A Short Holiday « Result #2 on Mar 11, 2009, 3:55am »
Alan worked in an office in the city. He worked very hard and really looked forward to his holidays.
He usually went to the seaside, but one year he saw an ad in a newspaper "Enjoy country life. Spend a few weeks at Willow Farm. Good food, fresh air, horse riding, walking, fishing. Reasonable prices ."
" This sounds like a good idea." he thought, " I' 11 spend a month at Willow Farm. I'll enjoy horse riding, walking and fishing. They'll make a change from sitting by the seaside.
Four days later he returned home.
"What' s wrong with Willow Farm ?" his friend asked him. " Didn't you enjoy country life ?"
"Country life was fine," Alan said." But there was another problem.
"Oh, what?"
Well, the first day I was there a sheep died, and we had roast lamb for dinner.
揊resh meat is the best.擾"I know, but on the second day a cow died, and we had roast beef for dinner. "
"Lucky you!"
"You don't understand," Alan said." On the third day a pig died and we had roast pork for dinner."
" A different roast every day." Jack exclaimed.
"Let me finish," Alan said." On the fourth day the farmer died and I didn't dare stay for dinner!"
A rather well built woman, Joan, spent almost all of her vacation time sunbathing on the roof of her hotel. The first day she sunbathed, she wore a red bathing suit. However on the second day, she felt a little more adventurous. She slipped out of it in order to get an overall tan figuring that no one could see her way up there. She'd hardly began when she heard someone running up the stairs. She was lying on her stomach, so she just pulled a towel over her rear.
"Excuse me, miss," said a flustered little (out of breath) assistant manager of the hotel. "The Hilton doesn't mind you sunbathing on the roof, but we would very much appreciate you wearing a bathing suit as you did yesterday!"
"What difference does it make", Joan asked rather calmly. "No one can see me up here on the roof and besides, I'm covered with a towel."
"With all due respect, not exactly ma'am," said the embarrassed little man. "You are lying on the dining room skylight."
Having a ready-formed plan « Result #5 on Feb 23, 2009, 1:48am »
there was once an artist whose name was Wen Tong. He was famous for his bamboo drawings.wow power leveling, A lot of people asked him for one of his bamboo drawings.
People wondered why Wen Tong could draw so well. Actually, Wen Tong loved bamboo so much he had grown various bamboo around his house. No matter what season it was and no matter whether it was sunny or rainy,wow power leveling, he used to go to the bamboo forest to observe how they were growing.
He carefully observed the length and breadth of the bamboo poles as well as the shapes and colors of the leaves. Whenever he found something new, he went back to his study and drew what was in his mind on paper. wow power leveling,After a long time, the images of the bamboo in different seasons, under different weather conditions and at different moments were deeply imprinted in his mind. Whenever he stood before the paper and picked up a painting brush,wow gold, various forms of bamboo came into his mind at once. So, every time he was drawing bamboo he appeared confident and at ease. All the bamboo he drew looked like real.
When people spoke highly of his paintings,wow gold,he always said modestly that he had just put the images of the bamboo imprinted in his mind in the paper.
the phrase "having the images of bamboo ready in one's bosom" means having plans or designs ready in one's mind before doing a certain job so that its success is guaranteed. wow gold,It also means being calm and sober-minded in dealing with things.
Watching Me Go « Result #6 on Feb 23, 2009, 1:48am »
The crayoned picture shows a first-grade boy with shoebox arms, stovepipe legs and tears squirting like melon seeds.wow power leveling, The carefully printed caption reads, "I am so sad." It is my son Brendan's drawing-journal entry for September 19. Brendan cried his first day of school, dissolving at his classroom door like a human bouillon cube. wow power leveling,The classroom jiggled with small faces, wet-combed hair, white Nikes and new backpacks. Something furry scuttled around in a big wire cage. Garden flowers rested on Mrs. Phillips's desk. Mrs. Phillips has halo status at our school. She is a kind, soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind. But even she could not coax Brendan to a seat. Most kids sat eagerly awaiting thingy and Jane and two plus two. Not my Brendan. His eyes streamed, his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a strawberry. I plucked him off and escaped. It wasn't that Brendan didn't like school. He was the kid at the preschool Christmas concert who knew everyone's part and who performed "Jingle Bells" with operatic passion. Brendan just didn't like being apart from me. wow power leveling,We'd had some good times, he and I, in those preschool years. We played at the pool. We skated on quiet morning ice. We sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighbourhood coffee parties. Our time together wasn't exactly material for a picture book, but it was time together. And time moves differently for a child. Now in Grade 1, Brendan was faced with five hours of wondering what I was doing with my day. wow gold,Brendan always came home for lunch, the only one of his class not to eat at his desk. But once home, fed and hugged, a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow--he wanted to go back to school to play! So I walked him back, waited with him until he spotted someone he knew, then left. He told me once that he watched me until he couldn't see me anymore, so I always walked fast and never looked back. One day when I took Brendan back after lunch, he spied a friend, kissed me goodbye, and scampered right off. I went, feeling pleased for him, celebrating his new independence, his entry into the first-grade social loop. And I felt pleased for myself, a sense of well-being and accomplishment that I, too, had entered the mystic circle of parents whose children separated easily.
Then--I don't know why--I glanced back. And there he was.wow gold, The playground buzzed all around him, kids everywhere, and he stood, his chin tucked close, his body held small, his face intent but not sad, blowing me kisses. So brave, so unashamed, so completely loving, Brendan was watching me go.
No book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick, raw glimpse into my child's soul. My mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog grown old and him saying, "Dry up, Mom. It's not like I'm leaving the country." In my mind I tore up the card every mother signs saying she'll let her child go when he's ready. I looked
at my Brendan, wow gold,his shirt tucked in, every button done up, his toes just turned in a bit, and I though, "OK, you're six for me forever. Just try to grow up, I dare you." With a smile I had to really dig for, I blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.
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