Holding hands.

I had quite the weekend.

We went to a village in Olancho, which is about as rural as it gets. This is a picture of Morgan, not me, but it gives a good idea of the area.

Sylvi and I stayed with Dilma and her family. They are raising 7 grandchildren, from 14 mos. to 10 years. The kids were so fun, and really wore me out. We played a lot.

-swinging on the swing and in the hammock, and spinning them in the air

-hide and seek in the dark outside

-pedaling a bike with Belkie, 9, sitting on the crossbar

-swimming in the river, with a current so strong it was hard to cross

-letting them do our hair (Tanya, 3, tried to comb my hair with a shoe polish brush several times when I wasn´t looking)

-washing clothes on a washboard and rock

-giving two little girls a bath. (To do this, we poured cold well water over their heads and rubbed them with soap that looked like sidewalk chalk, while they stood, shivering, so disciplined).

We also ground corn to make tortillas, and tried to pat the dough into tortillas. The 96-year-old ¨Papi¨stood by and laughed at us, ¨No puede! No puede!¨(You can´t do it!) Ha ha.

We ate meals with our busdriver, Olvin, who is really nice. We shared lots of laughs, including about our plan to do one more push-up every day so we can do 70 by the time we leave Honduras. (We are only at 11).

While washing clothes, we met Meri, who was my friend Maree´s host last spring. We visited her house later, and she gave us Pepsi. What a wonderfully warm and neat lady.

¨Belkie, do you think it´s strange that I´m 21 but don´t know how to wash clothes or make tortillas?¨

¨No.¨

¨You can tell me the truth.¨

¨Yes.¨