Sunday, September 22, 2019

Quickies Plus

I've places to go and promises to keep
So thank you, God, for a good night's sleep
Fio is small, but her voice is strong
Which you'll find out if you do her wrong
 Strong or not, there's nothing Fiorella can do about one of Husband's investments that she laid claim to several months ago.  She filled out the benefit form as directed, but it was rejected three times. This last time, Fio got on the phone and made the investment employee walk her through every complicated page, then signed the document and took it to the bank the next day to be notarized. Unfortunately, when the notary signed it and dated it, his date did not agree with Fio's, which is a no-no. Thank goodness that in the next round Fio has only has one page to correct. (Do you think she should sue for postage?)
Fiorella, who is on an extensive pill regimen, thinks it's hilarious that she reminds herself of which one to swallow when with such rhymes as  as "Wait till eight, but don't be late."
Yours truly promised a sick friend that she would march in a local political parade, but Friend didn't tell her she'd have to stand out in the sun for an hour first for a pep rally. Needless to say, Fio left before the march began--but not without passing out ten of her Dump Trump buttons.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

From Thrill to Pill

Fiorella, the woman of many moods, is thrilled right now. She just got back from a trip to Walgreen's for her yearly flu shot, and two women who were waiting in line--actually we were all in chairs along the wall--noticed her DUMP TRUMP button and gave her a thumbs up. Fio immediately flourished her plastic bags full buttons, and they each took a button and seemed very excited about them. The tide is turning.
Speaking of politics, Fio has committed to walking in the Georgetown march at noon today, but her attendance depends on when her maid shows up at the house. Raquel is perfectly capable of handling everything herself, but Fiorella doesn't want to miss the chance of enlisting her to haul several ten-foot-long slats to the house in the back of her pick-up. Yep, Fio needs them to to edge the new pathway. There will probably be some fencing that needs transport too.
The down spot of Fio's day was when she answered a phone call from the in-between-company that Austin Heartless hired because they thought that mechanizing and technologizing would increase its profit. The recorded voice asked questions that Fiorella answered appropriately until the voice asked when she was going to have her next finger prick, and Fio said not till next month. Your faithful correspondent was immediately forwarded to a human being with a very nice telephone voice who questioned her further and didn't like her answers, especially when she said she has a friend who punctures her finger for her instead of doing it herself.
The IRS thing seems to be drawing to a close, but how many times have you heard Fiorella say that?
Fio's stomach is giving her problemas denuevo. She's hoping it's because of her distress about the taxes and that by October 15, the late-return deadline, she'll be able to gorge herself on Russell Stover's chocolate-covered marshmallow Halloween treats with no aftereffects.
      Or that there will be a morning-after pill available.

Friday, September 20, 2019

From Oops to Hopes

How did Fiorella get printed as fellatio on Fio's blog yesterday? Was it the weather? Mischievious gremlins? Did Sonia Dog accidentally step on some hokey keys before Mommy packed up the computer for the night? Whatever, it was good for a laugh--and thanks to friend Marion for alerting Fio via Daughter.
All in all, Fio's day went well today. It's amazing how much energy one has after a full night's sleep. First off, your faithful correspondent went outside to look at the flagstone walkway forming along the side of the house and, amazed to realize it was almost finished, decided to stay out and complete the job. Next, after taking a picture of her accomplishment, she had a one-hour chat with friend Suzy in England. A walkway and a talkway--can't get much more reviving than that combination!😁
But Fiorella had more to do today than finish the pathway. She also needed to get the trash out, pack the trunk of the Mercedes with cardboard and paper for recycling, drop by Husband's doctor's office (for the second time) for a list of Husband's referrals to specialists, etc., and mail some letters at the post office. Sonia Dog was in the back seat, of course, because it was Dairy Queen day, and she does love her Puppy Cup. Mommy always gets a dipped cone (chocolate) so Sonia doesn't have to eat alone--that's Mamacita's excuse and she's sticking to it. 😁
A blanket of blue-gray was creeping across the sky as Fio turned toward home, and as she approached the turn into her neighborhood, there was a rumble overhead and about a dozen miniscule raindrops fell on her windshield. Fiorella's first urge was to roll down her window, stick her head out, and yell "rain, rain!"
       But then it stopped. πŸ˜’

It's eventide now and Fiorella is making su lista para manana, which, surprisingly, doesn't look as intimidating as su listas usually do. Maybe there will even be some time left over for her to work in a little language study or get some writing done. Hoping, hoping....

Thursday, September 19, 2019

Almost, Almost

FIORELLA has almost finished off the flagstone path across the side of the house, with no calamities so far. She plans to finish it off today before her yard man comes over this weekend and catches her hauling heavy rocks around.  Let's hope he won't realize she's reassembled the flagstones to her own liking.
She's also almost finished with the taxes, which she meant to work on yesterday, but didn't. She also didn't finish up those DUMP TRUMP buttons she is manufacturing on the kitchen table. (They're destined for the local Democratic Committee or whoever wants one. )
Also, Fio's writing is on hold, although she's come up with another good story line.
Also, Fiorella didn't get to AT&T yesterday like she had planned, but it's on the top of her list for today. She's also going to drop by Walker Plumbing because the toilets are still taking to long to stop flushing. Maybe she can make a video of the situation.
 Use your time well, Fiorella. Every minutes that passes is one less minute you have to live.

