FYI

No, Fio doesn't play music when she's driving.  It interferes with the scintillating dialogues she's composing in her head.

On the Upswing!

Fiorella had quite an invigorating Facebook conversation yesterday.  In fact, it was a debate which her opposition tried to turn into a brawl. Ross, whom Fio knew from a writing group she once belonged to, had been posting garish anti-Hillary posters accompanied by Trump-type slurs. Fio was planning to unfriend him on the third time around, but decided at the last moment to talk to him, to try to calm him down a little.  But he came out swinging, justifying himself by saying that he and his partner lived in fear that Christian fundamentalists would kill them at their upcoming wedding, that his son was in the hospital because the police had shot him three times, and that he suffered from several debilitating physical conditions.

He also attacked Fio personally. She, of course, had the urge to hurl every epithet back at him and then some, but managed to stay cool.  This man had once been a friend, and she wanted to help him. Not to change his vote--he's an undying Sanders fan--but to soothe his anger. After a couple of back and forths, with him getting angrier and angrier with each exchange, she asked him why, since he didn't like Trump any more than Hillary, he hadn't put up any negative postings about The Donald. Could it be because Trump is male and Hillary is female?  Ross's answer was an explosion of upper-case vituperation, but Fio stayed cool as a cucumber, then played a hunch and asked him if Hillary resembled some woman he had known in his past.

Fio was willing to continue the discussion, but Ross cut off communication. Fiorella is sad, but also more than a little relieved to be out of the hot seat.

Decision Time

Fiorella is two people, emotional and logical.  Her first reaction is emotional, but logic is the road to follow.  Onward, Fiorella--you have no choice  Emotions are ephemeral.  Logic lasts.

But it's a cold, lonely road.

Learning Curve

Guess who went outside yesterday afternoon and cut the limbs off a fallen tree that she and Husband want to turn into firewood?  Guess who learned that, despite what Husband said, it's not too hot for mosquitoes?

High in the Saddle Again

Good MORNING! Fiorella, an emotional bouncy ball lately, feels Tony-the-Tiger G-R-R-R-E-A-T--she had ten hours of uninterrupted sleep last night!

And no wonder she slept well.  She and Husband had had a peaceful, productive day.  They planted caladiums in the urns in front of the house and worked together on sawing up a sheet of plywood that had been lying around forever.  Then, come evening, Fio caught fire and wrote a riveting climactic scene in her latest book.

World, here she comes!

Pill?

Fiorella needs a pill that will keep her happy at all times. It should also provide her with a steady stream of energy, patience, and forbearance. She also wants it to control her tongue and tone her voice. In short, she wants to live in her own peace.

Any suggestions?

Facebook, Trump, Tennessee Reveal

The political season is getting nasty, and Fiorella is doing her best to restrain herself on Facebook, but it gets harder every day. Hillary and Obama are being smeared with hate ads posted by people Fio thought better of. Ignorance is one thing, but malicious meanness is another.
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Trump's characterizations of Hillary are so childish that Fio wants to scream "Nanny-nanny-boo-boo, stick your head in doo-doo!"
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Fio strikes again.  Did you read about the Tennessee guy running on the slogan "Make America White Again?" And do you remember that a while back, Fio said that's what Trump's slogan really meant?


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Husband and Mother

Yes, always-innovative Fiorella has done it again.  To celebrate Husband's birthday, she cut two copies of P-A-R-T-Y out of her remaining stash of gold foil from Russell Stover, taped them to the bottom of the mantel, then taped a BD card between them.

The girl can't help it.  Her mother was like that too, although not as daring as Fio.  Whatever needed to be done, Mother figured out a way to do it, and she had an artistic eye too.  She made most of Fiorella's clothes, and Fio fondly remembers the Christmas dress embroidered around the neck and arms with red and green yarn.

Fio has long suspected that her mother had the same creative gene in her that Fio does, but it got smushed along the way, which made Mother determined that Fio have the opportunities she'd missed. Thus Baylor Children's Theater, oil painting classes, piano lessons--whatever Fio took an interest in.

Bless the memory of Mother.

A Proposal

Fiorella is tired of being just one person.  She would prefer having a clone or two to help her keep up with all her responsibilities and self-assignments.  And the additions would also give her people to talk to who have known her since way back when. Not many of those around anymore.

Golden Greeting

Fiorella is the most creative person on the face of the earth.  Only she would take gold chocolate bar wrappers (which she had hoarded), cut alphabet letters out of them to spell  "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY," then tape the greeting, letter by letter, beneath the fireplace mantel.

