the woman excused herself, I examined the photos displayed in various locations around the room from my spot on the sofa.  Many of them were smiling children, although a few were of a couple in various times of their lives.  I glanced toward the entryway when I heard the floor creak and quiet whispering approaching.

“Grandma,” the younger woman said as she helped the older woman into a recliner across from me, “this is the woman who found pappy’s letter.”

Immediately I saw the older woman’s eyes glisten with love.  “There’s no reason for us to be strangers. I’m Betty. What’s your name, sweety?”

“Vanessa.”  I smiled at the older woman as I took in her appearance.  She sat with her ankles crossed and her hands folded on her lap. Her curly gray hair sat in place on the top of her head while numerous wrinkled framed her face. Her green eyes were alive with excitement as she glanced down at the paper in my hand.  I cleared my throat and walked the few steps over to her and extended my hands to her, welcoming her to take the letter from me.  “I found this in what I thought to be an old pocket watch in my hometown antique store.  I opened it while I was still at the store and found this letter folded up inside. I knew immediately that I had to return it to its rightful owner.

I paused when I saw the woman’s eyes fill up with tears.  She read the letter and, after a few moments, managed to choke out a response.  “I forgot he wrote me this letter. You have made an old woman so happy. Thank you for bringing my Robert back to me.”

Before leaving, I gave Betty a hug and then passed along my information to the granddaughter.

“We’ll be sure to keep in touch,” the granddaughter said as she held open the front door.  “Thank you again for bringing so much joy back into my grandmother’s life.  I could see just from her reading the letter how much she loved my pappy.”

“I’m happy to have been the one who found it.”  I exited the house and with one last wave I walked toward the cab idling at the end of the sidewalk.

After giving the airport address to the cab driver, I began daydreaming about the last few lines of the letter:

“I know I’ve told you this many times when we’re together, but when we’re apart I realize how much I miss you being in my arms.  I can never thank you enough for always taking great care of me and for loving me for as long as you have.  I can’t wait to be home. 

Loving you always,

Robert”

I watched cars passing us by from my backseat window as I repeated the last lines in my head.  I stared down at my bare left hand and silently wished that I could find someone who loves me just as much Robert and Betty loved each other.