In youth and beauty, wisdom is but rare!

Someone has rushed this. Geilston Bay, August 2011.

Now time for part II of yesterday's stolen questions:

20) Have you ever flown a kite?
Of course!

21) Do you wish on your fallen lashes?
Not that I am aware of. Am I supposed to?

22) Do you consider yourself successful?
It depends on one’s measure. Some days I think that I am.

23) When was the last time that you made an obscene phone call?
I never have.

24) Have you ever asked for a pony?
No. They make me sneeze (no good if I was on the run from the draft board.

25) Plans for tomorrow?
Work.

26) Can you juggle?
Very badly.

27) Missing someone now?
Always.

28) When was the last time you told someone "I love you"?
This very morning.

29) And truly meant it?
I have never once said it and not meant it.

30) How often do you drink alcohol?
Once in a blue moon.

31) How are you feeling today?
Spritely.

32) Have you ever tried to write a meme?
Who hasn’t?

33) Have you ever been fired from a job?
Never. Can you believe it?

34) What are you looking forward to?
The next cuddle.

35) Have you ever crawled through a window?
Many a time.

36) What's the most recent bad meal that you had to endure?
No comment.

37) Can you handle the truth?
Whose truth?

38) Who’s to blame for what's going on?
We are all to blame.

39) What will it take to fix it all up?
A miracle.

Comments

Sue said…

You are successful in all the ways that matter, Kris. You are much loved and loving. Worthy measures to go by.

22 September 2011 at 22:20

Kris McCracken said…

The proof is in the pudding!

1 October 2011 at 08:14

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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