Katt Out of Hell! Or Back in it?

This last weekend was a potpourri of circumstances here in Cloud Cuckoo Land – that is if potpourri smells like cow manure?   Saturday was spent on my own, slogging away at the keyboard, sulking because Flyboy was out having fun, flying off to game farms and I couldn't go with because yet again, I had to work over a weekend.  For interest sake, The Viking said I was being unfair because what did I expect?  For Flyboy to sit at home just because I couldn't go out?  Yes, yes, and yes!  *Stomp Stomp Tantrum Tantrum*  Me?  Unreasonable?  NEVER!

 

The keyboard sonata ended at about 15:00 Sunday afternoon – Flyboy's Strange Employers mustn't know that I actually *gasp* worked on a Sunday!   But I managed to salvage the last few hours of the day when Flyboy and I went fishing.  Yep, I finally took my new shoes for a test drive!   And these little off-road babies handle like champs – not once did I slip on the rocks.  We even managed to catch a few smallish bass and Houndus Maximus loves going fishing, especially the release part.   Yesterday for the first time he succeeded in catching a released one before it got away.  It is quite amusing to watch a pointer/retriever acting like a grizzly bear.   He pounced on it with both front paws and looked at me with a "Did you see what I did?" look.  I am so proud of you, Baby Dog!   And by the way, you have been accepted to Cambridge University, the papers came last week, my little genius!

 

After a lengthy discussion with Flyboy about "Why Life on the Farm Sux" we went out for supper.  Or what was supposed to resemble supper.   Flyboy ordered the 1 kg T-bone and yours truly picked what was described as a chicken fillet (chickens have fillets?) done in a mushroom sauce and topped with a shrimp and cheddamelt sauce.   Honestly, they might as well have just liquidised the chicken, put the schlop in a bowl and given me a spoon.  It was so rich I couldn't get through half of it in time to find the elusive chicken fillet.   But, Flyboy to the rescue, the man consumed his T-bone and finished my gloop!  He is an ex-Namibian and I sometimes think he has Bushman blood in him.   He will eat a meal large enough to feed a small African country and then not eat another thing for three days.  He also finished my Drommetjie Petrol (also known in the civilised world as a Dom Pedro).

 

On the way home, my sweet, darling hunk of junk of a jalopy finally decided that seeing as Flyboy was neglecting her, she would now stop!   Or threaten to stop and then stop and then threaten again, and stop.  She has officially been renamed Metallica because she makes you head bang.

 

Today dawned gloriously bright and sunny!  And off to town I go on a mission to replace Relay Number 30 (sounds almost like Mumbo Number 5), walk into the VW agents, fork out R125.00 for Relay Number 30 and then proceed to roll around like a mechanic in the road to install Relay Number 30 (the guys who read this blog had so better be impressed).  The Coke truck's staff standing across the road were staring at me like I am possessed.   But who cares?  I am off to go and burn some rubber and test Relay Number 30 out.  I think I slipped a disk in my neck!

 

The good news is being in the fly infested groin of civilisation, the agents can only help me out on Thursday or if I am really lucky, Friday.   Tum de tum te dum te dum!

 

And tonight, oh goodie, I have a meat tanning session because it is Reptile's birthday today!  Fortunately I bought myself a Bellville Briefcase (also known as a 5lt box of wine) and I am going drown my little sorrows and hope the suckers don't learn to swim during the process!   Sho, bring it on, World, I am sho ready for you. *hic*