On the good side of this past week, all Christmas shopping--apart for ourselves--was complete. This may be the first year in memory that I won't be shopping on Christmas Eve. In addition, we have succeeded in escaping the family Christmas Day dinner and will take it ourselves with Pimpernel and Henrietta, where I will present her with her own picture book.
On the bad side, two days of unusual torrential rains cancelled KiKi's picnic. On top of that, I foolishly went to the market Friday night when it stopped raining going through a huge puddle into the curb. In the tumble, I sprained my right hand, Now I know what Bette Davis felt like in Dead Ringer. On Saturday I had to painfully scrawl my name on a pile of holiday cards as Leopoldo likes that old touch; I felt like screaming with every "A...". No harm done, and they got mailed. In addition, I had to cancel a post-Christmas party. It has been a weekend of pills and pain, although my right forefinger and thumb are fine enough to type.

And poor KiKi. I visited yesterday only to find him as disoriented as ever. It isn't long before you wonder if you'd ever want to get that way, walking into a closet and not finding your way out. This will be the first crisis of the New Year.