Ta-da!

Mrs. Rubright, Remembered Forever

God bless the memory of  Ellet Elementary kindergarten teacher Mrs. Rubright, who could concoct anything out of paper,  Give that woman a pair of scissors and a stapler and she could produce a Halloween pumpkin or scary cat, pilgrim hats and aprons, Christmas decorations, spring flowers, whatever was needed. She was the reason Fiorella asked her startled parents for--and got--a stapler for her sixth birthday.  She's the reason Fiorella has become adept at scissor art--window decor, greeting cards, posters, and, yes, Father's Day decorations:

Musical Decision

After due consideration, Fio and Husband have decided to keep the old piano.  It isn't perfect, but neither are they. And, thanks to Eli Corral's ministrations, no keys are sticking. Also, if Fiorella keeps it turned off, she can play about twenty minutes each day without the crackling starting up.  And twenty minutes is all she needs to keep her fingers nimble.

Revenge of the Cedars

The cedars struck back. Fiorella was out in the south woods, trimming a path down to the meadow, when a cedar branch she was holding for imminent demolition snapped her right eye, which left her vision blurred because she has macular scarring in her her left eye.

Fio was concerned about the possibility of a corneal scratch so Husband drove her to the local emergency room, where her eye was washed out and examined.  No scratch.  No injury. Fio had survived the mighty cedar.

Now to rev up her chain saw, march back out there, and bring that sucker down.

World Constructs

                                    

We are all prisoners of ourselves.  We see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear, and believe what we want to believe.
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Fiorella's FB assailant doesn't know it, but Fio won the contretemps.  A cool head beats out mad-dog anger.
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Actually, Fiorella feels sorry for the guy because he has created is own hell--although she has to admit that she laughed when he compared himself to Anne Frank.
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Incident on Facebook

This is what Fiorella wrote on FB.
Dear Facebook friends: You are entitled to your own opinions, but I prefer reading uplifting messages about people helping each other or cute stories about puppies rather than hate posts about political candidates.

She received thirty-plus "likes' or positive comments and one negative comment, as follows.

For my Facebook friends: It must be nice to live in a puppy and kitten world and complain about posts concerning world events. I on the other hand live in fear. Sean and I are planning our wedding and are afraid to let it be known because it may attract some Georgetown Christian gun owner with a grudge against gays. Unfollow me if I seem too concerned with living in a country run by religious fanatics. I am not going to keep quiet and live concealed in an attic like a little Jewish girl in Nazi Germany. If you stay focused on your romantic fantasies my posts shouldn't concern you.

This is from a person Fiorella has been unfailingly supportive of. To top it off, the next day, he posted a picture of a playful puppy under the heading, "For Fiorella." Does he think Fio doesn't recognize visual sarcasm when she sees it?

It doesn't matter.  He has his problems, which are not Fio's problems, but which, of course, she's speculated about. Figuring people out is one of her hobbies.   

Red Socks in the Morning, Sailors Take Warning

Fiorella is lifting weights now--well, actually, her barbells are tucked away on her bathroom counter, and she's now squeezing a pair of red socks rolled into a ball.  That's what her PCP's PA (got it?) suggested for tennis elbow, and it's working.  Not that the socks have to be red, of course, but Fio decided to use her favorite color so she could keep track of them.  Heave ho, me hearties!

When the Heart Speaks

After a two-month lay-off due to the automobile accident and its aftermath, Fio is almost frightened by how well Phillipa's story is coming together.  Here's a sample:

     He led her off the dirt path and spread the quilt on a spot under a stand of trees, then squatted down and opened the picnic hamper.
     Phillipa's conscience rang loud and clear. She couldn't let him feed her.  It would be better to get everything out in the open before he went any further.  She put a retraining hand on his arm, the first time she'd touched him all day.  "Don't take anything more out of the basket. I've got something to tell you, and if you want to drive off and leave me  to walk back to Kinkaid House, I'll understand."
     His eyebrows went up.  "This sounds serious."
   

Belle of the Ball

Fiorella's sweet blood is irresistible to mosquitoes.  She is roast beef, fried chicken, baby back ribs, and fried shrimp combined into one.  Her legs are especially juicy, and her arms are also in demand, but discriminating diners have also been known to feast on her neck and face.

Try explaining away what looks like a hickey by saying "a mosquito kissed me."

