Fio and Daughter have been gliding aorund half the aftermoon, and are finally settled, ready for bed. Lift off is about 7:30 tomorrow morning. In the meantime enjoy relics of Fiorella's past:
When Daughter was born and Fiorella gazed on her milky-white redheaded complexion, she realized that the first word she would have to teach her was sunscreen. At some point those head-to-toe coverings worn by conservative Muslim women began to look practical.
Fio remembers that when her family drove home from visiting relatives Up North, the temperature notched up with every state until we pulled into our own driveway at a bacling 103 degrees. Four nights previously, we had attended a highs chool football game and wrapped ourselves in blankets to ward off the chill.
Another vacation was spent at Disney World. Fio could cope with Florida's soaring temps, but went into shock when she saw the amount of water lying around in ponds, puddles, and ditches. Like a character out of Dune, her first instinct was to make arrangements for its conservation.