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Day in Review

It's six o'clock and all's not well--
My plans for the day are shot to hell

Yep, Fio's lost the bright blue folder that contained all her voter registration material.
Fiorella likes to stay busy, as she has often said, but she'd rather be doing what she wants to do rather than what she has to do. Hope is rising, though--she's nearly finished with the 2018 taxes now except for the final accounting and paying the (gulp) bill.
       She also has to pay for the new plumbing system and expects to rack up a whopping big charge when her land-line phones are repaired or replaced:
      Telephones, taxes, toilets
       I'm besieged at every turn
      So is it any wonder that
       I burn, I burn, I burn?
Happy days are here again! Fiorella finished off the income taxes this afternoon--well, except for the medical stuff she forgot about, which she'll do tomorrow. At any rate, everything should be in by October 15.
Did Fio tell you that the next thing she's planning to tackle is her in-and-out land-lines? She's got AT&T's local address and is planning to beard them in their den tomorrow.  It really would be nice to have a phone conversation that isn't cut off in mid-sentence.
More and more, Fiorella is thinking of stories she'd like to write and get out there Having a fair number of friends and followers on Facebook should help her, and she'll consult other writer friends for more marketing ideas. It's odd, but Fiorella, who's not shy in other situations, has a hard time tooting her own own horn. She just wasn't brought up that way.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

From Flagstones to the Future

Your Fiorella has been having a great time rearranging the flagstones that friend Frenando y su sobrino laid out rather haphazardly, which is what you would expect from two guys who had been handed the job with no instructions except where the pathway should start and end.  Fio studied the design from inside the house for a couple of days, then went outside and started relaying the stones in a loose jig-saw style. She's quite pleased so far, although she may have to lug home a few more flagstones to satisfy her artistic sensibilities.
Last year a pipe broke in the ceiling, and now there's a problem with the water pressure thing that's maing the toilets sing and dance. In addition, Fiorella's land-line phones don't seem to be accepting any calls unless they're from telemarketers. GRRRRRRRRRR!
Don't hold your breath, but Fio is getting closer to the finish line regarding her 2018 taxes. The cloth on top of the dining room table is three quarters visible again, which means that Fiorella may soon be free to investigate what she can of the Rusyn language, put together her maternal genealogy,  compose a few more acrostics, and finish off Lolly's story, which has been in waiting for about five years.
       Unfortunately, it's more likely she'll be spending all her time organizing the remains of her life  and fixing up the house for sale inside and out.
       On the other hand, Fiorella did not eat a single piece of chocolate today--WAHOO!

Monday, September 16, 2019

From Complaint to Analysis

Fiorella wrote two charming paragraphs for your education and enjoyment, and then, when she was starting on the third, accidentally deleted her every golden word. She will try to reconstruct them, but with fear in her heart--HOW THE HELL DID THE DAMN MACHINE DELETE ITSELF?
Otherwise, Fio's life seems to be evening out denuevo, aside from an occasional mad dash to the post office, kahneshnuh. She's been spending about an hour a day outside rearranging the flagstones in the walkway that su amigo Fernando y su sobrino built for her on the side of the la casa. Las piedras are heavy, but she totters the ones she can't lift --the same way those statues were moved down the road on Easter Island.
As you may have noticed, Fiorella's brain seems to be recovering from the shock wave that accompanied Husband's death. She's even playing with languages denuevo, amusing herself by stringing together several of them into what are (to her) hilarious sentences, like Guten Morgen, mio amigo or Gde est meine computadora.
That paternal family reunion that Fiorella attended has reawakened her interest in the genealogy of her mother's side of the family. She has an old photo of the a gathering of the clan and knows her last remaining first cousin on that side of the family has gathered some material so she's wondering if one of her second cousins, to whom she sends Christmas card but really doesn't know, would be willing to cooperate on the venture. Will keep you posted.
Looking back on last year when she and Former Friend were semi-friends, Fiorella wonders if FF is incapable of lasting friendships, probably due to her rough upbringing, details of which she divulged to Fio. In that regard, it's especially interesting that even her relationships with her animals--the horses, the dogs--were dominance based. Unfortunately, Fio is uncontrollable.

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Fio Battles the Brave New World Again and WINS!

Fiorella does not like to be stymied, but technology thwarts her at every turn, which is why she was the wild woman you saw pulling into the post office parking lot on Saturday and running into the the building with an un-stamped -sized envelope in her hand, only to discover that the counter area was closed for the day.  Yes, there was a stamp machine in the lobby, but Fio knew from past encounters that it was not her friend, and she was furious. That envelope contained several days and late-night work on her tax information that she needed to send off to her CPA ASAP.

Frustrated, her blood boiling, your Fio let loose a vibrant scream in the hallowed post office wall, then howled a few more times as she ran for her faithful little blue car, envelope still in hand, then took off down the street, beeping along the way to let off steam, to H-E-B where she knew she could buy stamps and hoped the nice lady behind the counter could guess how many she needed. The nice lady had no idea of how many stamps Fio needed, but she had a suggestion--go to the UPS down the street, but hurry because it would close in fifteen minutes.

Fio sprinted for her car (which she isn't supposed to do because of the hip replacement, but has done a couple of times in emergency situations with no negative outcomes) and made it to the store just before it closed, paid her $8.55 (which she'll damn well take off of next year's taxes) and sent the envelope on its way.

Elated, she drove back to H-E-B to thank the nice lady and pick up a small chocolate cake iced in chocolate, then ate it all the way home to refresh her depleted adrenaline.


