As Fio walked Sonia Dog up the drive this morning, she (Fio, not Sonia) spotted something orange in the woods, and Fio being Fio, she delivered Sonia unto Husband's hands and went back up the driveway to check it out. A copperhead? Her copperhead? Alas, no. It was a Reese's Pieces wrapper.
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Fiorella is happy. She is finally putting it all together--her novella, that is. She's got the plot all worked out, the high drama sexplosions situated, and a quarter of the book actually written, Tomorrow she'll cut and paste everything into the right sequence, then start rolling everything together. She's planning for it to be finished by the end of the month. Or so she hopes.
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Fio doesn't know about you, but she's getting tired of The Donald. It was sort of fun to follow him from train wreck to train wreck at first, but now his act is growing whiskers. Maybe he could start turning cartwheels or, gosh, being nice.
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