Can't write log, eating.

Saturday, after watching the clones attack with my nephew Luke, I had dinner at my brother's. Luke's review of Attack of the Clones was not good. Essentially, the final battle is not worth the wait even if you doze off in the middle.

Sunday was Katey's family birthday roast dinner at Joleka, followed by Becky nuding it up for some underwater photography of a light trap for reef fish (honest).

Monday was Katey's other birthday dinner at Frank's Pizza Napoli and Vesuviana Restaurant. Nobody finished their veal parmigiana, as usual.

Tuesday was pizza and videos at Commander Ironbark's with the usual suspects and special guest interlocutors Simon and Mikey, without the videos but with extra conversation.

Wednesday was back to my brother's for beer and pizza and a State of Origin game that was about as interesting as pizza the second night in a row.

Thursday I got to eat the pasta I cooked last Friday before visiting Chris and crushing my scooter's exhaust pipe on his driveway.

Friday evening was Attack of the Clones with Warwick and Dan and Dave and Lawrie and Chris. This time the person sitting next to me didn't stick his salty buttered fingers into the Coke by mistake, point out the bad guys loudly and occasionally incorrectly, or clamber onto my lap for a sleep; however he did mutter to himself and chortled loudly when Shmi died.  ¶ 00:50