Etchings in the Sand…

We’re pretty well settled into our new home by now. Well, as settled as one ever gets in this life. There remain a few loose ends to tie up, but both of us are ready to get about the good things, the projects, the activities that make life in retirement what we’ve been working toward all these years. We are happy.

One of my blogging sons, Peter, had a good one today on bumper stickers that I must pass on. Bourlands never display them, but we read them.

His favorites.

Shhhhh!  I’m listening to a book.

My other car is a broom.

My 401K is now a 101K.

Jesus is coming.  Look busy.

Isn’t a smoking area in a restaurant like a peeing area in a swimming pool?

and my personal favorite:

What would Scooby do?

(Sorry, Pete, I don’t understand the last one. Too old I guess.)

Well, they stretch me, entertain me and inspire me. But most of all, every once in awhile, they just make me think and think and think.

Such a thing I experienced with “Suburban Life” – today. This is one I never miss. You will see why if you will click on the above link.

Well, I think I’ve learned something about blogging and myself over the past few months when a move into a new home and a heavy case of bronchitis rendered me creatively constipated.

To be at my best – maybe even to function at a mediocre level of excellence – I require a degree of balance and harmony in my life. In younger years I could damn the torpedoes and charge on into the future, but with age there seems to be a greater need for simplicity and leisure in order to do the good things. It seems to require a bit more freedom of spirit to put the creative stuff into motion.

What I’m trying to say is that I am slowly rounding into shape again and giving more wistful nods in the general direction of resuming my photography, my writing and even my morning bicycle rides. (I noticed this morning that the tires are a little low.)

Though I would venture a guess that it will be a good month before we are soundly entrenched in our new home, it is only a matter of days until I am back in my blogging saddle again.

Fact is, in the next day or so I should have a photo of the new place in place for you. Oh, and I thank you for your patience.

I read in the paper yesterday that our president and his wife, retiring in only a few months now, will be living in a ritzy suburban section of Dallas. All of his earlier indications had pointed to his dude ranch in Crawford.

Why am I disappointed in him again? Or still?

I felt good about this photo…