Three Days to See.rm Sometimes I thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize strongly the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a force and a strong interest of appreciation, which is often lost when the time is before us inflyff money the constant prospect of more days and months and years to come. There are, of course, who would Epicurean motto "Eat, drink and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death. In the stories condemned hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of luck, but almost always his sense of values is changed. He will always be grateful for the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It hasoften been noted that those who live or have lived in the shadow of death, a gentle sweetness to everything they do. Most of us, but life for us. We know that one day we must die, but usually we are at this day so far in the future. If we areMaple Story Mesos in good health, is death, but all inconceivable. We think it only rarely. The times, in an endless view. So we go about our small tasks that are hardly known to our listless attitude toward life. The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our abilities and senses. Only the deaf communicate, only blind people recognize the many blessings that are in the eyes. Above all, this statement applies to those who have lost eyesight and hearing in adulthood. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom use the full capabilities of these blessed. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It's the same old story, not grateful for what we have until we lose it, unaware of the health, until we are sick. I've often thought it would be a blessing if each human being stricken regions have been blind and deaf for a few days at some point during his early adulthood. Darkness would appreciate him more visibility; silence would tech him the joy of sound. From time to time I tested, my friends to see, to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed ... "Nothing particular," she replied. I would disbelieve, I was not accustomed to such lies, for a long time ago, I was convinced that the seeing see little. How was it possible, I asked myself, on foot for about an hour through the woods and see nothing worth mentioning? I can not see the hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I think the delicate symmetry MapleStory mesos of a leaf. I my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, Shaggy bark of a pine. In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter sleep. I think the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions, and something about the wonders of nature is for me. Occasionally, if I am very happy, my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted with the cool waters of a brook rush thought my finger open. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of the seasons is an exciting and endless drama, the action of the streams, through my fingertips. At times my heart cries with longing EverQuest 2 gold to see all these things. If I can be so much pleasure from mere touch, how much beauty must be out of sight. But those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of action, color and fills the world is for us. It is human, perhaps, something which we have too long for what we do not have, but it is very unfortunate that in the light of the world the gift of vision is seen as merely a convenience and not as a means of wealth of life. If I were the president of a university I should be a compulsory subject in "How to Use Your Eyes." The professor would try to show his pupils how they could be happy in their lives by really happened, what is before them unnoticed. He would try to awake their dormant and slowly faculties. Perhaps I can best illustrate the idea that what I most like to see if I understand it for the use of my eyes, say, only foreq2 plat three days. And if I have the idea that you also use your mind to work on the problem, how would your own eyes, if you only had three days to see. If the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never again for you, would you like for those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your eyes rest on? Of course I should most wish to see the things that are me through my years of darkness. You also want to let your eyes on the things that are too expensive, so you could be the memory of them into the night, before that was before you. Christmas Morning.rm A light drizzle fell, as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, like at home and play with the presents, Santa had for us and our little sister, Sharon. Over the road from the church was a Pan American gas station, where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was Christmas, but I have a family Runescape gold outside the locked door, pushed under the narrow overhang in an attempt to dry. I wondered briefly why they were there, but then forget it, as I drove to work with Jill. If we are at home, there was hardly time for our presents. We had to go to our grandparents' house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we traveled the highway through town, I noticed that the family is still there, outside of the closed gas station. My father was a very slow drive the highway. The closer we get to the turn-off for my grandparents' house, the slower the car went. Suddenly, my father-U in the middle of the street and said: "I can not!" "What?" Asked my mother. "It is the people there again on the Pan Am, in the rain. They have children. It's Christmas. I can not." When my father went into the service station, I saw that there are five of them: the parents and three children - two girls and a little boy. My father rolled his window. "Merry Christmas," he said. "Howdy," the man replied. He was very big and had too little Stoop to peer into the car. Jill, Sharon, and I stared at the children, and they stared back at us. "They are waiting for the bus?" Asked my father. The man said that they were. They went to Birmingham, where he had a brother and the prospects for a job. "Well, the bus is not to come for a few hours, and you're wet standing here. Winborn is only a few miles on the road. They have a shed with a cover, and some benches," said my father. "Why y'all is not in the car and I run it." The man thought for a moment and then he waved to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they wore. Once they are in, my father looked back over the shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three Glum faces mutely gave him his answer. "Well, I do not think so," My father said, winking at my mother, "because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he had with difficulty to find, and he asked me if he could be your toy in my house. We do it before I started off at the bus stop. " All at once, the three children into his face lights up and she began to bounce around in the back, laugh and chat. When we are out of the car in our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that are under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied on Jill's Doll and hugged them immediately to their chest. I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon's ball And the other girls soRunescape money That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy that others happy. My mother found that the average child was wearing a short sleeved dress, so she gave the girls only Jill's sweater to wear. My father invited them to join us in our grandparents at Christmas dinner, but the parents refused. Even if we all tried to speak, they were companies in their decision. Back in the car, on the way to Winborn, my father asked the man if he money for the ticket. His brother had tickets, the man said. My father reached into his pocket and pulled two U.S. dollars, which was everything he had until his next payday. He pressed the money into the human hand. The man tried to back it, but my father insisted. "It is late, if you look for Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I broke before, and I know how it is when your family does not eat." We have them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I looked out the window as long as I could, looking back on the small gihugging her new doll.

