Breakfast

I like to eat
Shredded Wheat--
Soggy or dry
I testify
It's a treat
That can't be beat

I am replete

Walter Farley, I Knew Ye Well

Fiorella met four wonderful Arabians yesterday when she visited friend Patricia's ranch, a mare, two of her offspring, and the young'ns' uncle.  The uncle was a brindle of grayish-brown flecks on white, the other three were white, and they were all beautiful.  More important, they were all sweet, gently vying for treats and attention like large dogs, but with softer noses.

Wonder how Sonia Dog would react to Fio keeping a horse in the back yard.

Thanks to All

Fiorella is very fortunate to have good friends, like Jason, who is restoring her baby car for her.  And like Lisa, who told her about two tax deductions she needed to take advantage of.  Like Janece, who regularly gives her sympathy and wise council.  Like Suzy and Ellen, who support her across the miles.  Like Pat, whom she's never met in person.  Like Paula and Sharon, who've stood by her through the years.  Like Jamie and Patricia and Claire, who've helped her with electronics.  Like Jane and Jan, who make her laugh.

And if this reads like an acknowledgment page, it is.

Forever Home

Fio and Husband attended a neighborhood association get-together on Sunday afternoon, talked to a lot of people, ate good food, and had a great time.  Then yesterday, when they had parked on the road by the side of their dry creek to pick up rocks for the driveway, their neighbors to the south spotted them and came over to help load the trunk.  And, probably because Husband had turned on the car's hazard lights while he and Fio were so precariously parked, four neighbors who were driving by paused to ask if Fio and Husband were okay.

Fio wants to live here forever.

Dear Diary

Fiorella received a small lockable diary as a birthday present when she turned thirteen, but she didn't know quite how to use it.  In books, stories, and TV mystery shows that Fio has seen in the years since then, young women write their hearts out in their diaries, but Fio thought she was supposed to use it to record her daily schedule.  Monday--school, homework, watched TV.  Tuesday--school, homework, Campfire Girls.  You get the picture.  Her reasoning was that if the police ever asked her where she had been on a certain day at a certain time, she could whip out the diary and prove her innocence.

And also prove what a dork she was.

Up, Up, and Away!

Hold on tight because Fio is on an upswing, probably because of friend Pat's good vibes.  She practiced piano yesterday, finished off all the income tax tallies, concocted a stand-up cone that now holds up a photo for her renovated shelves, left messages for all the people she was supposed to contact, and attended a neighborhood meeting.  Then--wonder of wonders, she integrated the critiques into her novella.

And today she'll (gulp) go through the Allstate information and consider her options.

Too Much, Too Much!

All is not well in FiorellaLand.  She messed up and appeared at the Bee Cave book signing one week early--only about a 130-mile two-way drive--then drove back through Austin to have lunch with nephew Aaron and his wife--again, not realizing she was one week early for that too.  Husband, who did most of the driving, was nice about it, but Fio is still fretting.  She hates to waste time.

Why did Fiorella get a week ahead of herself?  Probably because she's been living in overload--the car issue is still hanging over her (gnashing of teeth), the gentrification of the den is at a standstill, there are still has two phone call messages she needs to answer, she has to send the final income tax information to her CPA and supply him with necessary documents, and then there's her cell phone, which is on the outs.  Oh, and she needs to get back to her novella, which, timewise, is taking longer to write than the Bible.

Lay your hands on this blog and send healing vibes to Fiorella.

Overloaded

Off to a book signing this morning, then will have lunch with nephew Aaron and his lovely bride.  Then will come home and study the information Allstate FINALLY sent to me.  Will I ever have time to write again?

Food

Fiorella is not a foodie.  In fact, she considers food to be much overrated.  We all have to eat, of course, but Fio does not understand the interest in food other than as tasty nourishment.  Cooking shows bore her--or offend her with all the yelling and shaming.  Besides, she sees no reason to vary from the restricted palate she has maintained since childhood.  Milk is her preferred beverage (she's lactose persistent), and she will not eat salads or other mixtures, tomatoes, peanut butter, or pizzas.  Her hamburgers are "plain."  And before you say anything, yes, Fio is in very good health, thank you.

