Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dreaming of Retirement

 Our discussion the other day was about whether or not it is possible for us to retire in about 2 years.  If the housing market could improve and we could sell our home...we might be able to do it.  We would have to live with a lot less money.  Only the absolute necessities could be bought.  But on the plus side we have so many books already to read and can always go to the library and book fares.  And reading all day is what I have in mind for retirement.  Also going around taking photos of  simple things you can find just about anywhere.  It is amazing how much time I can fritter away just doing these 2 things.  The photo below is one of three leaves that I found in our back yard that spiders and another very tiny bug were eating away at.  What was left was a very beautiful lacy looking delicate leaf.  I brought them in and scanned them in the printer and them took it over to picnik and did some techniques...that I can't even remember right now.  I just had fun sitting there and experimenting what I could do with it.  I imagine that neither one of us would ever have a boring day in retirement...it is just a matter of what we could survive on as far as money goes.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

A poem I read today and liked very much.
 
The Touch Of The Master’s Hand by Myra Brooks Welch

‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?”
“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…” But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of the Master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

Clifford 1994 to 2009

Clifford   1994 to 2009
The Best Dog Ever