Words To Live By

It's not how much you accomplish in life
that really counts,
but how much you give to other.

It's not how high you build your dreams
that makes a difference,
but how high your faith can climb.

It's not how many goals you reach,
but how many lives you touch.

It's not who you know that matters,
but who you are inside.

Believe in the impossible,
hold tight to the incredible,
and live each day to its fullest potential.
You can make a difference
in your world.

                                                                  ~ Rebecca Barlow Jordan ~

Ramblings about Shoes... And personalities.

I discovered today when I dug out my shoes from the depths of my closet that I had 12 pairs in there! Not counting my skates.  These are only nine of them.  

The top pair of shoes on this picture inspired this post. Last night they were quietly sitting beside Mom and Amy's dainty Sunday shoes and I suddenly thought of all the possibility of for shoes on my blog. 

These are all the flip flops that I own, I should have ranked them from left to right for favorite... But I didn't. 

These poor shoes are bound for... Well where ever the trash goes. The top pair is about three or four years old and were second hand... They are now very dead.  Well the sandals are too but... Yeah anyways, my mind is blank as to what I was planning on writing about the sandals so I shan't write anything about them. Other than the fact that they are doomed for the trashcan. 

These are my  snow and hiking boot/shoes, I've had a pair like, or at least similar, to the pair on the right ever since I remember, dunno what I'd do with out them. 

These shoes were a Yours Mine and Ours find, I've never worn them and they are currently residing in the box below awaiting... Um.. Something... Probably a tea party, or perhaps my wedding... If I decide not to be an old maid after all. If I do decide to be an old maid I shall be an eccentric one, who teaches school in shoes like these. 

And this picture is only here to prove that looks can be deceiving. This is the box that Brads black croc's came in. At one point in its life it held all of Yazz' stuff... At another point in its life...  Um, point 2, before the cat another words. It held all the random papers that a 15/16 year old girl collects. At another point in its life it held all my fish stuff. And now as I said before, it is holding my favoritest pair of shoes, I'm pretty sure that was its calling in the first place, it just had to go on a pretty long journey to come to its, well not final, but close to final, resting place.    

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Now for the moral of the story, or maybe this is the story and the moral comes later... Or something.
 How often do peoples shoes actually describe a persons personality? I mean, if you looked at the top picture and were told to decide what kind of person owned them would you have thought of a person like me?
 And if you were handed 500 to go buy a pair of shoes, what would you buy. Or  would you be a good frugal person and spend the money on something more needed. I have to confess that I would probably buy a pair of pretty nice shoes and spend the rest on something else. You see, I have this horrible weakness for shoes... I think I would rather have a new pair of shoes than a new dress... Actually, I know I would. It's one of those things that make my friends look at me and wonder if I'm serious or not.
 Like noticing hands. I can pretty much promise that if I've seen you I've noticed your hands. Now depending on who you are I can't promise that I remember, but I did notice at one point.
 Same with shoes... I probably noticed yours.
 So back to my first point. Can shoes really tell a person's personality? Or do they, like the pink shoe box... tend to be rather deceiving?
 

"Eeyore was saying to himself, "This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it."

I, for one, do not agree with Eeyore. Perhaps it was because he was a vegetarian... Maybe all those thistles made him prickly, whatever the case, Eeyore, I regret to say, was wrong. There is something in  this "writing
business", words...

 I have this odd habit. When I read a book I nearly always see what the first word of the book was and decide whether or not it fits well with the last word in the book. Someday I'm going to write a book that begins with Sunrise and ends with Sunset. And another that begins with Spring and ends with Autumn,  not fall as if something large is crashing to the ground, but Autumn as if something beautiful is metamorphosing into something just as beautiful. I shall write a book that begins with In and ends with Out. "In the beginning". "On its way out". I will be known throughout librarydom not only for what is in-between the beginning and ending words of my books, but for the beginning and ending words themselves. I don't think authors spend nearly enough time, if any, thinking about that important part of writing.

And I suppose since I have aired my views on this you are all going begin looking at the the beginning and ending words of my posts. Forget it. I'm talking about books, and short stories, and poems. Not blog posts.

 And speaking of blog posts. Whoever thought of the word blog should have thought for a while longer... It rhymes with smog, and bog, and log... All very post inspiring words I must say! Face Book though, I have to admit is worse... What do you think of when you think about the words Face Book? I think of a book, with a face on the front of it, or a book shaped like a head, and when you open the book up the pages are all oddly shaped. That, I'm afraid, is even less inspiring when it comes to writing than the word "blog" is, perhaps that's why face book tends to contain so much nonsense. The words "blog" and "xanga" at least inspire the imagination!  

Snowmobiling

Lance and I went snowmobiling with Tim and Charity  yesterday... SO much fun! :) 

Lance's

Tim's, he rented one for the day. Lance and Tim and Caleb ended up snowmobiling all afternoon and evening, after they got rid of Charity and I. :) 

Um... Mine, but it died, Chari and I ended up riding behind our brothers.

Ready to go.  

All but Lance, he had to fix his helmet. I put one on for the first time yesterday, those thing are heavy! But they sure are warm, well worth it I'd say. 

Mary's Boy Child 

Long time ago in Bethlehem,
So the Holy Bible say,
Mary's boy child, Jesus Christ,
Was born on Christmas day.
 

Hark now, hear the angels sing,
A new king born today,
And man will live forever more,
Because of Christmas Day.
 

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
They see a bright new shining star,
They hear a choir singing,
The music seemed to come from afar.
 

 Now Joseph and his wife Mary,
Come to Bethlehem that night,
They find no place to born her child,
Not a single room was in sight. 

By and by they find a little nook
In a stable all forlorn,
And in a manger cold and dark,
Mary's little child was born.

Hark now hear the angels sing,
A new king born today,
And man will live forever more,
Because of Christmas Day.

Trumpets sound and angels sing,
Listen to what they say,
That man will live forever more,
Because of Christmas Day.

Brother of the Son

Brother Of The Son
Don Francisco
Jesus, all I want to do is follow,
And give away the love You give to me,
To shine a light in someone else's darkness,
To say the words they need to hear to set them free.

Take this heart of stone and make it over,
For all my life it's all I have to give,
Fill it with your love and understanding,
Show me how to feel and how to live.
 

When at last the Book of Life is opened,
And accounts of all Your servants have been shown,
Lord, let me bring somebody with me,
And stand with all my friends before the throne.

 

Father, let your Spirit flow inside me
Till all that will not praise You is undone
Help me keep my feet upon the highway
And grow to be a brother of the Son.