Christmas Morning A light drizzle fell, as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, like at home and play with the presents, Santa had for us and our little sister, Sharon. Over the road from the church was a Pan American gas station, where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was Christmas, but I have a family outsideeve online the locked door, pushed under the narrow overhang in an attempt to dry. I wondered briefly why they were there, but then forget it, as I drove to work with Jill. If we are at home, there was hardly time for our presents. We had to go to our grandparents' house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we traveled the highway through town, I noticed that the family is still there, outside of the closed gas station. My father was a very slow drive the highway. The closer we get to the turn-off for my grandparents' house, the slower the car went. Suddenly, my father-U in the middle of the street and said: "I can not!" "What?" Asked my mother. "It is the people there again on the Pan Am, in the rain. They have children. It's Christmas. I can not." When my father went into the servicehellgate london palladium station, I saw that there are five of them: the parents and three children - two girls and a little boy. My father rolled his window. "Merry Christmas," he said. "Howdy," the man replied. He was very big and had too little Stoop to peer into the car. Jill, Sharon, and I stared at the children, and they stared back at us. "They are waiting for the bus?" Asked my father. The man said that they were. They went to Birmingham, where he had a brother and the prospects for a job. "Well, the bus is not to come for a few hours, and you're wet standing here. Winborn is only a few miles on the road. They have a shed with a cover, and some benches," said my father. "Why y'all is not in the carHellgate London and I run it." The man thought for a moment and then he waved to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they wore. Once they are in, my father looked back over the shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three Glum faces mutely gave him his answer. "Well, I do not think so," My father said, winking at my mother, "because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he had with difficulty to find, and he asked me if he could be your toy in my house. We do it before I started off at the bus stop. " All at once, the three children into his face lights up and she began to bounce around in the back, laugh and chat. When we are out of the car in our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that are under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied on Jill's Doll and hugged them immediately to their chest. I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon's ball And the other girls something from me. All this happened a long time ago, but the memory of it remains clear. That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy that others happy. My mother found that the average child was wearing a short sleeved dress, so she gave the girls only Jill's sweater to wear. My father invited them to join us in our grandparents at Christmas dinner, but the parents refused. Even if we all tried to speak, they were companies in their decision. Back in the car, on the way to Winborn, my father asked the man if he money for the ticket. His brother had tickets, the man said. My father reached into his pocket and pulled two U.S. dollars, which was everything he had until his next payday. He pressed the money into the human hand. The man tried to back it, but my father insisted. "It is late, if you look for Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I broke before, and I know how it is when your family does not eat." We have them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I looked out the window as long as I could, looking back on the small gihugging her new doll A Love Letter gaia online gold not very good. I try to reason with this, and I end of feeling miserable. I can not help but think of you. You who has so much to give and share with me. Even when I was young, you were a constant value. They were there to see me grow. I cried and laugh, I have learned, and you were there for me. With the gray hair and glasses Chunky. I think you're watching and blued and you would suddenly smile LiDE your face as soon as they come. That's something I love you.You smile, I think about I will miss you. So many years have passed since I again. And for a moment to breath I do not in my life. I want to cry, but I knew you were there, as you always were.The gray hair has become white. And with this came a wiry frame, is very weak. Still, the eyes and was always that was a good run. She has taught me to be strong and live for my dreams. If you wishes for the hunger for knowledge. She has taught me to love learning. Always tell me that knowledge is constantly thing. They were so strong, so wise, and your presence was always comfort. I love it, always at your side. They always gave me a hug when gaia gold I fell. I never love quantities and always to understand that not pressure me to jion in the other, or act as a good time.I lost the books you read to me. These books, which I would like to learn more about the world. Always remember it after the things that you sent me. You always love books. They never said much, but I always knew that every time we saw each other. They were glad to see me, as I always glad to see you. I remember you with teary face and smile wasteful. My pain is more insistant and try to hold on to the hope that this move. Like the strong person you were. I love you Grandpa.

