This will hurt me...

Here is my sweet little baboo. He's very happy here. As a special treat, please note Henry's feet in the background...

There were some very interesting clouds behind our house this morning, as Henry and I conducted our regular reconnaissance looking for the moon. he sky was pink out the front, and deep orange in the backyard. This photo doesn't quite do it justice. After a slight misconception the other day, I was give to ponder which was more embarrassing: to be a man mistaken for a woman, or a woman mistaken for a man?

Run Henry, RUN! Here you can see Henry escaping from a cursed goblet belonging to the villainous zombie pirate LeChuck. Or maybe it's a statue dedicated to Tasmanian blue gums. I can't remember now.

From a few weeks back, when it snowed. I think this one is very "1970s Yugoslavia". Here's a poem pilfered from an overheard 'conversation' in the bus mall. Oh, the humanity! Thirteen years old. Grossly obese. "I fucken chundered EVERYWHERE " A moment, she reflected. "It was fucken AWESOME ." An evolutionary milestone.

It's Ezra, it's up close, and by christ I have a rotten headache. Camomile hasn't dented it, nor has paracetamol. This is going to take trading in the toddler for a goldfish.

Mein Gott , it is Theme Thursday already! Is it just me, or are Thursdays rolling around far more quickly ever since I signed up to this thing? As with every week, I have before me a challenge to locate an image that I have taken and pen some words around a theme completely independent of my choosing. As always, I’m struggling. This week? EARTH . So I have a photo that I like to think is pretty representative of the Earth. You have your trees there. Some clouds. The ocean. Some sand and rocks. You’ve got seagulls and molluscs. Grass there in the background too. That’s the kind of Earth that I like. But I got to thinking, which always spells trouble. If I am from this planet called Earth, and I’m happy enough here, am I able to identify as an Earthling ? Let’s face it, I struggle enough with identity most of the time. I think of myself as being from Burnie , and I have no shame in telling people that. I also identify (proudly) as a North West Coaster . Of course, I’m a Tasmanian befo

Here are my three favourite people in a familiar situation to anyone with a toddler. Grouped together is mother, father (behind the lens) and baby, with toddler straying well behind to inspect various bits of gravel, rocks, grasshoppers, chip packets, empty cans, cigarette butts, bloodied syringes and broken glass. Eventually he catches up, but only after a multitude of threats and at least one [slow] count to five. Toddlerism is a kind of dementia, as is the state that one lapses into while being a parent to a toddler. We love him nonetheless.

No it is not a webcam, but this photograph was taken a mere forty-five ago on my way in to work. Here you can see a good old fashioned Hobart autumn morning, with the rain pelting down and me getting drenched. This one was taken on the corner of Macquarie and Elizabeth, while I was waiting for the lights to change. Come on Ampelmännchen ! Today is my wedding anniversary, an apparently I need to be showering Jen with leather -related goodies. Va-va-vaVOOM! To you Jennifer, here is a poem I wrote this very morning. Anniversary I love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE you I love YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I LOVE YOU iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou Happy anniversary

Here are my two little grumblers in the Japanese Garden on Good Friday. The blanket that you can see them sitting on is a little project completed by my lovely wife for Ezra. It's a counterpart to one that has made numerous appearances already that was made for Henry (here is a good one that Ezra has modelled ). I should also mention that Ez's jumper is also the handiwork of the talented Jen. I chose the buttons, which in many respects is the most difficult part. Continuing our endeavour to ensure that Henry and I managed to traverse the world of cuisine before he hits five, this evening we made our very first kugel . For the uninitiated, the kugel is a traditional baked Jewish side dish that comes in all manner of flavours, sweet and savoury. We turned to the humble kugel in an attempt to broaden Henry's mind to vegetables. Our attempt featured sweet potato, carrot, potato and apple . It goes all right. Well worth a crack if they refuse the veggies. If anyone has any sim

Some kind soul has left this message on down in Salamanca. If I were the vandal-type, I'd be penning some of Schiller's exhortations left right and centre. The dude sure could fire people up!

Here is the cranky terror of the deep State of Tasmania himself. I think that we must have more teeth on the way given his mood all weekend. I did manage to snap this one of him in an executive mood. Consider yourself lucky that you're seeing a smile and not hearing a wail...

I asked Jen to pick the image for today, and she opted for the "stone wall". Of course, this is no stone wall viewed from below, it's the water in Sullivan's Cove viewed from above! I took this one just next to the tilt bridge near the fish punts. That must read very oddly to a non-English speaker, one would imagine. Easter Monday, and I have still managed to avoid chocolate eggs. It will be quite an accomplishment if I make it right way through unscathed. I noted in the comments thread about a work colleague of a reader who was offended by my bemusement at the whole Easter tale. Now, I respect everybody's right to be offended at whatever they like, but like that Jesus fellow apparently said himself, do unto others and all that jazz. You see, I can happily endorse that Byrds track Jesus Is Just Alright , because Jesus sounded like a nice fellow. I can't say that there is too much different about our respective approaches to life. So, in the spirit of Jesus,

On Good Friday we all ventured off to the Botanical Gardens to inspect the Japanese Garden and the shrine that Henry insists was built for him. I'm not sure that I believe him, but after I have sat here watching him dancing to a melody of hits from the 1980s and 1990s (his jig to Nena's 99 Luftballoons is worthy of Leroy from Fame), I am quite sure that someone somewhere someday will erect a statue of some form or another.

Here is a seagull sitting on by the dock on the bay estuary. This one was leering ever so seedily at some Swedish backpackers who were eating chips on the dock. One might assume that the chips were being eyed off, but did you know that studies have shown that 10 to 15 percent of female western gulls in some populations in the wild are lesbians? Sometimes the things that I hear on the bus can be easily turned into poems of great profundity. Boyfriend my bloody computer doesn't work shitloads of software doesn't work heaps of memory doesn't work a thousand bucks doesn't work he made me breakfast this morning but he doesn't work