Panda’s & Kitty’s Flipping Rants
Well, I finally did it! I got a photo gallery up and running for our website! 
Go check it out! It’s at: http://photos.hcyuan.info/ I’ll start uploading pictures to there from now on, instead of at fotopic. Also, for your first enjoyment, pictures of Giant’s Causeway. 
The one good thing about being in Austin is the fact that there are a lot of trees. With a lot of tress, means there are a lot of birds. Working in the yard, I’ve seen a lot of birds. Nothing too pretty. I’ve even seen a red robin. But, since I was working in the yard, I didn’t get to take a picture of it.
I’ve also seen a squirrel run along my fence and jump up onto my tree and climb up it. Too cute.
This morning when we woke up, we saw a blue jay. They’re so pretty. They look just like a red robin, only they’re blue. It was in our semi-dug hole looking for food. Nancy tried to take a picture of it…only she didn’t know about the horrifying results of using a digital zoom…until it was too late. She took two pictures and it flew away. Results of the pictures? Horrifying. You might as well be a legally blind person without their glasses on.
Well, another chance came. It came back and hung out on our fence. Even better. Instead of a blue jay with dirt as the background, it was trees and fence. This time, I was the one to take the picture. Here’s the crop image. Let me know what you think of it.
Okay, another thing to talk about now. Stitch. Our little Stitch is enjoying our new home. Take a look at him!!
For those of you that I’ve told this to, Freddy’s doing good. In case you don’t remember, Freddy was the guy that did really good music and got a record deal from a big record company. In order for him to accept the deal, he had to drop out of college. He accepted. As he was still working on his first album, his record company got bought out and the new record company dropped him without even checking out his stuff. As if dropping him wasn’t bad enough, they did it over a voicemail. He was so devastated, that he became very depressed and his parents had to go down to California to get him.
Earlier this year…more like last month, Kidd Kraddick discovered his music through MySpace during his show. He got in contact with the guy and learned his story. So, he decided to help Freddy jump start his career by asking him to come down to Texas to play live at the station. But, they won’t fly him out. Freddy would have to drive down to Texas from the east coast himself. In order to help pay for gas, Kidd Kraddick arranged a bunch of concerts along the way. It was a big hit. A lot of people showed up to his concerts to support him. By the time he got to Texas, he was big news again and he started getting offers from them record companies again.
So, the update? Well, he turned all of them down and decided to do this first record with Kidd Kraddick instead. Is that awesome or what? So, he’s working on his album and the bits and pieces that they’ve been playing on the radio is awesome! Can’t wait for him to release his first CD so I can get my paws on it.
As you all know, I’ve been looking for my PS2. Nancy and I both could’ve sworn that we packed it in our suitcase, but now it was no where to be found.
As I was unpacking our stuff from China today, I found it. It was quite exciting. I went to go open the box that was labeled “Guitars.” I knew that they weren’t real guitars, but the guitars for Guitar Hero.
As I unpacked each item, I picked up one roll of paper and noticed that it was really thick, and then skinny on one end. As I roll out the paper, I started getting excited. “No way…could it be? But it can’t be!! This can’t be the PS2!! We told them not to pack it,” I kept saying as I rolled out the paper. As I near the end of the paper, I knew it was the PS2 and I got excited. Unfortunately, it wasn’t it. It was a stack of CD’s with one DVD at the end…which gave it the shape of a PS2 when wrapped in nothing but paper. Nancy laughed at me.
I picked up the next roll of paper and started unrolling it. “Wha…there’s cables. A PS2 remote?” No…it wasn’t. It really was our PS2 this time! Very unexpected since our hopes was already smashed by the CD’s and DVD. But, it really was. It really was OUR PS2. The DDR game was still in it as well as our memory card!
OH! How great it is! It’s like finding treasure. I was pretty convinced that it was stolen, but to be able to find it…I’m very pleased.
The war is forever ongoing it seems. Although I have been reassigned away from my post, it seems the war continues, even at home. Last weekend, while digging a garden for my dear wifey, I was ambushed and attacked. They left six marks on me. I didn’t get a single one. The ones here are definitely sneakier, being that they are on enemy home ground. They’re definitely the elite.
Tonight, I was in the kitchen getting water for Nancy when she shouts out that she has spotted an invader. Unfortunately, she was unable to capture nor kill it. We searched for awhile but turned up nothing. We concluded that it was best if we just call it a night and head upstairs to sleep.
Upstairs in the master bathroom, I jumped into the tub to wash my feet when all of a sudden, Nancy shouts again.
“MOSQUITO!!”
“Where?!” I screamed, as I looked around for the invader.
I turned around to look at Nancy to see which direction she was pointing at. As I did, I see her run across the bathroom with her hand outstretched.
*BAM!*
Her hand slams against our glass door to the bathtub. I look at it from the other side and I see it. A black smudge. She got it. But then I noticed something…red. The mosquito left red blood on the glass. Not just a little bit. But a lot.
“Blood! BLOOD! It must’ve got me already! I’m HIT~!!!” I shout out.