My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best players of stringed instrument in our city. He could not read music, but when he heard a melody a few times, he could play it. When he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. It would at the local dances and on a few occasions would play for local radio stations. He told us how often he 2) Consultation and deserves a position in a band, the Featured Patsy Cline as lead singer. He said that the family after he was he never returned. Dad was a very religious man. He stated that there is a lot to drink and cursing the day of his audition and he did not order this type of environment. Occasionally, Dad would play his mandolin and for the whole family. We three children: Trisha, Monte and I, George Jr., often sing along. Songs like the Tennessee Waltz, Harbor Lights and around Christmas, the famous 3) rendition of Silver Bells. "Silver Bells, Silver Bells, Christmas time in the City" would ring throughout the house. One of Dad's favorite 4) hymns was "The Old Rugged Cross."wow gold We have the words of the anthem, when we were very young, and they sing with Dad when he play and sing. Another song that was often shared in our house was a song that accompanied the Walt Disney series: Davey Crockett. Dad had only to hear the song twice, before he learned it well enough to play. "Davey, Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier" was a favorite song for the family. He knew that we enjoyed the song and the program and would often mandolin after the program was. I could never, as he could play the songs so well, only after hearing it a few times. I loved to sing, but I've never learned how to play the mandolin. That's something I regret to this day. Father loved to play the mandolin for his family, he knew that we sing, and hear him play. He was so. If he could, joy, others wow gold that he would, especially his family. He was always there, sacrificing his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their lives. I had to mature into a man and have children of my own before I realized how much he sacrificed. I am grateful to the United States Air Force in January 1962. Whenever I come home on leave, I would ask Dad to the mandolin. Nobody played the mandolin, as my father. He could touch your soul with the sounds that you made that old mandolin. He seemed to shine when he plays. You could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family. When dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. His father was a farmer and 5) sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. In 1950, our family from the farm. Dad was the job at the local 6) Limestone 7) quarry. When the quarry closed in August 1957, he had to seek other employment. He wow power leveling worked for the Owens Yacht Company in Dundalk, Maryland and Todd Steel in Point of Rocks, Maryland. While working on Todd Steel, he was involved in an accident. His task was to iron roll angle to 8), so that the conveyor-9) welder further production would have to their jobs. On this day, Dad has the third finger of his left hand crushed between two steel. The doctor, on the fingers could not save, and Dad at the end with the tip of the finger 10) amputated. He did not lose enough with your finger, where it picked up everything, but it has an impact his ability to play the mandolin. After the accident, Dad was restrained to the mandolin. He felt that he could not play as well as before the accident. When I came home on leave and asked him, he would play for excuses for why he did not play. Finally, we would be 11) have it, and he would say, "Okay, but remember, I can not contact the strings, as I used to" or "Since the accident on these fingers I can not play so well." For the family, it makes no difference to the fact that Dad will not play. We were just glad that he would play. If the old mandolin he would come back in a joyful, happy time in our lives. "Davey, Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier", would again be heard in the small town of Bakerton, West Virginia. In August 1993 my father was 12) diagnosed 13) inoperable lung cancer. He chose not to get 14) chemotherapy treatments, so that he could live the rest of his life in dignity. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for us. He made excuses, but said "okay". He knew it was probably the last time he would play for us. He 15) matched the old mandolin and played a few notes. When I looked around, it was not a dry eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet, humble man with an inner strength from knowing God and living with him in a life. Papa would never play the mandolin for us again. We felt at the time that he did not have enough energy to play, and that makes the memory of this day even more. Dad was doing something he had done all his life, was. As sick as he was, he was still encouraging others. Dad sure could play the mandolin! A lady in a weak gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a House appropriations threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment in the President of the Harvard outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that these Backwoods country folk world of warcraft gold are not yet at the Harvard Business, and probably does not even deserve to be in Cambridge. You frowned. "We want the president," said the man quietly. "He will be busy all day," the secretary tear. "We wait," replied the woman. For hours the secretary ignored in the hope that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They did not. