The Weekend in Pictures

Saturday. We head to Long Bay. A glorious day to be at the beach...

I like the way I caught that spotty towel.

Love the energy in this photo, even though it's a little out of focus.

Funny how when autumn starts people avoid the beach. Even on days like these.

All the better for us. I love an empty beach, don't you?

Saturday Night. It's a double date with Gail and Mr Diva-ish {Team B}.

We are taking them on at mini golf {not many people know what a truly romantic game mini-golf is. Really.}

Waiting for them in the carpark I snapped these...

The pink harbour.

The moody train track.

The fiery sky.

The street lights.

Then Team B arrived and the fun begins.
Team B are fierce.

We needed to bring our A-game as Gail has a wicked golf stance.
Mr Diva-ish is deceptively mellow. Underneath his "Mr Nice Guy" smile, he is super duper competitive.

Mr Diva-ish is not afraid of a Big T-Rex

The game was tight.
I hit a flukish hole-in-one. There was some cheering. I might have had tears in my eyes, I won't deny it.
Mr G stopped calling me "Donna" and starting calling me "hunny" after that. Oh yeah. My husband is another fierce competitor.
It went down to the wire.

On the 18th hole we were behind. All Mr Diva-ish had to do for them to win was score seven or under.
He scored nine.
Tee Hee.
We were victorious, but humble.
At least I was. Mr G couldn't help gloating, especially after Team B had laughed at him for scoring a seven on another hole. Like I am talking, loud guffaws.
I can neither confirm nor deny that Mr G sped up alongside their car as they exited with their heads hanging low. He may have wound down his window. There might have a been a victory salute and some wahoo-ing.
But apparently Mr Diva-ish never forgets.

We have a friendly game of grown up laser strike planned for two weeks time. So I guess he may have his revenge. *giggle*

Sunday. Meet Dave.
He/she has adopted us. Started hanging around our back door looking woeful and sad.
His/her big green eyes blinking at us commanding our sympathy.
Mr G is not a cat person. Or any kind of pet person. He had a tortoise when he was a kid, but he spun it on its shell and it died. We did try goldfish for a while. They died too.
Our kids have been begging for a pet for years. Since the goldfish's demise. Something to cuddle and love.
They love Dave.
They want Dave.

Mr G was resisting but feeling very outnumbered. {I was playing "Switzerland"}
Til he turned on the radio and heard Tom Jones: "What's up Pussycat? Woahaoaoah..."
and wondered... is this meant to be?

Mr G makes phone calls, knocks on doors up and down the neighbourhood trying to find Dave's real home. No luck.

Then later as we are about to leave for the beach Mr G turns on the radio and hears: "All by myself... don't wanna be... all by myself... anymooooooore..."
As the song plays, Dave blinks sadly at Mr G through the door. It was a like a movie.
And Mr G caved. He's a softy at heart. Really.
{But sssshhhh, don't tell him I said}

I've just ordered some cat food on the online shopping.
So I guess we might turn out to be pet people after all.
The kids are ecstatic.

Looks like Dave the Cat could be here to stay...?

Sunday Night. Mr G finishes off Level Two of the Tree House/fort, while the kids bounce on the trampoline...

And Scrag takes a nasty tumble, bumping his head on the metal trampoline frame. Blood pours from the gash on his forehead. Like, pouring. Miss Fab starts crying in sympathy at the sight of all that blood, while we run around bellowing, "Get in the car, we're taking him to A&E!!"

He's fine now, after some Liquid Stitches. And an impressive bandage.
Brave Sweet Scrag.

So. The sun has set on our very busy weekend.

How was yours?