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Epilogue - An Irish Blessing

Today marks the first anniversary of my blog that started as a challenge to myself to keep the mind from idling . Setting it up was relatively easy and fun too, especially the fun part and along the way I learned a bit about the basic use of HTML in editing template. Mind you, this is coming from a senior person and therefore the agility for grasping IT know-how cannot be taken for granted in the way you do of today’s youngsters.

The next imposing consideration was how long did I intend to keep at it. I resolved it should be at least a year and my approach was to regard it as a form of diary-keeping. Being personal and private, I had disabled search function then. With this “coming out”, I have removed posts I deem too personal or inclined to radical discomfort.

With the ‘blog’ challenge met, I have decided to conclude with an Irish blessing:

May there always be work for your hands to do,
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine warm on your windowpane,
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you,
And may God fill your hear with a gladness to cheer you.

posted by Victor Lai @ 10:56 PM 0 comments

How cows are impregnated

Amy, a blonde city girl, marries a Texas rancher. One morning, on his way out to check on the cows, the rancher says to Amy, "The artificial insemination man is coming over to impregnate one of our cows today. I drove a nail into the two-by-four just above the cow's stall in the barn. You show him where the cow is when he gets here, okay?"

The rancher leaves for the fields. After a while the artificial insemination man arrives and knocks on the front door. Amy takes him down to the barn.

They walk along a long row of cows and when she sees the nail, she tells him, "This is the one . . right here."

Terribly impressed by what he assumed was just another dizzy blonde, the man asks, "How did you know this is the cow to be bred?"

"That's simple -- by the nail over its stall." Amy explains.

Then the man asks, "What's the nail for?"

She tells him as she walks away, "I guess it's to hang your pants on."

posted by Victor Lai @ 2:00 PM 0 comments

Sheep Pastures

Out of the noise and clamor of the town.
I have come down
To this green pasture land where sheep
Gaze in the golden light.

Where shadows creep,
As deliberately as they, across the grass.
The slow hours pass,

And I am one with the rhythm and the rhyme
Of this still land, this quiet time;

Even my hurrying heart has stayed its pace
Within this quiet place.

by Grace Noll Crowell

posted by Victor Lai @ 12:25 AM 0 comments