Centipede has one hundred feet. One hundred feet means one hundred shoes. How in the world does Centipede choose shoes? This Math Reader clearly demonstrates the concepts of pairs and multiple sets, all in simple, rollicking, rhythmic text and with bright, graphic illustrations.
Size 11 Shoe - Jaxon's day at the mall becomes a day of noise, people, and some great meetings with strangers. From getting a hot massage to getting a new suite, he doesn't stop following a guy with big feet. The only thing holding him back from feeling the cutie is his banshee of a fiance. Will there be another chance for a good time at the mall? Rainbow Shorts - These authors write from write from their point of view as Tops, Bottoms, Versatile, Tans, and anything in between. They will give you an option at the end of the story for you to be interactive and give other readers your suggestions.Your Gay Erotica Books are a series of short, hot, erotic stories written from different points of view. Each author tells the story of the author's sexual preference or preferences. www.yourgayerotica.com
Forget your heart on your sleeve. Wear your passion on your shoes! Paint a quilt on them! On a whim, Annemart Berendse painted a quilt on her shoes to wear to the 2011 AQS quilt show in Paducah. She could barely move through the crowd because people kept stopping her to comment on her brightly colored 'patchwork' clogs. She shares her techniques for creating a quilt design and positioning it appropriately on any style of shoe. She explains various combinations of shoe material-leather, manmade leather, vinyl, and canvas-and markers-pens and paints. Her easy-to-follow directions guarantee foolproof results. In the 11 projects there are 7 different styles of shoes-something for everyone, from truly inexpensive to ultra chic. Her 'grocery lists' assure you'll have every supply needed on hand should you, too, be overcome by a shoe decorating whim. Stand out in any crowd with decorated shoes on your feet.
In early 2013, Luanne Zurlo decided to take an extended break from years of intense, travel-heavy work that had left her exhausted. Three months later during a brief vacation in Rome, Zurlo felt a pull like never before. It became obvious to her that she needed to spend more time in Rome--specifically to study theology at the Angelicum, a Pontifical University. Some six months later, a unique journey began as Zurlo returned to Italy to fulfill her dream.
In her travel journal compiled in the form of dispatches, Zurlo shares a thoughtful, often amusing view of her four-month sabbatical overseas as she immersed herself in the culture of Rome, learned how to climb the seventy-three steps to her apartment without gasping for air, explored Italy, including a search for a family saint, and soaked up an array of experiences.
Fifteen Feet from the Pope shares fascinating commentary and photographs from a former Wall Street analyst's unforgettable experiences during her Roman sabbatical.
CHAPTER I Are there any women today, I wonder, like the girl wife of Jacopone da Todi, who are found in the midst of worldly brilliance wearing the hair shirt of piety and devotion over their spotless hearts? I doubt it. It is no wonder that Jacopone, that "smart" thirteenth-century Italian lawyer, became a great saint when he made that discovery, after his beautiful young wife's accidental death. It would make a saint of anybody. I am quite sure Gertrude is not like that. But then Gertrude is not my wife-as yet. Nor am I Jacopone. I am nothing more, I fear, than a contented voluptuary of a bookworm. Like King James, I feel that were it my fate to be a captive, I should wish to be shut up in a great library consuming my days among my fellow-prisoners, the blessed books. To distil the reading of a lifetime into a little wisdom for my poor wits, that has been all my aim and my ambition, if by any name so dynamic as ambition I may call it. An old young man is what I have been called, and Gertrude seems propelled by some potent urge to change me-God knows why. I have just been talking with-I mean listening to-Gertrude. We are to be married, she says, in three weeks. Time out of mind we have been friends, Gertrude and I, as our mothers had been before us. She, the highly modern spinster and I, such as I am, have been linked for years by an engagement which is not an engagement in the old sense at all. It is a sort of entente cordiale. An engagement in the conventional meaning of the word would be as abhorrent to Gertrude as the old-fashioned marriage. As soon would she think of "being given in marriage" with bell, book and orange blossoms as of calling herself "Mrs. Randolph Byrd"-or anything but Miss Bayard. That is what we have been discussing this gloomy afternoon in my snug little apartment before a garrulous fire. For Gertrude is not so absurd as to hesitate to call on me at my apartment any more than I would hesitate to call on her in Gramercy Park.
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