Brussels...but not the sprout

Seriously could NOT have found a happier man alive at this moment!! Street corner escagot anyone? *behind him is the beer festival that was essentially like a huge fraternity party in the states*

These Belgiums L-O-V-E their beer! They love it so much, they want to see how drunk they really are.They don't drive, but they volunteer and stand in line just to see what a silly day of drinking their really strong beer can do their blood alcohol.

Before I pollute your mind with the next photo, this is the magnificent piece of architure I'm speaking of. Behold what was under it....

We stopped by one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture in all of Brussles to find they were celeberating the Jamican people by having a festival in their honor..let's ponder that for just a moment. People of Brussels....Jamica? It was the greatest concentration of smelly white people with dread locks we've ever encountered. And underneath the magnificent piece of architecture (see above), was what most men would simply find as, a more magnificent piece. A public urinal that is out for the all the world to see. No need to pee in the bushes when you have this mere feet from where you are eating a "special" brownie. I tried to keep from inhaling the sometimes suspicious air in hopes that none on the pot fumes would get to my itty bitty innocent fetus.

Let's go back a few years in the fine walls of academica at Pulaski Academy. I'll set the stage, Mrs. Blackburn's Advanced Writing class, second period, Senior year. I worked my butt off in this class. Working, slaving, draft after draft I would write. Mainly because we were assigned to, but I guess that's what you sign up for when the class is labeled "advanced." It's the end of the year and she hands me my grade. 93.4%. Seeing as a a 94% was an "A" at that pressure cooker college prep school, I was displeased to see I was one tenth of a point away, especially knowing how hard I had worked! Boldly, I walk into Mrs. Blackburn's classroom and look at her squirrely little self and asked (politely I might add) about my grade. All in the high hopes that by this couragous act she would throw me a bone and give me the tenth of a point I need. I said, "Mrs. Blackburn, I have a 93.4%." She looks at me and says smuggly, "yes, that's what you've earned." I have no problems with this, but I reply, "yes, but I have slaved over this class and have given it my all, you've even pointed out how hard I've worked and I really think there should be some reward for effort here." And with her big magnified coke bottle glasses she looked up at me and says, "well, you write like you talk." (**crickets chirping in the room**) Taken a little off guard I said, "Is there a problem with that?" She looked back at me with a grin that to this day I want to smack off her face and replied, "yes, that's not how you're supposed to write. It's not like you are having a conversation with someone." Awesome. I finished the year with a crappy "B." This long story was for two reasons, the first being, it was incredibly cathartic. The second being, I hope if you are reading this, you don't mind me sounding like you're having a converstaion with me. Apparently this is some kind of writers offense. I like talking to me. I talk to me all the time. Read at your own risk.

Brussels came and went in a flash. It was shockingly cold, or it may have been that we just came from 100 plus degrees so anything below 60 felt cold. We were literally there for 24 hours before heading over to Lisbon, Portgual. We managed to see A LOT of the city regardless of jetlag. These people love them some beer! It was 10am and everyone was already drinking at the cafes and then in city center they were having a beer festival. The line to buy tokens was wrapped around the block and I hadn't even eaten breakfast. Seriously, beer at 10am. Gross.

There are a few things you might think of when it comes to Belgium, chocolate and waffles...or waffles with chocolate on them. You are hardpressed to walk down the street and not see one of these in every other persons hand. Waffles are one of my faves, so after a very long day of walking...and by long I mean a good 6-8 miles, I broke down and had a lighter version with fresh strawberry topping. Delish I tell you! We have batter, they have dough. They are like little balls of dough, more like bread and they stretch it to fit on the waffle iron. I might go for the super bad version on our way back out in 6 weeks. We'll see if I need to put on a few pregnancies pounds before I head back to the states. I would hate to be too skinny on the doctors scale. ;) If anyone ever tried to introduce South Beach or the Atkins Diet in Europe, they would heckle you, HECKLE YOU I SAY, out of the country!! These people throw down some pastires 24/7 here! And I heart these people for it.

Ragan found his first love, and by this I don't mean me, with some street corner escargot. He was the happiest man alive at that moment!! Especially after he ate them and proclaimed, "these are the BEST things I've ever eaten in my life!!" He kept offering me one, and seeing as his love for them was so great, it was a real love offering. And one that made me want to throw up because the smell was just too overwhelming.

Alright, we're off to Portugal.