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president. "Maybe if they only see you for a few minutes, they leave," she told him. He signed into despair and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously did not have the time to cheap wow gold spend with Nobodies, but he detested gingham and adjusts simply confusing his office. The president, stern-with dignity, strutted on the couple. The woman told him: "We had a son, that at Harvard for a year. He loved Harvard, and was very happy here. But he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him somewhere on the campus. "The president was not touched, and she was shocked," Madam, "he said gruffly," we can not be a statue for every person who, at Harvard and died, this place would be like a cemetery. "Oh, no," the woman quickly explained: "We do not want the establishment of a statue. We thought we would a building to Harvard." The president rolled his eyes. He looked at the gingham dress and House Appropriations suit, and then cried: "A house! Have you and idea of an earthly building, how much does it cost? We have over a period of seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard. For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased. He was one of them now. The woman turned to her husband and said quietly. "Is it that all costs to a university?" Her husband nodded. The President Wilted face in confusion world of warcraft gold and bewilderment. Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford went away, a trip to Palo Alto, California, where they established the university that bears the name ------- a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about. You can easily judge the character of others, how they deal with those who can do nothing for them or to them.

With a young and tender age, Patti Wilson was told by her doctor that she was an epileptic. Her father, Jim Wilson, is a morning jogger. One day she smiled through her braces and said: "Daddy, what I really like to do is with you every day, but I'm afraid I have a seizure." Her father told her: "If you do, I know how to handle it, so let's start!" That is exactly what they have every day. It was a wonderful experience for them to share, and there were no seizures, while kamas dofus it is running. After a few weeks, she told her father, "Dad, what I really love to do, the world's long-distance running record for women." Her father checked the Guinness Book of World Records and found that the farthest any woman had was 80 miles. As a freshman in high school, Patti announced, "I go to Orange County to San Francisco." (A distance of 400 miles.) "As a student," she continued, "I'm going to find Portland, Oregon." dofus kamas (More than 1500 miles.) "As a junior I'm in St. Louis." (Approx. 2000 miles) "As a senior I'll run the White House." (More than 3000 miles away.) With regard to their handicap, Patti was as ambitious as it was enthusiastic, but she said she looked at the disability, an epileptic as simply "a disadvantage." It focuses not on what they had lost, but on what they had left. This year, they run in San Francisco wearing a T-shirt reading "I Love epileptics." Her father ran each mile at her side, and her mother, a nurse, followed in a mobile home behind them in case anything went wrong. In their pupils year, Patti classmates behind her. They built a giant poster reading "Run, Patti, Run!" (This has since become her motto and the title of a book she has written.) On her second marathon, on the way to Portland, she fractured bones in her foot. A doctor told her to stop its course. He said: "I had a cast on the ankle so that you can not separate permanent damage." "Doc, you do not understand," she said. "This is not just a whim of mine, it's a magnificent obsession, I'm not only for me, I make it to the chains on the heads, which so many others. Is there any way I can ffxi gil run? "He gave her an option. He could be in the adhesive process, rather than in a cast. He warned them that it's incredibly painful, and he told her, "It will blister." She said the doctor, wrap it up. She completed the run to Portland, her last mile with the governor of Oregon. You may have to the headlines: "Super Runner, Patti Wilson at the end of the marathon for epilepsy on her 17th birthday." After four months of almost continuously from west coast to the East Coast, Patti arrived in Washington and shook the hand of the President of the United States. She told him, "I wanted people to know that epileptics are normal people with normal lives." I have this story at one of my seminars not long ago, and then a big teary eyes man came up to me, put his big beefy and said: "Mark, my name is Jim Wilson. You talked about my daughter, Patti. "Because of their noble efforts, he told me, enough money had been raised, by 19 to multi-million-dollar epileptic centers around the country. If Patti Wilson can be so much with so little, what can you do to be better in a state of total wellness? What did I for.rm Three passions, simple but strong majority of my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me here and there, in a wayward course over a great ocean of anguish, to the very verge of despair. I tried love, first, because he ecstasy - ecstasy so great that I often have to sacrifice the rest of your life for a few hours lotro gold of joy. I tried it, in the vicinity, because it relieves loneliness - the terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the edge of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I tried it finally, because in the union of love I've ever seen in a mystic miniature, the precursor vision of heaven that saints and poets imagine. That is what I was looking for, and though it also seems to be good for human life, this is what - at last - I have found. With equal passion I have sought knowledge. flyff penya I wanted to understand the hearts of the people. I wanted to know why the stars shine. And I've tried to understand the Pythagorean power by which number prevails over the river. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved. Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the sky. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes lotr gold of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, pain and makes a mockery of human life should be. I long to this evil, but I can not, and I too suffer. This was my life. I made it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the opportunity offered me.

