If you ever injected truth into politics you have no politics.

This is Henry's angry face.

I am reasonably certain that is uncannily like the face I pulled last night after spending an hour slaving away over a hot stove cooking dinner after spending eight hours slaving away over a hot computer only to have my oldest child turn his nose up and refuse to eat one single thing on his plate, telling me that it was "yukky".

I will concede that the rissoles were dry, and the roast veg a little overdone, but it all tasted okay. How could he be so certain when he didn't taste it anyway?!?

Comments

Roddy said…

Believe me my son, you children always knew, when you too hadn't touched a thing on your plate. The bane of every parent. Having their children better informed than them. Absolute bliss.

9 September 2009 at 21:51

Chris Wolf said…

is it time for some kid-friendly meals? finger foods, mac and cheese, with a few veg. sides? Compromise has within it the 'promise' that everyone gets a turn to be pleased and to suffer....

10 September 2009 at 02:02

yamini said…

Is that my dear Henry, turning his nose upon a meal that you so lovingly cooked for him? Ha ha ha ha ha :-)))

Going by Roddy's comment, life has come full circle for you Kris.

I know what you'll say to that.

10 September 2009 at 15:20

Diederick Wijmans said…

Intuition? Children have more developed senses than adults and politicians!

10 September 2009 at 18:11

KL said…

Because it didn't contain any meat?

11 September 2009 at 09:25

Kris McCracken said…

Kids are just plain fussy!

14 September 2009 at 10:19

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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