Anzac Day

Did not go unnoticed at this particular emigrant's house.  In what's becoming a bit of a habit (hasn't been happening long enough yet to be a tradition) for Australian public holidays, I made meat pies for dinner.  I'm so glad I picked up those pie pans last time I was home!

Mmmmmmmm... dinner of champions! (And yes, our counters really are that pink.)

I'm actually getting pretty good at this meat pie making business.  This was about my third go round, I think, and they've all tasted about right.  There were a couple left over, which Daniel took to work for lunch today.  One our friends, Jason, "remembered" me promising to make one for him apparently.  Strangely enough, he only remembered after Daniel told him what a meat pie is!  Apparently he enjoyed it, so all's well that ends well.  It's another step forward in my campaign to convince people that they ought to actually cook the food they eat for themselves (birthdays and special occasions notwithstanding).

We took a wander through our collection of Australian music, and I regaled - or more likely bored - Daniel for about the three hundredth time with the story of how I finally came to understand the importance of Anzac Day when I was living in Wongan Hills and went to the dawn service one year.  I know I've told you all about it, too, so I will at least save you from the boredom this time around.

And on a side note, a very strange thing happened that evening.  I spotted the furry folk sitting within spitting distance of each other, but they weren't (spitting, that is).  This is such a rare occurrence, that I had to grab the camera and record it for posterity.

Maggie looks as though she might be about ready to spit in Dobie's eye, but she didn't.  I annoyed them so much with the camera flash that they both left the back of the couch in a huff.