Six silver cars in a row preceded Fiorella down the road as she drove to her doctor's office for her bi-annual check-up. An indication of good luck? Fio thinks so--she sailed through her exam. On the other hand, the silver parade might have been because most cars on the road seem to be silver nowadays. And there you have it--Fio's sense of whimsy vs. her practicality, imagination vs. cold, hard facts. Yes. that's how your girl bumps along.
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DANGER, DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. Do not let Donald Trump grab the microphone at George Bush's funeral because all he'll talk about is himself. PS: Did you get a load of the eloquent letter from Trump to the Bushes? Really nice--wonder who wrote it?
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This blog has been running for ten years now and sometimes Fio's at a loss for a topic. Then disaster strikes and she has far too much to say. Translation: more plumbing problem$ and wishing this blog made money. Oh well, it pays its own way. Fio would go stark, raving crazy without an outlet.
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The mailbox decoration is up, the Christmas doormat is in place, and Fio's working on the big sign, the one that will probably get stolen.
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Question: Why do you decorate so much, Fiorella? Your mother always had inside decorations--snowmen candles and the like--and your father would hand a string of outdoor lights, but you go over the top.
Answer: Because I enjoy it. That's the long and the short of it. WHOOPEE!
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