(My) photo of the day

Jen, Hen and I all went in for the 20 week scan today. I do love it when hospitals book you in for eight o'clock but you don't get seen until nine. The less said about the organisational standards about that place, the better!

Everything went well and the baby is going great guns, it has all the bits you would expect and is a fine looking creature. We didn't get given a disc with pictures on it this time; otherwise I would have picked one of those for my photo of the day. As it is, I've gone with a photo taken in the room where Jen had her ultrasound. If you've ever been to an ultrasound, you will know that they keep it pretty dark in there. This should explain the use of the flash.

It's not a great quality photo, but the sign did make me laugh. As to its content I only have one thing to say: "I should hope so!"

Comments

Megan said…

nice note! Since I'm sans kids I haven't had the ultrasound in the dark experience, but I'll be prepared now.

26 March 2008 at 15:20

Kris McCracken said…

At least you can be confident that the probes have all been wiped clean!

26 March 2008 at 15:39

Sue said…

My God...I do hope they are more than just wiped! When having Zac...I had to have an internal ultrasound at an early stage of the pregnancy due to complications! I would like to think that little probe was clean and sterile and ultra scrubbed! Yeeew!

27 March 2008 at 09:25

Kris McCracken said…

I'd like to think that the internal probes are at least soaked first!

29 March 2008 at 09:01

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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