I quickly washed my feet and dried them while Nancy went and grab the anti-itch + healing medicine.
“Put it on any red spots you see!!” I demanded as Nancy started smearing medicine all over my body.
This does not bode too well. I’ve lost this battle, but the war is far from over. From what I understand, these were just scouting parties…the real army has yet to shown itself. I must prepare myself and my new post. From the looks of things…it’s going to be a long summer.
Stumpy and his wife Martha went to the state fair every year. Every year Stumpy would say, “Martha, I’d like to ride in that there airplane.”
And every year Martha would say, “I know Stumpy, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars.”
One year Stumpy and Martha went to the fair and Stumpy said, “Martha, I’m 71 years old. If I don’t ride that airplane this year I may never get another chance.”
Martha replied, “Stumpy, that there airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars.”
The pilot overheard them and said, “Folks, I’ll make you a deal, I’ll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won’t charge you, but if you say one word it’s ten dollars.”
Stumpy and Martha agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word was heard. He did all his tricks over again, but still not a word. They landed and the pilot turned to Stumpy, “By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn’t.”
Stumpy replied, “Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but ten dollars is ten dollars.”
不知道是不是休息的时间太长了,觉得自己越来越懒.每天PANDA去上班半天了,我都没起床.其实经常想哪天应该早起做一顿早餐给他吃,可是从来都是想想而已.PANDA让我在家要好好看看考驾照的书,我嘴上满口答应,心里也是下定决心要看的,但是等我拿起书的时候,翻开一页就放在旁边了,一直在网上瞎逛,这个论坛跑到那个论坛,晃来晃去,时间不知不觉就过去了.然后睡觉之前就感叹时间怎么过那么快.于是下定决心第二天一定要早一点起床,要好好看书,但是第二天又在不知不觉中度过,我的天!我觉得我怎么整天在浪费时间,浪费生命!
对了,上次和PANDA去LAS VEGAS,周末去了BELLAGIO酒店,也是赌场,发点照片给国内的家人朋友们看看吧!
这是在Bellagio酒店中庭一个巨大的室内花园,到处都绽放着鲜花,各种动物也是用鲜花扎制而成,走在里面,空气中都弥漫着鲜花味!
用鲜花扎制起来的蜘蛛
在BELLAGIO的海鲜餐馆用晚餐.这道是开胃菜,我和PANDA一人吃掉一个虾后才想起来拍照,结果只剩一个虾孤零零的,^_^
第二道汤,我和PANDA超级喜欢喝,觉得这道菜是整个晚餐中最好吃的
水缸里养着大龙虾,我们点的菜就是从这里抓出来的
这是我点的大龙虾,壳被扒掉了,看起来没有那么大了
panda点的KOBE STEAK和小龙虾
吃完晚饭去看BELLAGIO著名的音乐喷泉,表演30分钟一次,游客日夜不断
几张夜景,都是赌场
下面是我们住的房间,很大很宽敞,但感觉一般般,好像不够国内酒店那么温馨如家
A husband and wife came for counseling after 20 years of marriage. When asked what the problem was, the wife went into a passionate, painful tirade listing every problem they had ever had in the 20 years they had been married.
She went on and on and on: neglect, lack of intimacy, emptiness, loneliness, feeling unloved and unlovable, an entire laundry list of unmet needs she had endured over the course of their marriage.
Finally, after allowing this to go on for a sufficient length of time, the therapist got up, walked around the desk and, after asking the wife to stand, embraced and kissed her passionately as her husband watched with a raised eyebrow. The woman shut up and quietly sat down as though in a daze.
The therapist turned to the husband and said, “This is what your wife needs at least three times a week. Can you do this?”
The husband thought for a moment and replied, “Well, I can drop her off here on Mondays and Wednesdays, but on Fridays, I fish.”
Nancy got to cut my hair for the first time. How did you think she did?
Well, she was scared at first, but after I showed her how to do it a few times, she got the hang of it. Did a pretty good job. I mean, I’m bald now, but at least it’s even.
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. ‘I wowed ‘em,’ he later told his father, Bruce. ‘It’s a killer. It’s the bomb. It’s the best thing I ever wrote..’ It also was the last.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. ‘I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,’ Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son’s vision of life after death. ‘I’m happy for Brian. I know he’s in heaven. I know I’ll see him.’
Brian’s Essay:
The Room…
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read ‘Girls I have liked.’ I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content.
Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named ‘Friends‘ was next to one marked ‘Friends I have betrayed.’ The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird ‘Books I Have Read,’ ‘Lies I Have Told,’ ‘Comfort I have Given,’ ‘Jokes I Have Laughed at .’ Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: ‘Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.’ Others I couldn’t laugh at: ‘Things I Have Done in My Anger‘, ‘Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.’ I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked ‘TV Shows I have watched’, I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked ‘Lustful Thoughts,’ I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!’ In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it..
The title bore ‘People I Have Shared the Gospel With.‘ The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
‘No!’ I shouted, rushing to Him. All I could find to say was ‘No, no,’ as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, ‘It is finished.’ I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