The girl who taught the world to Weave


This is a story of the time when the earth first man fell. And in these days do not wear clothes because they do not know how to weave cloth.
One day, God Matai decided to teach the art of weaving to a person. The God taught a girl named Hambrumai. And what were the designs of the girls wove? She sat by the lake side and saw the waves and circles of water. They wove the ripple pattern on cloth.
They spent days in the woods looking at trees and the designs of their branches. She looked at patches of sky between branches and wove in all the designs on cloth. She saw the natural pattern very clearly, whether it be in the trees, water, flowers, or leaf. When she took the cloth they wove, it was as though they dressed in nature. She was beautiful. And many young men wanted to marry.
One day, Hairum, the porcupine, came to her cave to steal her cloth. When he tries to get inside the cave, he was a rock. The rock to the river, and crushed Hambrumai. Also broke the loom on which she used to weave cloth.
Parts of the Loom fell into the river. They have been through the water in its journey from the hills to the plains. Wherever people a part of the loom, she learned to weave. The Mishimis believe that the draft made Hambrumai was butterflies.
To this day, the patterns on butterflies' wings, the drafts of the girls. And people remember Hambrumai to this day as the girl who taught the world to weave.

It was so bitterly cold here in Pennsylvania.
I can not remember that in winter as cold as this, but I'm sure it got colder days.
Even if the daylight grow more seconds, it's easy to find an excuse not to go unless you absolutely, but I have bhen back often to get around things.
People I speak to have been in all kinds of nasty moods. They say they are "under the weather," feeling not good about this time of year.
There I stood with my two dogs yesterday, it was so cold that my nose and face felt crisp and my cars were stinging.
Of course, that does not matter to Ricky and Lucy. They have a routine they must go through to find just the spot to fight, no matter how cold or warm it is.
So I wait.
But this time it was different. As cold as it was, I was suddenly revived about how beautiful this extreme cold really was.
Then the sun broke through the clouds and the memory of the scorching hot summer days flashed through my mind. I could not forget standing in the heat of the afternoon, sweat pouring my forehead and the hot, burning sun againse my face. I reminded myself there and then that in the cold of winter, I would wish I had this heat.
I was right.
Two extremes in my life that most of the time, which I find uncomfortable, I usually fear and moan about everything by the way.
But today, I was grateful for them. Excluding the extremes in my life, I would never have the days when things were just right. Without the extreme life would be boring.
It is not pushed to the extremes, we estimate the center more. Health challenges remind us that we must pay more attention to how we live. Extreme Financial reminds us that when things are in more than it's time to Tuck away when times are lean.
To bring the cold, so I appreciate the heat more.
Make me sweat on a hot summer day so I wish I had a handful of snow on my face rub in.
I have come to the conclusion that all too often I find a reason not to be happy if I at this moment.
Whether hot or cold, or poor health, in cash or out of it, I have always wanted to be different.
But not anymore. I would like to begin looking for a reason to be happy where I am. Even if it is simply the fact that I'm alive.
