Skip to main content

You’ve got to deal with how photographs look, what’s there, not how they’re made.


I need to shave. Home, Geilston Bay. January 2013.

Theme Thursday and CHOCOLATE does not do it for me.

Foot rubs, good reads, back rubs, long walks, short runs, nice swims, sightseeing tours, games of snap, making love, taking photos, cooking dinner, decent music, stupid jokes, Wii Fit, kicking footies; you know, that kind of thing.

Comments

Mrsupole said…
Well after a good foot or back rub, long walk or short run, taking a photo, eating the cooked dinner and especially stupid jokes, a nice piece of chocolate cake with ice cream sure does sound good. And dark chocolate is healthy for you.

God bless.
anthonynorth said…
Foot rubs in chocolate may be therapeutic.
Pratibha said…
Ah! the good life :)
Even i do not go for chocolate when I need to feel pampered and alive !
California Girl said…
HI! Psych'd to find out you're in Tasmania...even if you don't care about chocolate.

Kris McCracken said…
So tired, so very very tired.

So California Girl, have you been to Tasmania?
California Girl said…
No. I've not traveled to your part of the woods. My sons, however, are currently living in Byron Bay, New South Wales. They love it.
Kris McCracken said…
Byron is a lovely part of the world. A mite warmer than Tasmania, but we have our own charms.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

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

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