This too shall pass

Three blokes under a cliff minding their own business. Spring Beach, Orford. Tasmania's East Coast. July 2012.

It's a very special Theme Thursday today, but one filled with many DISTRACTIONS.

It is young Ezra's birthday today, you see. Yes, my dear little baby boy is FOUR!

FOUR!

Where did the time go?

That's the problem with time. Life is so full of DISTRACTIONS that you sometimes fail to notice that every second time is ticking away and suddenly it's 2012, you're thirty-five years old and your teeny-weeny baby is FOUR.

It doesn't seem that long ago that he was a mere 27 seconds old an in his mother's arms (you can click here and view the original post).

Or the time on his first birthday when he tried to eat the candle (you can see that post here).

Or the time on his second birthday when he nearly took off because of all the balloons he was holding (click to see that here)?

Or even the day of his third birthday, where we demonstrated the extend of our esteem by purchasing bananas even though we found ourselves amidst the Great Banana Shortage of '11 (click here)?

As for this year, well, who knows what might DISTRACT us before the day is out?

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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