Trump Factoids

The GOP is trying to control Trump's spasmodic outbursts by harnessing him to a teleprompter, which he has long been critical of Hillary for using, but Fio predicts that won't last long.  The Donald's ego will break through.
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Trump is all about appearances. In his mind, no woman is worth holding office unless she's won a beauty pageant.  In fact, Fio suspects he judges all women by that same standard.
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Trump doesn't want a good, solid VP.  He wants a lackey. Maybe that Corey guy would do.

Howard and Heyer

Fiorella has been concentrating so much on her writing lately that she hasn't done much reading, which she decided was as a mistake, so she revisited at couple of her old favorites--Linda Howard and Georgette Heyer.  Linda Howard wrote contemporary and Georgette Heyer wrote historical--in fact, she was the mother of the historical romance genre. But Fio digresses.  What she wants to tell you is that, now that she reads more analytically, she realized how much her own writing style has been influenced by Howard's use of inner dialogue and Heyer's subtle humor.

For a a good read, pick up a copy of these ladies' romances.  They've stood the test of time.

The Piano Man

Fiorella is emotionally eviscerated: the keyboard repairman visited. The piano itself ended up being condemned, but that's beside the point.  Whenever Eli Corral sat down to play, he made Fiorella dance, laugh, or cry. Yes, he was that good. Fio never knew how being in the same room with the artist could make the music more real, could send it straight to her heart, to her soul.

As is her wont, Fio hung over Eli's shoulder the whole time he was in the house and elicited his story. The piano is his life.. His family was musical, and he'd been a child prodigy, but repairing pianos gives him a steady income, keeps him in contact with his passion, and allows him the freedom to play whatever he wants to, whenever he wants to, and wherever he wants to.

Thank you, Eli, for sharing two hours of your life with us. It was like stepping into another universe.

Opportunity

Fiorella has long lamented her lack of opportunity to practice her fast-fading language skills, but today she struck oil. Bangaladesh called.

It rolled right off her tongue, the Russian she'd learned lo these many years ago.  Nothing complicated--"Speak in Russian, please;  I don't understand you; I don't speak English.  Do you speak Russian?"  But before she could start reciting Pushkin, her caller hung up.

Fio hopes she wasn't marked off the list.  She still has bits and pieces of about ten other languages to go.  Immo vero in senatum venit!

Hillary

New Mexico was not only a victory for Hillary. but for women and for the nation.  Too bad Bernie is such a poor loser, but it's hard to step out of the limelight
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Love and Hate

Gramp could be a great guy when he wasn't drinking. Mother said he always cautioned his children against using the word "hate" because it was such a strong word, an admonition which Fiorella took to heart.  Of course, somewhere along the line, Mother also learned that "love" is a weak a word, or, as she told Fio, that one should prove one's love by what one does rather than what one says.

The latter concept, Fiorella totally discarded. She uses the word "love" freely and often

Trump Catch-up

Muhammad Ali--a Muslim, but Donald "loved" him. Celebrities get a free ride.
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Ben Carson is probably toward the top of Trump's vice-presidential list.  He's a celebrity, black, charming, and innocent as the day he was born.
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When Trump said Hillary doesn't "look presidential," that was code for "she's a woman."

Autobiography

Fiorella has written essays, journalism, poetry, short stories, and novels.  What she will never write is an autobiography.  The wounds run too deep.

But enough of that, Fio. The past is past, and the future is yet to come. Put those blinders on, narrow your focus to yourself, and plunge ahead,

Unsympathy

Years ago, when Fiorella was going through a hard patch, she started seeing a psychiatrist.  After a couple of sessions, he said, "You're just trying to make me feel sorry for you."  Fiorella smiled a lot and took care what she said on the next visit, then canceled her weekly appointments

Mercurial with a Purpose

Trump is like a ventriloquist.  He talks out of both sides of his mouth.  As he explained to a talk-show host, when he's trying to strike a deal with someone, when he wants something from people, he acts like they're his best friends. That must be the reason for his recent turn-around regarding the Latina governor of New Mexico.  After savaging her, he's suddenly reversed course and is saying he loves her, and that she's doing a great job. Translation: he wants her to kowtow, just like Paul Ryan and the other Republicans have.  Apparently he thinks that sweet-talk technique will also work with Putin, the Chinese, and Kim Jon Ugly.

The Arabs, though, he wants to bomb off the face of the earth--and possibly the Hispanics, if they don't stay on their side of the border.

At least, that's what he's saying today.

No Show

She'd like for us to get together
But Fiorella's under the weather.

Freudian Review

Fiorella started this blog with the idea of using it to entertain and inspire.  Instead, it's become her personal diary.  Welcome to Fio's id.