I'm tired of that "Under the Weather!"

With a young and tender age, her doctor said that they Patti Wilson was an epileptic. Her father, Jim Wilson, is a morning jogger. One day she smiled through her braces and said: "Daddy, what I really like to do is with you every day, but I'm afraid I have a seizure." Her father told her: "If you do this, I know how to handle it, so let's start!" That is exactly what they have every day. It was a wonderful experience for them to share, and there were no seizures, whilewow gold it is running. After a few weeks, she told her father, "Dad, what I really love to do, the world's long-distance running record for women." Her father checked the Guinness Book of World Records and found that the farthest any woman had was 80 miles. As a freshman in high school, Patti announced, "I go to Orange County to San Francisco." (A distance of 400 miles.) "As a student," she continued, "I'm going to find Portland, Oregon." (More than 1500 miles.) "As a junior I'm in St. Louis." (Approx. 2000 miles) "As a senior I'll run the White House." (More than 3000 miles away.) With regard to their handicap, Patti was as ambitious as it was enthusiastic, but she said she looked at the disability, an epileptic as simply "abuy wow gold disadvantage." It focuses not on what they had lost, but on what they had left. This year, they run in San Francisco wearing a T-shirt reading "I Love epileptics." Her father ran each mile at her side, and her mother, a nurse, followed in a mobile home behind them in case anything went wrong. In their pupils year, Patti classmates behind her. They built a giant poster reading "Run, Patti, Run!" (This has since become her motto and the title of a book she has written.) On her second marathon, on the way to Portland, she fractured bones in her foot. A doctor told her to stop its course. He said: "I had a cast on the ankle so that you can not separate permanent damage." "Doc, you do not understand," she said. "This is not just a whim of mine, it's a magnificent obsession, I'm not only for me, I make wow power leveling it to the chains on the heads, which so many others. Is there any way I can run? "He gave her an option. He could be in the adhesive process, rather than in a cast. He warned them that it's incredibly painful, and he told her, "It will blister." She said the doctor, wrap it up. She completed the run to Portland, her last mile with the governor of Oregon. You may have to the headlines: "Super Runner, Patti Wilson at the end of the marathon for epilepsy on her 17th birthday." After four months of almost continuously from west coast to the East Coast, Patti arrived in Washington and shook the hand of the President of the United States. She told him, "I wanted people to know that epileptics are normal people with normal lives." CINDERELLA-the true story By Yvonne Augustin I am sure you have all heard the story of Cinderella. You know the beautiful girl with the two sisters means, step, and wicked wow gold step-mother. Now you already know the end, the beautiful girl who marries the beautiful prince, and they live happily ever after. Well, that was the fairy tale that is the true story. My name is Oscar, and I'm a mouse. I am not associated with Mickey, Minnie, Mighty, or, (although it is a small resemblance to that super-hero Mighty Mouse). I live in the attic in Cinderella's house. One can say that Cindy and I were roommates. When she was young, and her father still lived, we had a nice room in the basement. But after her father died, she was in the attic. I of course, because I knew it would be my company. And they need me. At first, she thought of me as just a common ordinary mouse. Night after night they throw me crumbs. (I thought it was very nice). Then one night, after her step-mother the door, she began to cry. I climbed on Cindy's lap. She spoke to me and gave me my name. I thought at the time, was a Nerdy name "Oscar", but I am used to it now. I even kind of like it. Every day, I saw Cindy working sooo hard. Finally one day, quite by chance, I found a way to help her. You see, her step-sisters were ordering her around, and they made her cry. Cindy cried a lot. (Did I never knew a girl could be so much water!). Anyway, I ran to Cindy and she saw me. Boy, you should have seen it clear the room!. Faster than a speeding bullet - it almost broke her neck when she ran screaming from the room. You have heard it! "Eeeek ... a mouse!", "Mother!", "Help !!!". Cindy and I laughed so hard. It was a really good time. Then was the time when I hid on a plate of food, for Cindy's step-mother. When she saw me, first she fainted, then she had three days of hysteria!. Three days of peace!, That was really nice!. The only other person who is not afraid ofwow gold me was Esmerelda. She was Cindy's Fairy God-mother. We called it Essien short. It appeared only on the day of the