I love living. I have some problems with my life, but living is the best thing they've come up with so far.

Ezra and I (in shadow). Geilston Bay Road, Geilston Bay. April 2013.

This week sees me stealing another series from Sunday Stealing: The Meme From Memphis (part two).

Have any memories that you’d like to forget?
One or two.

Is there someone you really like to hang out with and just talk about stuff?
There's a couple.

Have you ever been called prince or princess?
Only in jest.

Do you think teenagers are weird?
No weirder than anyone else.

How fast does your mood change?
It has been known to turn on a five cent coin.

How are you feeling?
Pretty ordinary.

Do you want someone to call you right now?
Not particularly.

What do you always take with you?
A camera.

Is your bed comfortable?
Indeed it is!

Would you say you’re an understanding person?
I am capable of great understanding, but do have a firm sense of right and wrong.

Are you generally a happy person?
I make some effort to be. I think that I've been at my happiest over the past couple of years.

Who’s in your facebook profile picture with you?
Hang on... [Loads it up.] Ezra.

Were you single on Valentine’s Day?
No.

What is the last movie you watched?
I watched Batteries Not Included with the kids.

Do you listen to songs when you’re done?
Done what? I like to listen to music while doing the household chores, not afterwards...

How long does it take you to fall asleep at night?
An ever decreasing amount of time!

Are you talkative?
If you get me started I am.

What are your St. Patty's day plans?
We don't really do that around these parts. Or at least we don't in my circles...

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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