Monday 3rd January, 2000

Gracie gets another year older and like everyone in her family, immediate or otherwise, a BBQ is in order. Cousins come from all across the area by the bus-load (well maybe not) to give gifts, eat dead animals and generally socialise. This ceremony repeats itself for the birthdays of every member of this extented family; uncles, aunties, cousins, grandma's, grandpas and what have you. Anyone would think that they were Italian or something. :o)

Anyway, I thought I'd document a typical birthday party to give the world an example of what goes on at these sorts of things... not that you care, but this is my life so like it or lump it! I'll try not to make it too boring for you.

	Here's Gracie's dad, John. He's a bit of a character, he is. He'll tell you a story or a joke, and it'll be funny... and then you'll laugh... and then two weeks later, he'll tell you the same story... and you'll still laugh. On the third telling... you dont laugh so much.
	This is what's know as a SHITLOAD of onions, or as everyone in Gracie's family calls it, "fart material". Theres never a shortage of onions at these BBQs.
	The best part about these parties is the desserts. Cakes, slices, cheesecakes, profriteroles, tirimissou... it's all here for your consumtion.
	Here I am eating the afforementioned cheesecake. I think I'll stop reporting on the journey of this particular slice of cheesecake right here.
	Gracie doing the blowing-out-of-the-candles thing. We all sing Happy Birthday, and out they go. Pretty standard birthday affair here.
	The cutting of the cake. Note the motion blur on the knife illustrating the high velocity at which the cake was sliced... maybe...
	"So this is a digital camera is it?" CLICK! Gracie's cousin Mark. Mark sings and play's bass in local Shepparton band Cirkus, and is generally a top bloke, although his head is not actually this big.
	Here's a shot of the indoors portion of the party. Sitting at the left we have my Mum and Dad generally having a ball as you can clearly see. Notice the enthusiasm my Dad displays in removing the lable from the soft drink bottle.

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