I grew up in a family where each of its members could be defined by a specific quote or amusing statement that he or she made that encompassed the core of his or hers personality. Where my mother “was always right,” and “nothing was ever my [sister’s] fault,” my quote would become the definition of Sierra. Although I have several ridiculous quotes that haunt me at family reunions and parent teacher conferences, a particular quote that has come to characterize me was first uttered in the August before my first grade year on my school supply shopping excursion at the Office Max: “Ah,” I said, as I inhaled the papery aroma, “I love the smell of supplies.” Notebooks, to be specific.