It's all relative

When I took this pic I was spitting nails that this washout (yet another) would keep Doog from doing the one thing he wanted to do in the Northern Territory: fish for barramundi, sans touristes, in the Daly River, a hidden gem known only to those in the know.

But then later, feeling sorry for myself yet again (!!) and getting some consolation by trolling the internet to plan a side trip to Lesotho on our next trip (to South Africa in June), I came across this little tidbit:

"If the women are selling Sotho food and beer, the guide will obtain a sample for those willing to taste barbecued mice."

So here's the thing: rain and heat and crap food and a soggy tent and boiled rice aside, there is no barbecued mouse in my gut and for that reason alone, I vow to stop my sad-sack complaining. Amen.