This vacation is the pits. My hips hurt so bad from all the walking...up hills, down hills, all around the town hills. He did ask me where I wanted to go this year and I told Him, "A resort!" But did He listen to me? Not on your life. We're back to discovering the country. Which means walking my feet off up to my knees and finding sustenance in nuts and berries and peanut butter and jam sandwiches. There's five more friggin' days of His vacation still to endure. I don't know if I can make it. If you don't hear from me in the next week or two, know that I am either deceased from exhaustion or in jail for killing Him.