Mush is my sister. (Mush rhymes with rush, not bush. And it's definitely not pronounced "moosh".) She was birthed when I was 5, and we've been friendly ever since. (this blog is based solely on a few photos I have on my work computer, so it's going to be a scattered and brief overview).We danced together for a long time. See if you can spot the Crompton sisters in this photo:
On the top of Mt. Whitney:
and in Catalina, before it caught on fire.She did a year of college at Agnes Scott, a small women's university in Georgia, before deciding she'd had enough of small women's universities in Georgia.
Mush wound up going to stunt school in Seattle, where she was trained in the art of falling off buildings, getting set on fire, car chasing, and hand-to-hand combat. Yes, it's true: my sister is a stuntwoman.
She came to LA and lived with me (+ 3 other girls)
for 6 months, doing odd stunt jobs & loading UPS trucks.Mush then landed herself a job working with the Marines out in 29 Palms. Her work entails roleplaying an insurgent in a mock Iraqi village; the Marines spend a couple weeks there before deploying to Iraq, and Mush spends her days stealthily setting off IEDs, getting shot at, and - wel
l, the latest was pulling off a pretty sweet bank robbery (went in normal, came out pregnant with 300k dinar).We have calf-flex-offs occasionally, the latest one occuring in a Chicago hotel room before our brother's wedding reception. She won that round.
I really like this girl.
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