Saturday, September 14, 2019

Life and Taxes

JINGOISTIC is the word Fio has been searching for. She remembers her mother using it to describe a super-nationalism movement that she considered to be ignorant and offensive. Fiorella heard the word again during a UT history class, but she never realized she'd be in the trenches fighting against another such movement further on down the road.
As a child, your Fio was great at reading maps. She had to be--remember that her mother didn't drive so her father had to be at the wheel the whole way up and down from Texas to Ohio, often a four-day trip. Unfortunately, mother never got the hang of road maps either, so the chore was passed on to yours truly. Fiorella understood from the first that a map was an aerial view of the road system and took it from there. But alas, she's now in the same boat that her mother because paper maps are relics of the past, and Fio is notoriously inept with technology. Translation--cell phone maps and their squeaky voices confuse your girl.
Congratulate Fiorella. She's finally pulled together all the TRS, ERS, and SS stuff, and has phone calls out to Husband's doctors for a list of their so referrals so she can figure out the mileage and thus reduce her taxes. She'd like to tell you that will finish her off for IRS, but noooooooo--still plenty to do.

Friday, September 13, 2019

Life on the Run

Between struggling with her 2018 taxes and problems with her PC, Fio had a pretty rotten day yesterday. But things got better when she decided to taken Sonia Dog out in the early evening, which was warm, but not too warm, and bright, but not too bright. Doggie wandered around in the woods, and Fiorella readjusted a few flagstones in the new walk beside the side of the house. Nothing like hefting rocks to make a girl feel in charge of her situation again.
Today will start off with a visit from friend Marie, who used to be Fiorella's cumadin nurse and is now a big dog RN. Fio and Marie are kindred spirits, and she is an especially kind one--so kind that she is going to drive out to Fiorella's house to help her with the dreaded finger-prick machine that Austin Heartless has bestowed upon her because it's too cheap to pay for cumadin nurses on site. Not that Fio has any problem with her finger being pricked to test the efficacy of her blood-thinner prescription, but she was born with some kind of in-built, iron-strong resistance to damaging herself, sort of a do-no-harm gene. Yes, your Fio could never have been one of those teen-age self-mutilators.
       On the other hand, Fiorella is quite calm in medical emergencies and does a great job of binding wounds and driving people to the ER, even herself.
In preparation for Marie's visit, Fio has run around the house like a mad woman, trying to get it in half-decent shape, which is hard with tax-related papers spread out all over the place. Hopefully, Marie will ignore the mess and focus on Fio's sparkling personality 😁
Have you actually gotten anything done on those on those 2018 returns, you ask? Well, yes, but it's slow-going. Anything I think can be handled quickly takes forever, and everything I think will take forever does take forever. And, by the way, Chase, squirrelly as always, sent Fio a "years' end" accounting of her 2019 credit card expenditures instead of her 2018 ones.
Now, if you'll excuse her, Fiorella needs to go read the comic strips before Marie gets here. A day without the funnies is a day without sunshine 🌞

Thursday, September 12, 2019

It's All About the Line

The joy of life-drawing for Fio is the line, and this sketch s one of her favorites. It's so simple, a one-line drawing with no shading, just that graceful curve of the model's body. We don't even see her face, which is unusual for Fiorella, who's basically a portrait artist.  (The perspective is also unusual because Fio, for once, snagged an up-close chair.)

Fio would like to tell you that she set up the pose, but that isn't how it works in a life-drawing situation.  There's always someone who's been designated to take charge, and he/she is the only one who communicates with the model. He/she also times the poses and is the one who suggests poses if the model doesn't have his/her own preferences--and some of them can be lulus.

If you're wondering, in Fiorella's experience, models were always treated with respect. They were regarded as professionals doing their job, and there was no shaming or chit-chat.

Anyway, enough of that--now for the drawing:

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Fio Makes Up for Her Lack of Technology

Fiorella is trying to post another one of her other nude studies, but, struggling with her lack of technological skills, may not get it up on line till later today. Meanwhile, have a good day 🧑
The above was written in late morning. The rest of Fio's time was spent in Austin, where she got her hair done for the first time in almost a year. She didn't arrive home till five-thirty, and a very large dog who was insistent that SHE CAME FIRST on everything. Thus, the nude is going to have to wait till tomorrow.
You may be wondering where nude models come from. Well, some are college students who need extra money, some are pros who see it as an easy way to make a buck, and a few, from what Fio could tell, were exibitionists. Interestingly enough, there was an unwritten rule that we would never try to engage them in conversation. They were models, not friends.
Well, Fio, how did your hair appointment go, you ask. It was wonderful. There is nothing like catching your stylist up on your own life and in return, hearing about hers. Fiorella even showed friend Deborah the Family Book,  explained the family origins, and told her about the family reunion.
Now to read the newspaper. Yes, Fiorella. who begins every day reading the paper, did not have that luxury this morning. Instead, she was outside monitoring the crew that was trimming or removing whatever trees of hers that were in the County right-of-way. Strangely, while only about eight trees were slaughtered, Fio counted at least ten guys in hard hats--she suspects that the extras were there to hold her off if she tried a "Woodsman, spare that tree" on them.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019


It started out as such a nice, well-planned day--calls to The Employee Retirement System and Ameritrade in the morning for needed IRS information, an early afternoon appointment at the bank to consider refinancing, then a trip to the post office, then a late-afternoon appointment  with the plumber because Fio's house seemed to have diarrhea--her toilets were over-flushing and her faucets were leaking. Then the roof fell in on her head--figuratively.
        The basic problem was the extras she was trying to slip in between appointments--a call to UT's East Slavic Studies office, the Texas Employee Retirement System, and Ameritrade, a long phone call from a friend in Virginia. Then there was the notification that she had screwed up her blood test, the connection to her computer mysteriously failing her, and, to top everything off, her dog scattering her carefully stacked notes onto the floor with her magnificent tail.
       Has Fiorella ever told you how much she dislikes not being in control of her life?
Fio is trying to train herself to use her ever-diminishing foreign language skills more: "Gdyeh ist mi libreta ?"πŸ˜‰
Fiorella was twenty-nine when she became a mother, way out of step with the times. Now, late parenthood is the name of the game. IT'S NOT TOO LATE--HINT, HINT!