Wondering

It's weird, but when a build up of things happen, then are topped by something like the Allstate debacle,  Fio feels cornered and turns into another person.  Then, afterwards, it takes her a while to find her own identity.

Makes her wonder about a lot of things.

Bad Day

Yesterday was not a good day.  The body shop called to tell Fio that it would cost $1800 to repair her Miata so the adjuster had decided to total it. To make it even worse, the adjuster didn't have the courtesy to make the call herself so Fiorella doesn't even quite understand what is going on except that Allstate is screwing her.

She went into shock, then anger--yes, screaming and ranting are her forte.  Then came the sobbing, the depression and despair.  Finally the dull acceptance, the final stage of grief that Emily Dickinson expressed so well:

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

Related Poem Content Details

BY EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – 

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs – 

The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’ 

And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’? 

The Feet, mechanical, go round – 

A Wooden way 

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought – 

Regardless grown, 

A Quartz contentment, like a stone – 

This is the Hour of Lead – 

Remembered, if outlived, 

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow – 

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

Irony

The very second Fiorella decided to take a long walk, the rain started up again.
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Why is is Fio looks better in the  bathroom mirror than in her selfies?
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Not that Fio's getting any older, but everything about her that supposed to be tight is loosening up--and vice versa.

Rounding out Heaven

Fiorella's heavenly addenda include finding everything of hers she has lost or that someone has taken from her or destroyed, like that autograph book her Brownie mates signed before she left Ohio, her painting of Grendal she took to school in the twelfth grade, her grandmother's and great-grandmother's engagement rings, the ceramic she molded of a beloved guinea pig.

And Fio wants to reunite with her parents (although her father will probably be playing golf with Gabriel and the guys) and to visit with friends and family who have preceded her.  And she wants to cuddle her first baby, the one who was never born, the one for whom she still mourns.  And she wants to see all her dogs--Tina, Freelove, Sandy, Blackie, Hugo, Bella, Wendy, and, when her time comes, sweet Sonia. Heaven wouldn't be heaven without dogs.

Heaven, Heaven

Sunday, an appropriate day to talk about Fiorella's idea of the hereafter.

As she often said, in heaven she will sing.  And she will also draw and paint and design.  And she will move from conversation group to conversation group, deep-down learning Russian and German and French and Spanish and Teleugu and Hindi and Mandarin and every other language available.  And, of course, she will write--essays, poems, short stories, novels, plays, songs.

But she will not clean house.

Taxes, Shelves, Strays

Fiorella finished what she could of the taxes today and sent the rest off to the CPA.  Next year it's going to be easier, with Fio's new business charge card and the file system she's setting up.
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Fio and Husband are working on the shelf wall in the den now.  He doesn't know it, but the shelf wall in the living room comes next.
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Neighborhood update: Gizmo, the large, fluffy friendly dog is loose again. Friend Mickey called Fio to get the name and phone number of the owner.  This may be a continuing story.

Fiorella, alias Nancy Drew

The dog was big, fluffy, friendly, and lost so Fiorella collared him and attached the leash to the wrought iron bench on her front porch, then walked all the way up hill and down to check out the "lost dog" notice that Husband remembered was posted to the telephone pole which functions as the neighborhood bulletin board.  But there was no such sign.  Girding her loins, Fio started the trek home, but Neighbor Mickey, who was driving by, spotted her and stopped in the middle of the road to exchange pleasantries, which is something one can do on a country road.

Mickey said the dog had visited her house too, and her sister was taking care of it.  Nothing for Fio to do but trudge up past her own driveway to Mickey's house, where she learned that Cindy thought the dog was owned by someone on the east end of Wind Ridge Cove.  Fio went home, got the car, drove up to Wind Ridge, took down some addresses because no one was home, returned to the house, and consulted the partial telephone list left over from a neighborhood cedar-chopping project four years before.

The first number she called was a bingo. The Wind Ridge resident told her the name of the woman who owned the dog and supplied a phone number, which Fio dutifully called.  No one was home, of course, but she left a message and expects the dog will be claimed by evening.

The Mystery of the White Dog--solved by tenacity and great detective work.  Applause, please.

  

Revelation

Fiorella's friend Jeanell has had a change of heart.  It is no longer as important for her to have her name out there so everyone knows who wrote her various opuses as it is that her voice gets out there. After all, a name is merely a convenience, a way of telling people apart, but one's creations are the signature of the soul.

