If quantum mechanics hasn't profoundly shocked you, you haven't understood it yet.

Waratah anemone. Flowerpot Point, Blackmans Bay. May 2013.

Sunday Stealing: The Meme From Memphis (part one)

Be honest, who texted you last?
My darling wife.

Do you sleep with the bedroom door open or closed?
Closed. If Ezra asks for it open though, I am prepared to compromise.

Do you drink tea?
Only when I am feeling unwell.

Do you have plans for tomorrow?
I always have plans. There are a few things in the calendar.

What’s worse: dry skin or chapped lips?
Chapped lips are not pleasant, but from afar dry skin looks very unpleasant.

Would you be surprised if Facebook started charging?
Very much so, as its revenue base is rooted in advertising space. You would be killing the goose that laid the golden egg!

Would you rather go to Canada or California on vacation?
Hungary. Well, if it is down to those two, bring on Canada, aye.

How many social media sites are you registered with?
Pretty much all of them.

Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants or pajama pants?
Today, jeans.

So, what if you changed lives for one day with the last person you texted?
I'd have a good try out of the equipment!

Last person you told a secret to?
Henry.

What are you listening to at the moment?
Paddington Bear.

Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your bed?
The shower.

Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to?
There's three people that I believe I will always be attached to.

Are you going to any concerts this year?
It's unlikely.

Do you believe in Karma?
Not in the slightest.

Comments

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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