Monday, September 9, 2019

From A to Thinking

AAAACK! Fio spent five hours on the 2018 taxes yesterday, and they're still nowhere near being finished. Pray for her--she's going to call Ameritrade to get tax information today, and you know how much they love her in those unholy halls.
The good news about the tax prep thing is that Fiorella has discovered she made $28.37 off her books  last year, which is amazing for someone who's been out of the scene for three years. Maybe some of those pitches she's delivered in doctors' waiting-rooms when she couldn't sit still any longer did the trick.
Your girl had another ocular migraine yesterday. The first time her vision years ago that her vision exploded into a rainbow of shocking beauty, Fio, who is legally blind in her left eye, was afraid it was the end of the road, but now she knows that that her own private Disneyland will settle down in about twenty minutes. Dilating her eyes causes the same colorful reaction, but the rainbows don't go away for days.
Fio decided that she and Sonia Dog need more exercise so she's been grabbing her pruners and escorting Doggie outside for the past few days. While Fiorella clips away at stray cedar/juniper branches, Sonia lies down on the front porch and snoozes.
Women make breakfast, read the paper, and plan what they're going to do during the day all at the same time. Men eat breakfast, then read the paper, then decide what they're going to do during the day. It's a matter of vertical thinking versus serial thinking.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

Chocolate, Armadillo, Ameritrade, Admission, Viewpoint

After a frustrating battle with her 2018 tax returns, Fiorella drove to town and, for solace, bought herself four chocolate Halloween treats, two Dove bars, and a can of chocolate fudge frosting  As soon as she got home, she ate the treats and Dove bar, despite knowing that she would pay the GERD piper at bedtime, but--SURPRISE--she slept like a baby all night.
       Has your Fio stumbled on a cure?
       More important, does this mean that she can eat the entire can of chocolate fudge frosting tomorrow without suffering any consequences?
There's an armadillo--or two--rooting around in Fio's yard right now, and it won't come near the trap. Maybe she'd better revisit last year's vision of an armadillo fence with underground spikes.
Pray for your faithful correspondent. She's going to have to contact Ameritrade to get relevant information for her 2018 taxes, and her last confrontation with those people bordered on lethal.

Fiorella never closes doors, but sometimes she packs away the welcome mat.
Fiorella thinks a person's sex life is his own business unless it involves force, children, or animals.

Saturday, September 7, 2019

Weather, Chocolate, Taxes, Sharpie, Acrostic

One hundred degrees, hot and still--
If the temp doesn't get you, the sunburn willπŸ˜‰
Yes, Fiorella went on a chocolate binge yesterday, even though she knew she was going to pay for it all night. But what the heck--she  finished off claiming the last of Husband's investment stuff (after two tries), but she still has the IRS, that great hungry maw, to goπŸ˜”
When it comes to taxes, Fio is so much of a scaredy cat that she saves everything--then can't find anything πŸ˜•
The Sharpie attack is gaining  steam, and Fiorella loves each silly line of it. She even suggested a cartoon relating the Sharpie scandal to her daily post about The Children.  (Wondering if Sharpie could sue you-know-who for misuse of its product?)πŸ˜„
Fio already has written down the basics of the acrostic that she is making for her mother's side of the family. It pulled into shape within an hour, which surprised her, but practice makes perfect--she sharpened her claws on the two acrostics for her father's side of the family, and has been solving the newspaper anagrams for years πŸ˜‹

Friday, September 6, 2019

Image, Acrostic, MS, Cumadin, Doggie

Too many people, Fio thinks, pay more attention to the image a politician projects than what he/she says or does
Hooray! Fiorella finally reached cousin Sydney and got the maternal family names she needed to make another acrostic. They are challenging and a lot of fun, which Fio needs at this time while she's working on the income tax, winding up one of Husband's investments, keeping a close watch on the County's shenanigans, trying to get the house ready for sale, jotting down notes for future books, and fighting the good fight
Maybe one reason Fio is so driven is that, about thirty years ago, she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Because she was told that her health would get worse and worse, she decided to push herself to make the best use of her talents and skills for as long as possible. Four years later, SURPRISE--a brain scan showed no signs of MS. It might have been a misdiagnosis, but Fiorella prefers to think her mind-over-matter determination was what cured her.
A charming young woman drove over and supposedly taught Fiorella how to use the cumadin monitor thing. Fio enjoyed Jennifer's visit and said, "Yes, yes" to everything as if she had an eidetic memory, then made a mental note to contact friend Marie, a former cumadin nurse, who has kindly volunteered to help her.
If she could, Sonia Dog would lick yours truly, not just on her elbow,  but all over. Yes, Fio is the puppy Doggie never had 🧑

