I think people should be allowed to do anything they want. We haven't tried that for a while. Maybe this time it'll work.

Here is a shot of Henry and regular blog ~~pest~~ commenter Roddy looking for crabs up at Fossil Bluff in Wynyard. You might just be able to see Bass Strait in the background.

As a bonus, here is an arty black and white portrait to scare people off ever getting tattoos. They fade people, and it isn't pleasant when the skin stretches and contracts over time!

Comments

Z said…

Google employees get 20% time to work on whatever they fancy -- and that has been very good for Google. Motivation and productivity are interesting aspects to study, aren't they?

28 February 2010 at 23:23

ratatouille's archives said…

Hi! Kris,
Kris said,"Here is a shot of Henry and regular blog commenter Roddy looking for crabs up at Fossil Bluff in Wynyard."

Nice photograph of...grandfather and grandson. By the way,I find your parents' comments very interesting!
What an interesting quote too!
Thanks, for sharing!
DeeDee ;-D

1 March 2010 at 02:02

Mo said…

Especially here in Nanny State. Thinking woyuld be a great start.
old tats. well great future business in laser removal I say.

1 March 2010 at 02:27

Magpie said…

They look like a couple pirates looking for buried treasure.
Wonderful bonding.

1 March 2010 at 04:16

Roddy said…

You happened to pick the arm with scars through the tattoo. Mine have aged a lot better than a lot that I have seen over the years. What about the one on my leg that has the scar in exactly the same place as my scar.
That was one absolute fluke. A 30cm. gash that traveled through her leg in exactly the same place.

1 March 2010 at 20:10

Kris McCracken said…

Thanks all, don't get tattoos!

4 March 2010 at 11:02

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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