big ball. Poor Cindy were ragged waiting for the step-sisters, trying to do the impossible, and they .. not nice .. but only presentable. I mean, they were sooo ugly ... it was not skin deep, it was all the way to the bone!. Anyway, Cindy spoke to me in the garden, where such strange looking woman came through the gate. Most people think they are magical in a beautiful white light, but they are not. They went to the yard with a brown Foodtown shopping bag in his hand. I thought she was here for a hand-out. Cindy must have thought the same thing because they have a glass of milk and cookies. They did not look like a fairy tale God-mother, either. Their clothing was torn, her shoes had holes, and the hair ... Now, let's say I have a better hair-do on a horse, I have to know. I mean, this tale of mother God saw how they need a fairy god-mother. I was to say something like "Hit the road" when Essien Cindy asked why they do not prepare for the ball. Cindy told her she had no clothing or transportation. Good!, Faster than you could say, "the rat ate the cheese," the old woman comes in her pocket and pulls the most beautiful blue ball gown you've ever seen!. It was royal blue, with small white stars, and it was only Cindy size!. Then, she reached into her bag again and pulled out a white evening bag, a silver crown, and the famous glass slippers. (I had to get my head, while the unmentionables.) Cindy then said go, and go change their clothes, while she sees what can be done about the transport. I told her to call a taxi, but she said: "One does not lead to a King's palace in a taxi or rent a car!". Anyway, while I'm on the lookout for something to use, the girl goes into the pocket again and pulls a small cart. It was just about my size. You set it on the ground, and darned if the thing does not start to grow!. I voted for the cover. When the bus finally stopped growing, it was exactly the right thing for Cindy. The wonders of modern science! Right then Essien called me, and .. like a dumb-dumb, I did. Before I knew what I was, I had four hooves and a tail. Seeing my alarm, Essien assured me it was only temporary. I have nothing against it, a small sacrifice for the cause (but I hate oats!). At this point, Cindy appeared, and she was looking hot!. (I even tried to whistle, but it came a whinny). Cindy has over the bus and then we all realized the girl had forgotten one thing ... Driver. So she grabbed a frog hopping through the garden, and placed him in a driver. If you ask me, we have a lot of time if they just made him a prince instead. You are always there, that in other tales, but noooooo, we had things the hard way. Cindy was a smash at the ball. The prince was quite enthusiastic. At midnight, they went to a cold drink of lemonade when Cindy's dress to come apart. Good!, It did not take a genius to figure out that they prefer you. So she took out with the prince on their way. . Fortunately, he was clumsy, and he stumbled. That Cindy had just enough time to jump on the bus and leave the park. About half-way home the coach shrank so small that Cindy had to get out and go. It was then when she realized she had lost a shoe. Hobbling home on a shoe is not a joke!. All night long, Cindy talked about the prince, the ball, and had a great time. It was like her tongue stuck by a phonograph needle. Finally, Essien and left about 4:30, mumbling something about creating a monster. Cindy wore around clock at 6.00. It was a good thing, the "steps" slept late morning, Cindy or not all have to sleep all!. Later that afternoon, the word came about the cheese-wine. The prince would be a search for the love of his life tomorrow. He was in love at the ball last night with a young lady he knew only by a slipper she left behind. I was so excited to hear this news, I went immediately to say, Cindy. I must say, she has the good news. With just a "Oh, it's nice to hear," she went back to their work. (I was expecting at least one jump for joy!) The next day, the prince came to our house and the "steps" (including her mother!), The all tried to adapt their size 10 feet in these slippers size 4. It is a wonder that the poor do not break slippers!. Cindy was locked in the garden and had no chance to try on the slipper. That is when I turn the day. When the prince in his coach, I ran under the horses hooves. The animals were so stupid, afraid of a little mouse, she just ran through the garden gate, nearly trampling Cindy in the process. It is a good thing that the girl is the light on your feet!. The prince was so apologetic it at least ten minutes before he realized the girl had not tried on the slipper. Well ... We all know the end. She tried it on, it fits like a glove, and they lived happily ever after. So that the next time you hear the story of Cinderella, remember, you heard the real story here first ... a little gray mouse named Oscar.