This will hurt me...

Duck feet (from below). Geilston Bay. July 2013. I'm back on the buses again, which ups the time I have to read. This is always nice. After The Wall , Jana Hensel: I'm always up for an East German generational memoir, which is Hensel's goal here. What differentiates this one from many of the others is that Hensel reflects on the very last of that generation, those that were at the tail end of their childhood at the fall of the Berlin Wall and whose teenage years coincided with the process of reunification. I'm not certain that this translation helped (it was packed full of jarring Americanisms), but was an interesting-enough reflection. C . Grendel , John Gardner: A fascinating novel that retells the Anglo-Saxon epic poem Beowulf from the perspective of the monster and - quite successfully - explores (among other things) the nature of good and evil; man's capacity for violence; finding meaning in the world; and the power of literature and myth. I really enj...

Plates of meat. Blackmans Bay, February 2013. Theme Thursday ? Is it too LATE to say sorry?

These boots were made for walking. Seven Mile Beach, September 2010. Game Two of the Southern Touch Mixed Teams Division Seven was run and done last night, and the illustrious Statewide and Mental Health Services team Mind Games emerged slightly scathed last night with a gallant two tries to ten trouncing. On the personal front, no shoulder damage this week, just a nice big bruise on the right upper thigh (at the front) that I cannot explain. The quads are tight, and the left calf taut, but a vigorous series of stretches pre- and post- match appear to have served me well. As for the cheerleader report, they disappeared not long after the opening kickoff to search for playground equipment. Said equipment was found, but not before they spotted a small marsupial bounding through the sandy dunes of Howrah Beach. Alas, there was no camera to record the moment.

Breaking all the rules. April, 2010. If you don't mind me saying it, I have magnificent legs. Ask anybody, they'll tell you.

Self portrait in a car park, August 2009. As the only lady in the house packed to the gunwales of testosterone, poor Jen suffers intolerably . Even dear, sweet, lovely little Ezra™ has embraced with great vigour the masculine world of balls, drums, wild animals, mixed martial arts and random shouting. That said, Henry has his oven and has established a keen interest in the kitchen, even if his spiel is more Gordon Ramsey than Julia Child. He’s also shown an eagerness to learn the fine art of knitting (i.e. stabbing me with the needles and lynching his little people with the wool). He enjoys the supermarket (“What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that daddy?” “What’s that?” “ What’s that? ” “ WHAT’S THAT? ”) We have Colin – the baby dolly introduced to Henry when we learned that Ez was on his way. Henry enjoys bathing Colin, wrapping Colin, changing Colin, dressing Colin, putting Colin to bed, feeding Colin, throwing Colin at me. Th...

Ezra and I often play footsies. It's very romantic.

Continuing the Henry theme, here is a montage of feet from when he was thirty six days old. FYI, Henry is in the middle. As of Sunday, he is rapidly nearing his mother.

Number two in today's 'tired' series, here we can see four feet. I wear size fourteen shoes, and struggle for choice in footwear. I would wager that both Henry and Ezra will wear size sixteen or above, and will probably be stuck with cardboard boxes stuffed with rags for shoes. It shall be a hard life. [In a quick reader response, I can announce that Ezra is up to 3.9 kilograms, up from 2.9 birth weight. That would be down to the non-stop feeding.]