I have had a strong pull for a place to keep up with what goes on in my life.  I think with Mom’s Alzheimers and the paranoia that comes with that as the child of a person with the dreaded disease, the times I see my memory not doing what it should be doing, I’m afraid not to write things down.  I’ve told myself many times in my life, sometimes daily, to pull up my darn bootstraps and move on.  There’s just so much going on in life right now, for all of us, and I think even at my lowest low I could sort of suck it up if you will, reach down and pull up my bootstraps, dust myself off and get through it.  Yes, as I get older I find that it takes a little longer to find them (like it takes a little longer arms to read:).  Yes, I believe I have different pairs.  I have the ones that are all pretty and sparkly for those days when things are grand, when life is right, and I don’t have to pull as hard on those so they never get as worn.  There are others in the mix as well, the athletic ones for those days of running in 20 directions, the prim ones (still in the box I think… oh yeah, where is that box) for those days of trying to look professional, but my favorite ones are the ones that are old and worn and weathered… like me sometimes, most of the time.  They’re distressed but strong for the years of wear and they show the signs of the most stories.  No matter what day, what’s going on, I can always find some of my bootstraps through the help of the Father who made me and I treasure them all.