The Hills Were Alive

Not with the sound of music, but of the 5 of us, together.
It was good in the Ardennes.
Peaceful-ish.

We rented a holiday house in Vielsalm, only 45 square meters.
I thought we would drive each other nuts, but the proximity was blissful, actually.
The big downer was that the poor husband was - still is - sick as an old sea dog, but even then he took the boys swimming, looking for wild boars in the woods, picking up wood, and for mini golf.
The husband is a great dad.
I can cook and clean and complain.
The 3 Cs quite prevalent in my life.

On Saturday, we went to PlopsaCoo, close to the Coo Waterfalls.

 
The boys had fun, went on rides, we ate french fries and drank beer, then back to the holiday home. 

Cold but cozy.
Last night, we came home late, and Son#1 only managed to go to bed at 23h00.
Sigh.

Meanwhile, my dad got a different form of morphine which we're hoping will help, and a higher dose of his existing pain medication, which is also showing less pain so far.
Hang in there you old fart!

Today I'll have to study my behind off, which I wish could be literal, because my behind has grown to enormous proportions, prompting me to go for a fast walk this morning.
Everything feels tight.
All my clothes.
Son#2 even remarked - with admiration, poor innocent dear:  Wow!  You have fat legs!  You must be very strong!

Shoot them or Hug them.
Sometimes the two go hand-in-hand.


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