All the great speakers were bad speakers at first.

Here is an angry little bloke trying to get into the storage room at the Geilston Bay Community Centre. Now, yes I am a member of the Board, but I am unsure as to whether that grants access for all of my family to the treasure trove within.

A stickler for process, I've had to yellow card Ez for his transgression, and put him on notice...

Comments

yamini said…

But why can't you let him in? Dear Ez surely doesnt mean any harm to the place. He is just curious like kids are..

I think you should take back that yellow card and the notice and let this cute little bloke to have a peek at the storage room.

4 September 2009 at 21:03

Priyanka Khot said…

hahaaha Curious Case of Ezra McCracken! You yellow carded him, but i am sure u must have had a peep inside urself... do enlighten on what was behind the door. I am curious too.

I love his cheeks. I would absolve him of any crime just for being so so so CUTE!

4 September 2009 at 21:54

Roddy said…

In the beginning there was no language. Then unfortunately we learnt to talk. Have we learnt anything? No! We won't shut up.
I notice that you have something that has grabbed the young Ezras' eye. What might it be? Or is it just the sound of your voice that has attracted his attention?
This kid is so good looking! Don't tell Henry though as I believe he thinks that the looks are all in his department.

4 September 2009 at 22:05

Sarah said…

If you allowed him to go into...,then what would be happen??

5 September 2009 at 03:32

Roddy said…

I have seen behind this door and wasn't all that impressed. However Ezra would probably have a ball. Was he allowed in today at playgroup?

5 September 2009 at 12:48

Kris McCracken said…

Hello all, the main reasons concerns the abundance of SCISSORS in there...

8 September 2009 at 08:45

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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