Thursday, September 5, 2019

College Adventure

Fiorella decided to drop by The University of Texas while she was in Austin to do a little detective work regarding her heritage. It wouldn't take long, she reasoned, and the campus shouldn't have changed too much since she graduated, lo, these many years ago.
     It took Fio about thirty minutes of driving around to find a parking space and another thirty minutes to find anyone who knew anything about how to reach the Russian Department (which is now called Eastern Slavic Studies, in case you ever need to seek it out) and the whole time, your girl was sweltering in the muggy heat and feeling terribly out of place among the horde of fresh-faced students crowding the sidewalks.
     Finally reaching the campus itself, she took a chance on the first building she came to, went down the empty hall and knocked on a door--okay, she pushed it open and barged right in--and encountered two young Chinese women who not only supplied her with the needed phone number, but were amazed at her greeting them (nee hau ma) and thanking them (sheh-sheh) in their native tongue, the only phrases she remembers from her dentist's long-ago tutelage.
    Afterwards, Fio walked as fast as she could back to her car, hoping she could get over the Central Market before friend Kaye, whom she was supposed to meet, gave up on her. But such was not to be: forty-five minutes late,  Fio huffed and puffed into the eating area of Central Market, but Kaye had long since departed.
      Fiorella has emailed her friend, begging for forgiveness and another chance, but that will be up to Kaye. Fio will understand if she gets dropped cold. Being stood up is not fun.

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Random Thoughts

There are too many people in this world who want to be told what to think, do, and say.  Fio isn't one of them.
Have you ever thought that when your body dies, maybe your subconscious creates an eternal world in which you're still alive and carrying on as usual?
Sometimes Fio smiles, sometimes she cries,
Sometime she's stupid, sometimes she's wise,
And sometimes she catches herself by surprise--
But, whatever she is, she never lies
Sometimes I lead
Sometimes I walk alone
But my decisions
Are my own
Have you ever tried writing a post with a loving mastiff  industriously licking your right elbow?

Tuesday, September 3, 2019

Post Labor Day

Fio seems to go up and down--up and filled with hope, down with gloom. She couldn't get hold of anyone she was trying to reach yesterday, couldn't get Doggie to take her worm pills, couldn't overcome problems with the password thing  and something about the latest Google apps, and couldn't figure out how to handle Carbonite, her back-up, being "out of date." Totally overwhelmed by it all, she started sniffling, then crying, which, of course, signaled sweet Sonia to her side, in her lap, and all over her face.
       Later in the afternoon, friend Ellen called from California, and she and Fio stayed on the phone for about an hour, with yours truly monopolizing the conversation. It was so wonderful to have another human being to talk to, someone who's known her since childhood, someone who's on her side.
       What Fiorella would really like to do is dump all her tax stuff in the lap of an understanding CPA and be done with it. Fio does have a very nice CPA, but she hasn't located everything that needs to be dumped in his lap yet because back in the spring, she and the kids tore the place apart looking for insurance and investment policies. Ah well, this too shall pass.
       One nice thing that happened was that a friend labeled Fiorella a "prize-winning author" on an Amazon review, which Fiorella had actually forgotten she once was. Yep, she won eleven and placed in a batch more. She still has three finished romances in her closet and several paritals, Snap to it, Fio! Get yourself out there on the marketplace!

Monday, September 2, 2019

Good Signs for the Future!

(1) Fio is muttering Spanish words and phrases under her breath again.

(2) She's made an appointment to have her hair done and is considering some kind of facial.

(3) She finally has a solution for the rework of the front garden--WOOD CHIPS, like en El Parke on the other side de la entrada.

(4) Her cute little $7 popcorn popper is popping again, and Fio had a bowlful of home-cooked popcorn last night--yum!

(5) It rained yesterday afternoon! Real live rain!

Sunday, September 1, 2019

Take It Or Leave It

Photos have replaced paintings,  typing has replaced hand-writing, and machines have replaced people at the supermarket check-outs, post offices, and gas stations, none of which Fiorella likes. Yep, you've got a full-fledged Luddite on your hands--although that she will admit that some of the above comes in handy from time to time. But replacing her nice, friendly coumadin clinic nurse with a cold-blooded machanism that reports into machine central is going beyond the Pale. 
Ah well, Fio can always get a moment or two of human conversation from telemarketers before they hang up on her.
A place for everything and everything in its place, Mother would say, and Fiorella tries to adhere to her dictum, but she also wants to be able to find things quickly without wasting time, which means that putting things "in their place" is, for Fio, like trying to roll a tsunami back out to  the sea.again. Everything returns.
It's September now, and the hay wagons are wobbling down the  highway in Fio's neck of the woods. The hay isn't packaged like those box-like bails of yore, but rolled into bundles, six by six or more. (Oops, unintentional rhyme, but once it started, your girl couldn't stop.)
Fiorella has started scouting advertising circulars for pictures of guys she might use in a story that's been forming in her mind for a while. She's also ripping pages out of the Lands End catalogues addressed to Husband to catch up on men's clothing styles. Junk mail is a boon to romance writers.
When you slap a mosquito that's poised on your hand and your own blood squishes back at you....

Saturday, August 31, 2019

From Frustration to Relaxation

Frustration Station 1, 2, 3. Fio can't get through the computer rigamarole to review the new book a friend of hers has put up on Amazon. Also, after several hours of searching, she found a 2016 format for the information she usually sends off to her CPA, but she's going to have to go through another corridor of hell to get 2018 information on Husband's investments and retirement income. To top it off, that investment set-up that called Fio last week has mailed her a letter asking her to fill out new forms, but didn't include them in the envelope.
Let's relax and talk about art nudes, the ones that Fiorella, primarily a portrait artist, used to sketch in that city-sponsored class she dropped in on regularly for about a year. What, you say--NAKED PEOPLE? But, strangely enough, artists don't look at boobs and bottoms, but lines and curves, balance and grace. In class, we usually smudged over the nipples and crotches, but went to town on the shoulders, elbows, hands, thighs, knees, bend of the body, and, most important, the angle--which is why it was important to get a good seat up front.  
       To make things more interesting, our models came in all shapes, sexes, and sizes. One of Fio's favorite drawings was of an obese woman lolling in a wicker arm chair:

