< ![CDATA[  It is our last night in Belgium. The skies are grey. It may rain overnight. We hope not. We spent today doing house keeping and touring Bruges again. The highlight for the children was a big twist of vanilla ice cream on a very pointy Belgian waffle cone. The highlight for me was wandering through the cavernous chapel of Basilique de Sacre-Sang wondering at whose feet had worn these stones smooth over the centuries before mine. Tony had to rebuild the stoves before he could fix dinner... again. There is some additive the euro gas that seems to be gumming up the interior works of our burners. He patiently worked away, humming to the music on his i-pod, playing aloud on the tarp. When Old Crow Medicine Show came on he hopped up and extended a hand to dance. We always dance to their music in the kitchen while I’m cooking at home. Why should a grassy tent field in Belgium be any different? We got a few strange looks from the college kids camped around us: Two crazy people dancing to music they couldn’t hear because they were too far away, child sandwiched between them yelling, “I’m the CHEESE!” It is our ritual. Ezra loves being the cheese. Dinner is over. Kids are stowed in the tent. As I walked off with the last load of laundry for the week I could hear Hannah reading “Belgian Twins” aloud to the boys. She took over this book and is quite disturbed that Gabe read ahead without her. A cardinal sin in our family. The little boys are still listening with rapt attention. She does voices for them, just like Daddy does. Tony is washing dishes. Meg is watching the news in French (“Mrs. Miller, is that french?!”) while she waits to call home. I am waiting on the wash to finish so I can get it dried and get back into my warm little tent. I’m hoping to still have time to knit.]]>