Fat Bottomed Girls - They Make the Rockin' World Go Round

I live out in the countryside. (I think I may have mentioned that before!) One of the first things I noticed here were the cattle. My grandfather always had a couple head, sometimes dairy, sometimes beef, so I had entry level knowledge of eastern Canadian breeds. But this Belgian breed was new to me. So I turned to my favourite resource for information – GOOGLE.

                                     Googling ‘Belgian cattle breeds’ brought me to Belgian Blue.

The Belgian Blue has a natural mutation of the gene that codes for myostatin, a protein that counteracts muscle growth, leading to “double-muscling”. In other words, the body’s natural ability to prevent the over-growth of muscle tissue is impeded. This mutation also interferes with fat deposition, resulting in very lean meat.

 ‘My’ Belgian Blues live about 2 kilometers from my house and I have come to know them as Big Daddy and the Girls, Big Daddy being the bull who always accompanies the Girls.

                                                            That's Big Daddy in the middle

Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid – Today’s senior moment

I started the day  with the greatest of intentions. I was going to accomplish a lot. The moving company is coming tomorrow to pick up the empty boxes and I planned to get them out of the basement. I was going to drive into Chievres Air Base to pick up the queen size bedframe I had ordered and a turkey for Sunday. I had planned to bake some Chocolate Chip Banana muffins. It was going to be a busy day.

I had just about finished moving the boxes to the foyer when the gate buzzer rang. I looked out the door sidelight to see a Belgian Federal Police officer standing at my gate. Naturally, I opened the gate and then the door. Because Rhea (our dog) was barking, I grabbed a set of keys and closed the door. I wasn’t sure why the officer was here. I had been a witness to an accident a few weeks ago. The other alternative was a residency visit which can happen when foreign national moves to Belgium. That must have been what was going through my mind when I closed the door. It turns out it was the later.

The officer had a two page questionnaire. He wanted to go inside to complete it. I went to unlock the door, the key would not turn. I wiggled the keys, no luck.

Let me tell you a little about Belgian locksets. They don’t have deadbolts. They lock automatically when you close the door. You have to use a key to lock and unlock the supplementary latches, whether inside or out. And most importantly, IF there is a key in the lock on the inside, you cannot unlock your door from the outside.

It was then that I peeked through the sidelight to see a set of keys hanging from the inside lock. Oh, crap!! So I had my Federal Police interview, standing on my stoop.

The epilogue to this sorry tale has me driving 30km into SHAPE, no phone; no license; and calling Perry from the Guard house for his garage remote and 20 euros for gas.

PS: I did manage to get the bedframe, turkey and the boxes to the garage.