Friday, August 30, 2019

Hard-Hitting Poetry

What must it be like
To stand there all day
Not even allowed
The freedom  to play?
The Children sicken.
The Children die--
While heartless Donald
Is still eating pie
America, bow your heads in shame
Ethnic cleansing is the name of the game--

     Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown
     Run gays and their kindred out of town
     Ridicule the halt, the blind, the lame
     And do unto those who sorrow the same
     Jail the actors, the artists, the press
     Silence the women and make them a jest
     Reject the migrants or throw them in jail
     Allow graft and cronyism to prevail

In short, go after anyone who
Doesn't talk or think or look like you--
An automaton of self-fed hate
Which no force on earth can eradicate

In short, go after anyone who
Doesn't look or think or talk like you
Until there's no one left but you

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Getting Personal with Fiorella

PSSST! Friend Paula tipped Fio off that Russell Stover's headquarters are in Colorado, north of Durango. If you're planning a raid, please count yours truly in.
Fiorella and Sonia Dog have an ideal relationship, at least from Doggy's viewpoint. When she barks, Fio supplies whatever is wanted, be it food, water,  access to outside or first-thing-in-the-morning ear rubs. In return, Sonia allows herself to be cuddled.
Fiorella, whose hair looks like she's been dragged through a sewer, finally got hold of her stylist and made an appointment. But, Fio, why did you wait so long, you ask. Well, because my hair seemed to be doing okay until suddenly, one morning, it wasn't.πŸ˜’
Give Fio an award. She didn't buy anything at H-E-B that wasn't on her grocery list. That means NO CHOCOLATE--although, on the way home, she did gaze longingly at Walgreens, her local supplier of Russell Stover.
Obnoxious as always, Fiorella greeted the Vietnamese guy behind the post office counter with a friendly chao! He went blank, then corrected her pronunciation. Yes, your Fio has no boundaries when it comes to languages

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Back to High School Again

The editor of Fiorella's high school class's monthly newsletter, tired of posting nothing but obits, has asked alums to contribute information about what we are now doing during our lives or have done. Fio has complied, but carefully. Your faithful correspondent wasn't Miss Popularity back then, and there's contingent of high school FB "friends" she's tangled with politically who hate her guts.
      Why can't they be civilized? Fio has other friends--REAL friends--who disagree with her take on the state of the nation, but she can talk politics with them them without being called names.
One thing Fiorella would never reveal to her former classmates is that she writes a daily blog that has a large following (on and off) across the globe. Not only would it would rip away her protective anonymity, but she'd be ostracized at reunions even more than she was in high school.
       Actually, the ostracization was good for Fio's adult development. Self-reliance became the name of her game, and she's played it relatively well.
On the other hand, because she is a little wicked, Fio might start dumping her accomplishments on her former schoolmates like hailstones. They already know--and are shocked or don't care--about her two published romances, but, as you know, Fiorella's got loads of other books, short stories, poems, and the like stored up to set loose upon the universe. She might even tell  she is half Carpathian Rusyn, the tribe that Dracula came from. Or that she has a book full of nudes she sketched in a Life Drawing class. Or that she sleeps on the couch with her dog every night.
       Not that she would say any of the above. They would just look at her with the same owl eyes they did in high school.

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

From Maid to Music

The road over the bridge over the "River Why" is finished, and Fiorella's maid was the first person to drive over it when she came up from Austin to perform her twice-a-month wonders. But, Fio, you say--what do you need a maid for when you're the only one in the house now? Because I can't do everything myself, and the prospect of another woman looking at my messes is enough to make me clean up what I can on my own.
When it comes Sonia's birthday in October, please remind Fiorella to give baby dog a mattress of her own. She's been crowding yours truly off the couch lately
Strangely, Fio does the opposite of what the weather men/women suggest when it comes to to indoor temps: she turns AC on at night and turns it off during the day, which works for her because (1) she likes to sleep cold, and (2),her house is so well insulated that she and Sonia Dog are quite comfortable during the day.
Always the dainty lady, Sonia is now insisting Fiorella give the toilet a second flush before she drinks from it.
Fio started this blog as a cute little fluff piece, but now she spills her guts into it. In fact, with everything that has happened to her, it's doubtful she could have survived without it. Strum, strum--"Thank you for being my friend...."

Monday, August 26, 2019

From Top to Bottom

Sometimes Fiorella thinks it would be nice to hear comments, commendations, or suggestions from her readers, but she knows the arrangement wouldn't work in the long run. As it is now, Fio can say exactly what she wants to and needs to because she's anonymous.
Congratulate your faithful correspondent--she just finished off a five-generation acrostic chart. Not only did she find ways to hook all the names together, but she labeled the arms of the family red, purple, pink, dark blue, light blue, and black. Now she's thinking of composing a genealogy chart, but not for a while yet--and to tell the truth, she'd be relieved if someone else in her extended family decided to take that one on.
Also congratulate Fio because she remembered, word for word, that Ivanka Trump poem she wrote about a week ago for your enjoyment and posted it on FB. Wow, Fiorella--maybe you're not losing it after all!
Unhappy with the  iron plants along the front of the house, Fiorella is soon going to be scouting the local nurseries for bushes that can flourish in alkali soil.  They also have to be able to ward off hungry deer. And not need much water.
The road is open over the new bridge now, but there's still a mess down in the valley. If it isn't cleaned up, Fio will have to put on her spurs, mount her white horse and go after the County again. This is getting tiresome.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

