Tuesday, October 28, 2008

.i miss my photoshop.

This has not really been much of an eventful week.  I'm still working on getting Aislin's costume together (I know, I'm running out of time).  The hardest thing was trying to figure out what to dress the wee girl in!  I thought, 'Hey! Let's dress her up as a fairy!'  Then, tempuratures plummeted to 40 degrees!  So. . . I've decided, she's going to be a gypsy this year.  Fully clothed, head covered, warm.  

I've been looking at some blogs and flickr accounts here in the last few days and I'm simply amazed at how beautiful everyones images are!  Which then, of course, got me to missing my Photoshop.  My PC killed over a few months back, again, after having it fixed.  We think that there was a power surge in the house we're renting (the wiring is really messy), and that the power strip that we had didn't do much of anything, obviously, to protect it.  So right now I've been using the Mac Notebook.  Unfortunately,  I don't have PS on it since the one I have was for Windows.  Argh!!  Oh but looking at the use of layers and texture is AMAZING!!  Zee, over at Pixieblossoms, was nice enough to leave some links to tutorials on her blog.  I'm dying to play with some of my older photos to give it an even more vintage feel.  I miss my Photoshop.  :o(  I guess, for now, I shall continue to utilize iPhoto, but it's just NOT the same!!

I have been trying to write some poetry lately.  Honestly, I'm not quite brave enough to share it with all of you just yet.  But before I go, I wanted to leave you with some lovely words.  This time, from the poet, Amy Lowell. 

Life is a stream 
On which we strew
Petal by petal the flower of our heart;
The end lost in dream,
They float past our view, 
We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope,
Crimsoned with joy,
We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;
The widening scope,
Their distant employ,
We never shall know.  And the stream as it flows
Sweeps them away,
Each one is gone
Every beyond into infinite ways.
We alone stay
While years hurry on,
The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

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