What's wrong with this picture?!?

Mum left this morning for Georgia. 71 years old and driving for three days. What a wonder. Car filled up with gifts (Since when did ketchup chips count as a gift? Since they don't have them in the States!). She'd parked her car in "my" garage for easier packing and when she started it up this morning at 6:45 am, it wouldn't turn over.
"Rrrrrr."
"Rrrrrr."
"Rrrrr."
Really, that's not what I wanted to hear when my mother is about to drive for three days on interstate highways in another country. Normally, I don't worry about her but now I'm expecting to head to New England tomorrow on a rescue mission. Well, that is, after we check out the Pugwash Christmas Farmers' Market and Craft Fair.
I wonder how long it will take the cats and the dogs to realize Nana is gone...for longer than a week. And we're going to have to hire someone to drive Stella to Tim Horton's every day for a timbit.

Has any other man looked more gobsmacked by his wife? I suppose some might say Dwayne must look like this a lot. The expression, that is, not the lights.
This happened in the two hours today that I felt good. Had to get the lights done this weekend, had to get some shopping done this afternoon because I spent the last two days in the house in pajamas, mostly sleeping. All this activity brought the cold is back with a vengeance so it's early to bed tonight. Brutal: lost my voice and was awake all Friday night with a sinus headache so bad, it made me sick to my stomach.
So consider this therapeutic.

I have one of those colds that comes out of nowhere, the kind that wakes you in the middle of the night with a nasty sore throat and you think, "Where the hell did this come from?"
I was ON FIRE on Monday, working really well, being very creative. I came home and ran on the treadmill before supper - I really did! I was so pleased to be working out and not feeling any pain in any joints.
then 3 am Tuesday morning, BAM. So I've been fighting this cold since then but I did too much yesterday so now it is settled into my left sinus (by this afternoon, it will have switched to my right sinus) and my larnyx.
Yes, folks, I have no voice.
"Whooopeeee!" my husband said this morning when he found out.
He thought that was hysterically funny.
"It hasn't affected my ears," I told him.
Thankfully, I was able to send my book proposal to an agent who responded ON THE SAME DAY I SENT THE QUERY LETTER - pause for a moment in respect of that unusual occurrence - and said of my letter and Chapter One, "It's very good." She requested the proposal and has now said I can expect to hear from her in a month. Well, it's almost December so likely January which is fine because this coming month is so busy.
The big obstacle to getting an agent and finding a publisher is proving that my book is unique enough to compete with the other memoirs about taking care of a parent with dementia that are on the market. And there are a lot. A new one just came out that links a mother's dementia with her recipes. That's how narrow the uniqueness margin is. So no worries, no pressure. Just a teeny tiny wedge of the market for my book to squeeze into. No problem.
Wish me luck.

Now, I am going back to bed because, well, I feel like crap and the wind is blowing hard and it's a cold, bitter wind even though it's sunny and I have to get feeling well enough to put up the outdoor Christmas lights this afternoon because we always have the house lit up by the time my in-laws drive back from the Christmas parade in Oxford, which is tonight.
Whoopee!

*******
Have nixed the plan to hang lights. The wind is too cold, even for me. I still feel like a barrel of crap (upgraded from bag) so I took a cold pill and will do up my notes for my next In Conversation With... piece and write my New Year's column. Yes, it's time for that already. We do up our weekly paper early and I'll be away and I already know what I want to say, short and sweet, so I might as well do it while under the influence of drugs.

Damn.
The acupuncture didn't work.
For a few years, we've been passing a sign on Robie Street in Halifax that declares "I Stop Pain" and after Dwayne's surgery was cancelled, I found the phone number and made an appointment for him. That was yesterday.
I was so hopeful it would help with the pain; maybe not take it away entirely but give him some relief, make it seem possible for the pain to go away.
No such luck. No fault of the acupuncturist; the injury is simply too serious.
I don't know how he is living with the pain. It's in his face, how hard it is. He's trying so hard to avoid popping heavy-duty painkillers other than at bedtime but how much longer he can cope like that is anyone's guess.
On Sunday night, he showed me bruising by his right collarbone. He doesn't know what caused it; he doesn't remember doing anything on Sunday that hurt. I hugged him and started to cry. I'm scared for him. The pain is one thing but I know he's worried that it's getting worse and there won't be a fix for it. I know he's worried about losing the use of his right arm.

Archie, friendly, snuggly, cute-enough-to-eat Archie, is slowly breaking Fern down. Closer, closer...

This is Fern's "I'm quite capable of licking my own foot, thank you very much," face.
I just hope she doesn't eat him.

One year ago to this date (it was a Friday last year), we brought Abby home.
November 2011: 

November 2012:

Abby has brought a lot of joy to our world. A lot of bounce, too. She's a regular in our bed (attachment parenting gone wrong) and when Archie grows up, he'll have a very devoted friend in Abby.