I realise today that nothing in the world is more distasteful to a man than to take the path that leads to himself.

Here is the view walking up Murray Street into the sun late in the afternoon. I like the colours in this one, as it feels like autumn even though it is ~~winter~~ AUTUMN [flu + baby + toddler = brain atrophy].

I'm all about list-making at the moment, so I thought that I'd riff on a familiar theme and present to you part one in a new series...

Pros and Cons of Toddlers

Pro #1: They're CUTE. I know that some dirt magnets have heads on them like half-eaten meat pies, but I think that we all know that MY children are handsome young fellows. This immediately gains you cred points in the general community.

Con #1: They're LOUD. As a lover of peace and quite, this has been hard to deal with. Whatever it is that they seem to be doing, they appear compelled to do it at full volume. This can encompass everything from having a bath to picking up toys to reading a book. The one exception seems to be "pouring water on clean clothes". In this sense, when you can't hear Henry, he's up to no good.

Comments

Sue said…

Hate to mention it, Kris...but it actually IS Autumn...Winter will not be upon us until the 1st June.
Having fugly children is where you REALLY prove what a good parent you are...it is easy to like good looking kids but you really have to work at it with a fugly one!
I always knew when it was quiet in my home that someone was doing something they shouldn't. That still applies!

17 May 2009 at 12:35

Roddy said…

Don't you just love ém. And yes winter still starts the first of June.

17 May 2009 at 12:52

Kris McCracken said…

Sue, please forgive me. I was dying.

It would be difficult to have a fugly. I'm not sure that Henry would have survived the first year if he had a rotten head...

19 May 2009 at 12:08

Kris McCracken said…

Roddy, it FEELS like winter.

19 May 2009 at 12:09

yamini said…

Beautiful Snapshot!!!!!

20 May 2009 at 17:47

Kris McCracken said…

Yamini, thank you.

21 May 2009 at 13:38

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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