I was supposed to blog, but I didn't until today because I was busy painting my office and having a new driveway put in.
The office is a color called "buttercream" which is lovely, and always kind of makes me hungry. I have new office furniture coming. Actually the enormous, glass-fronted, solid oak bookcase is already here. And the beautiful solid oak, Stickley-manufactured desk is on order and probably won't arrive until after Christmas. Did you know Stickley still made furniture? It's incredibly nice stuff if you go for the Mission style. It's also pretty expensive, but hey, I'm worth a little loveliness, aren't I?
The driveway was $6300 - not cheap either. But the old concrete drive lasted 40 years, so I'm expecting this one to out-live me. The concrete guys were very professional - quick and organized - and they cleaned up after themselves nicely. The driveway looks good.
All of this is leading up to my poems of the day:
He said --
A Penny Saved Is Impossible
The further through life I drift
The more obvious it becomes that I am lacking in thrift.
Now thrift is such a boon to its possessor that years ago they began to tax it,
But it is a bane to him that lacks it
Because if you lack it your will go into a shoppe and pay two dollars for a gifte.
But if you possess it you find something just as good for a dollar fifte.
A penny is merely something that you pull several of out of your pocket before you find the nickel you need for a telephone call, if thriftlessness is in your blood,
Whereas to the thrifty a penny is something to be put out at stud.
Thrifty people put two-cent stamps on letters addressed to a three-cent zone,
And thriftless people on the other end pay the postage due and the thrifty people chuckle and rub their hands because the saving on every six letters represents a year’s interest on a dollar loan.
Oh that I were thrifty, because thrifty people leave estates to delight their next of kin with;
Oh that I were thrifty, because then not only would I have money in the bank to pay my bills, but I could leave the money in the bank because I wouldn’t have run up the bills to begin with;
Oh that I were not a spendthrift, oh then would my heart indeed be gladsome,
Because it is so futile being a spendthrift because I don’t know any places where thrift could be spent even if I had some.
Ogden Nash
She said --
Barter
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like the curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.
Sara Teasdale
