Darn the first entry -- THE BOOTS.
I hope to, years from now, sift back through the archives to view the very first entry of this blog. And most likely, I'll be disappointed because reading things that you've personally written aren't quite the same as reading what someone else wrote.
Just like coffee and salad always taste better when someone else makes it. It's one of those worldly mysteries that not even Nancy Drew could figure out.
I'm starting this blog in lieu of my old web site which is now defunct because the whole economy is going somewhere in a handbasket. But this [free!] alternative gives me one great place to post everything and anything I want, combining my old blogs, SmallTownSoup.blogspot.com and OutdoorMama.blogspot.com.
But to put something of substance in this first entry of this new blog, I thought I'd tell a bit about the boots you see in the logo. This photo was taken before Annie was big enough to wear shoes, so there's only two little boots following mine.
Toby's and Ellen's are self-explanatory, but my boots, my dear, dear boots, are something special.
I bought those boots in 1995. They have been all over the United States and Australia. They have walked through deserts, rivers, over mountains, and through coal mines hundreds of feet below the ground. They have smelled so bad that we had to keep them outside the tent at night, and they've been worn so hard that they've been resoled. Twice.
I love my boots, as smelly as they are, so much that I wanted to wear them under my wedding dress but I didn't because of the obvious odor. But it would have been quite fitting because I fell in love with my husband while wearing them. (And he still married me!)
These boots have lead me all over the world and essentially, into love. And now that I'm a mom, they lead my children too. They lead us around the woods in our backyard, and someday they'll lead us all around the world.
And hopefully, they'll lead my children into loving the outdoors as much as I do.
I realize that's a lot for a pair of boots to live up to, but judging by their record, they should have no problem.
Just like coffee and salad always taste better when someone else makes it. It's one of those worldly mysteries that not even Nancy Drew could figure out.
I'm starting this blog in lieu of my old web site which is now defunct because the whole economy is going somewhere in a handbasket. But this [free!] alternative gives me one great place to post everything and anything I want, combining my old blogs, SmallTownSoup.blogspot.com and OutdoorMama.blogspot.com.
But to put something of substance in this first entry of this new blog, I thought I'd tell a bit about the boots you see in the logo. This photo was taken before Annie was big enough to wear shoes, so there's only two little boots following mine.
Toby's and Ellen's are self-explanatory, but my boots, my dear, dear boots, are something special.
I bought those boots in 1995. They have been all over the United States and Australia. They have walked through deserts, rivers, over mountains, and through coal mines hundreds of feet below the ground. They have smelled so bad that we had to keep them outside the tent at night, and they've been worn so hard that they've been resoled. Twice.
I love my boots, as smelly as they are, so much that I wanted to wear them under my wedding dress but I didn't because of the obvious odor. But it would have been quite fitting because I fell in love with my husband while wearing them. (And he still married me!)
These boots have lead me all over the world and essentially, into love. And now that I'm a mom, they lead my children too. They lead us around the woods in our backyard, and someday they'll lead us all around the world.
And hopefully, they'll lead my children into loving the outdoors as much as I do.
I realize that's a lot for a pair of boots to live up to, but judging by their record, they should have no problem.
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