From Genealogy to Genes

Fiorella got a kick out of making an acrostic out of the names of her paternal cousins and their children, but adding in the grandchildren's names may not work out because there are so many of them. Besides, it's a little depressing. Your faithful correspondent wanted four children, but only had three because she started late and then had to have a lady operation that totally devastated her insides.
But surely, she reasoned, her three wonderful kids would marry and have wonderful grandchildren and she would spend her elder years surrounded by the genes of her genes, who would also reproduce and thus carry elements of her on forever.
       But such was not to be. Fiorella, the oldest of her cousins, has only one grandchild, a darling little girl whom she barely knows because of distance. Now, Fio is very grateful for this child, and hopes her parents will have more children later (four?), but she also wishes her other two offspring would reproduce. IT'S NOT TOO LATE!
Meanwhile, Fio is working on emptying out the house and, at the same time patrolling the property to make sure the County isn't messing with her land again. Another sadness--when she and Husband purchased the land and built the house, lo, these many years ago, she pictured her grands playing in what her yard man calls "El Parke," the cleared area in front of the house, and then running off into the woods to explore the wilderness. As a child, she would have loved having grandparents with a home in the middle of a forest.
       But now Husband is gone, Fio is pulling up stakes, and this haven will fade into the line-up of the other places she has lived: Stetler Ave, Proctor Ave, the duplex on E 31st when she and Husband were newly-weds, Parkwood Ave, North Oaks, Parkfield Dr......
Do you ever wonder what Fiorella's day is like? Well, just now, when she was writing this blog, the telephone rang and Fio was told that she had not correctly filled out the one last form from Husband's estate: she'd messed up his birth date, hadn't checked off her citizenship status, and hadn't gotten the request notarized. With the phone in hand, she started running around the house, trying to find the documentation she needed when she suddenly heard suspicious sounds from down on the road, where the County was working, so, the whole time talking to her unwelcome caller, she carried the phone up out onto the drive to check things out. All seemed well so she headed back down to the house again, at the same time making arrangements over the phone to have a questionnaire sent to her so she could claim her just due.
       When she stepped on the porch, Fio noticed a box and a large envelope on the porch that must have been delivered down the back driveway while she was at the top of the front driveway. She picked them up  and frowned--she hadn't ordered anything. Then she noticed the address was four blocks up the street.
       Yep the Post Office had struck out again!
     By the way, does anyone know of a nice place to which Fio could donate her genes? Apparently, they're of no use to anyone in the family anymore.



Saturday, August 24, 2019

Confessions, My Dependable Fan, and Forward Movement

Fio's incessant curiosity was not encouraged by her birth family, which has made her all the more curious about everything she encountered.  
       Translation: she  noticed that the door to the back room of Walgreen's was open last week so, hoping the door wouldn't close automatically, she stepped inside. The room was deadly dull, just stacks of boxes on boxes, so she stepped out in just a few minutes. There's probably a camera in the room and  Fiorella's unannounced inspection was recorded for posterity, but it doesn't matter. Walgreen's also has film of her dancing in the mirror when the store first put in cameras to record everything that went on at the pharmacy counter, and, just last month, Fio accidentally unscrewed the top of the line pole to entertain herself during a long wait in the pharmacy.
     Lesson: Don't ever invite Fiorella over unless you're prepared to explain every nook and cranny.  On the other hand, if you visit her, keep your mouth shut because she'll interpret your most innocent comment as a critique. Remember, she is the child of a mother who critiqued EVERYONE'S house and also came down hard on not only Fiorella's housekeeping, but on her decorating, Your faithful correspondent still squirms at the memories.
Fio thinks Sonia Dog is a fan because whenever Doggie has a chance, she puts her head down on whatever Mommy has written and drools on it🧑
Congratulate Fiorella. She spent several hours yesterday going through notes and putting them in labeled piles--music, art, stories, her nuclear and extended family, her Rusyn family and all the ships at sea. Ideas and observations sprout out of her like johnson grass--a weedy, hard-to-control Texas weed--and she wants to get some use out of them.

Friday, August 23, 2019

Hour by Hour Report

Strangely, Fiorella, who is interested in almost everything else, has never been particularly interested in food except to eat it. She'll cook when she has too--for insatnce, the salmon she and Doggie eat every day for protein--but that's it.
       Wait, come to think of it, she used to bake cakes when her children were young, but that was because she liked decorating them.
No wonder Fio's instincts made her wait till later in the day to finish her post. Guess who showed up at her door this morning with a big smile on his face and a man named  (John?) Janson accompanying him? George Mayfield--whom she crossed swords with about the oak slaughter and the savaging of her land. It turned out that the county wants to clear the right-of-way sides of the road. Mayfield kept talking to Fio about about the traffic and how she'd be able to see better when she pops out of her driveway, etc., which she countered by saying there's hardly any traffic now, and she can see just fine as it is.
      After a lot of talking, Fio thinks she's gotten them to back up a little, but she's planning to be johnny-on-the-spot when she hears the chainsaws roaring up. She has her own chainsaw, you know, so there might be a modern-day sword fight in the offing.
Fiorella spent most of the afternoon running around on small errands that should have taken no ore than an hour and a half, but ended up taking three hours. Nothing earthshaking--Target for some art supplies, Best Buy for a new toner cartridge, H-E-B for Pinwheels, plus a mail pick-up. It shouldn't have taken that much time, but the temperature is still over 100, and Fio had to wander the stores to find someone to help her, a sign of the technological times.
When Fio drove back into her driveway and got out to grab her trash can and wheel it back down the drive, Mayfield's friend ambled up, and they had a nice long talk about the history of her land. Turned out Janson's family has lived in the area from way back, and he knew the name of the original owners. Nice guy, but Fio is suspicious. She thinks they're keeping an eye on her.

