About two hours after writing my last blog post I came down with the most violent stomach bug I’d ever encountered. No doubt I got it from my mom, who’d suffered through a 24-hour onslaught while we were at the farm. Right around the time I barfed my guts out, brother #2 texted to say my niece was sick; a few hours later brother #1 relayed that he was also laid low. Best guess is that it’s Norovirus.

So I spent a pretty good chunk of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day isolating in a basement bedroom, watching Die Hard and Lord Of The Rings. Thankfully, there were cute animals there to keep my spirits up (Lindsay’s mom’s cat is pretty sleep-disruptive though) and Lindsay’s taken care of me without getting herself or anyone else in her family sick. Just to be on the safe side I stayed away from her grandparents.

Last night we drove to an engagement party and then to her dad’s house in St. Margaret’s Bay for a lovely dinner. That house is also full of dogs and cats, and one in particular — a deaf, fluffy, 16-year-old cuddlebug named Maya — completely stole my heart. It was a brutal drive back on a rainy, foggy night, but we’ve arrived downtown to check into our hotel for the final phase of our trip.