Walking, Watching TV, Wondering

Apparently 66 degrees, overcast, no wind is Fiorella's ideal walking weather.  She went twice around the driveway and realized she could easily have made two more rounds.
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Fio turns thumbs down on a new TV show, "Long Lost Family," which reunites adopted children with their birth parents.  There's a lot of yearning and weeping, but does anyone consider how the adoptive parents (the real parents) feel when the joy of their hearts finds them inadequate?
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Why are human beings individuals rather than clones?  Why are we all so different?  Think about it.

Raconteur

Fio knows this is the second Tuesday of the month because that's when she meets with friends Ashley and Carol at Starbucks.  Carol couldn't make it this time so Fio and Ashley were the only ones yucking it up.  Yeah, they laughed and chortled and cackled, mostly about Fiorella running into the police car.  It was horrible that it happened, of course, but what else can one do but make a good story out of it?

Stoned

Fiorella and Husband stopped by the side of the road yesterday and picked up rocks from their dry creek, then deposited them along the north side of the driveway. Your Fio started the--uh--stoning about five years ago, Husband joined her, and Austin Son made a nice contribution. The aim is driveway definition and erosion control, but it's a nice family project too.

Conspiracies and Coincidences

Friend Jeanell's life would be a field day for conspiracy theorists.

 During the same time frame, three women, all with names beginning with J, all romance writers, all members of ARWA, all on the shady side of fifty, had their computers go down. Then there were Jeanell's former neighbors--the husband's given name was the same as Jeanell's younger son's middle name, the neighbor's older son's name was same as Jeanell's older son's name, and the neighbor's younger son's name was the male version of Jeanell's daughter's name. Which all goes to prove that sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence. However, about those three computers....

Sins of the Past

Fio woke up this morning with all her demons dancing in her head. For all her stupidities, she asks your forgiveness. She meant only the best, which sometimes resulted in the worst.

Purple Arm

It's interesting, the contortions that Fio has to go through to sit up in bed now that she's down to one usable arm. And she'll admit she had to call for Husband's help to get her out of the bathtub when her one-arm lift didn't work. And it's hard for Fio to sleep when her arm, now purple from armpit to wrist, is sensitive to bedsheets and pillows. On the other hand, it could have been both arms. *

Another Update

More fun. Husband cured some of Fio's remaining problems, then closed the help desk for the day so Fio had to take her laptop off to Click again. Travis worked on getting my documents back, but is still waiting for a call-back from Just Cloud to get my retrieval system back. Next come Vipre and Kindle. Hoping to get back in the writing saddle again by the weekend.

Fio on the Upswing

We will assume Fio is up and running now.  .Last week was harrowing, and chocolate was the cause of it all.

Husband and Fio had about fifty dollars worth of Easter chocolate in the trunk when she hit the cop car, and she ate a huge chocolate rabbit on Tuesday causing her to stagger into the bathroom for Tums at 4:30 Wednesday morning, which resulted in her tripping over her own feet and skinning her arm on the knobs of a cabinet as she fell, followed by her spilling an icebag destined for her arm all over her computer on Thursday afternoon, which resulted in her computer blowing its brains out.

But the evil rabbit is gone, the car is in the shop, Fio's arm is semi-healing, and all the stuff from her old computer has been transferred into her new computer.  Now if she can just get the new guy to behave--the blog is working, but the email is weird, she has to turn cartwheels to get to Google News, and she's lost some icons.

More updates to come.

Back Again!

Hello, everyone!  Welcome back into the world of Fiorella, who is recovering not only from an auto accident, not only from tripping over her own feet and skinning her left arm on the way down, but also from accidentally showering her laptop with an icebag she was filling to soothe said arm. Then she got sick.

But fear not.  After a bout of deep depression, intrepid Fio is on the upswing. Her baby car lost its front end, but Mazda and Allstate will fix her up; although her arm has swollen and turned purple, nothing is broken; her Toshiba fried, but Click Computer Repair was able to transfer all its contents to Husband's old Dell.  And she herself is on the mend from whatever flu or allergy was driving her crazy.

But please send kind thoughts Fio's way. The girl needs a break.