Thursday, August 22, 2019

Fiorella's Information, Plus a Complaint From Sonia Dog

There's nothing like a meet-up with a long-time friend to put Fiorella into raptures. Friend Paula couldn't make it yesterday, but friend Evelyn filled the bill. And, of course, as Fio drove down to Austin, her strange and wonderful brain swung into action, and she wound up jotting down new story ideas every time the traffic slowed, which wasn't very often this time around. For sure, God's angels were keeping watch over your girl.
Puff, puff, puff--Fiorella has a full slate today. Her yard man will come to mow the lawns and move around some more flagstones, and as soon as he leaves, she will be off to help register people to vote, though she doubts she'll stay the whole five hours. She also has to drop by Austin Heart and try to pick up a medical device to make sure her blood is not too thick and not too thin. And, when she comes home, she has to put out the trash for the Friday pick-up, then drive Sonia Dog over to Dairy Queen for her weekly Pup Cup.
Kudos to Minnesota son who tried to help her long-distance to install a new cartridge in her printer. Turns out it was the wrong cartridge, and she'll have to go over to Best Buy and pick up the right one.
Fio looked at her list yesterday and decided she wanted to finish off her new acrostic, which covers all her paternal relatives down to the grandchildren generation. She'll probably add in the great-grands later, but that's for another day.
Dear SPCA: Mommy said that the next time I wake her up at 2:00 am to go outside and do my business, she's going to leave me out all night, which I do not appreciate. Doesn't she understand that when a girl has to go, she has to go?

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Wednesday News, plus Blues

Yes, your Fio, who always has a writing implement in her hand, accepts all pens offered to her by doctors' offices and advertisers because if she had to buy them, she'd be bankrupt by now.
Congratulate your faithful correspondent. She used to work the crossword puzzle in the newspaper 
every day, then, several years back, switched to the anagrams. Yesterday, she not only did the anagram, but the crossword puzzle--well, all but Eight Miles High band, Canadian french fries dish, and New England fish. And no, she doesn't want to go look them up. That would be cheating.
Maybe Fiorella's tackling of the crossword puzzle was energized by her get-together with friend Ashley at Starbucks earlier in the day. Fio took her beloved book with her to the meeting, the book tracing the history of her paternal ancestors that Cousin-in-law researched and published, and, of course, Fio cried yet again as she explained the family's history to her friend and how happy she was to finally have her own identity.
Fiorella put Sonia Dog on leash, and the two of them walked down to the new bridge to see what they could see. The road over the new construction has been paved now, but there's still clean-up work to do. However, the channel of the creek seems tp have been smoothed over, which may cause problems in the future.
Fio would like to be more active in regard to worthy causes, but she is only one person, and she's already overloaded. Yes, she's moved on from the post-death paperwork, but she still has last year's taxes to prepare, and a house to make ready for sale, and a dog and family to tend to, and a writing career to revive, and languages to learn, art to create, and music to compose.  Is Fiorella whining? YOU BET!

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Fiorella's List Goes on Forever

Fiorella is s-l-o-w-l-y chugging along, but she still has a lot to do, like the 2018 taxes, like finding a way to get her INR checked, like learning how to reach Documents on her Mac, like finishing off the gigantic acrostic of her paternal family. Okay, she  admits that finishing off the acrostic is not as dire as the taxes, INR, and Mac problems, but it is important to her because (1) it involves her extended family, which she has had very little contact with, and (2) she enjoys the challenge.
Maybe when all the above are off her desk (the desk behind the couch that used to be Husband's before Fio cleared the top of it off the other day), Fiorella will be able to throw herself into a more intense investigation of the Rusyn connection, especially the language. Yes, once a linguist, always a linguist.
Bastrop son has invited Fiorella to his daughter's graduation from her kiddie swim class. Since he's been exercising with her in his in-laws' pool for about a year, Baby should be head of the class. Of course, Fiorella's transportation will be a problem, but she's considering driving to Austin and leaving Baby Car in a restaurant parking lot, then contacting Uber for the rest of the journey. She'd reverse the arrangements, of course, to get home to Georgetown before Sonia Dog's suppertime.

Monday, August 19, 2019

It's All About ME, ME, ME, ME !

The author in Fiorella is screaming to be set free. Not only is she coming up with some sparkling dialogue, but her plots are getting thicker. Now if she can just find the time to pull everything together.

Actually (Fio's favorite word this season), she thinks her vampire story will be stronger because of  the time lapse between when she first wrote the story and present day because back then--although she used her family's hometown as a background--she didn't know about the Carpathio-Rusyn connections. Nor that Dracula was from the Carpathians (although from the southern end rather than the northern end, which Fiorella's forebears emigrated from.

There are other books Fio wants to get out there too, of which you've seen selected  episodes--the Mik and Sigrid story, the Sabrina and Bram story, the unfinished Lolly and Bogart story, the unfinished Marisol and Tony story, and all the others Fio can pry out of her computer's seemingly locked safe. Yes, your Fiorella plans to BOMBARD you with steamy romances, and if you get tired of them, you can turn to her short stories, poetry, greeting cards, songs, plays, and posts, posts, posts, posts, posts.

Fiorella would rather live in her fictional world full-time, but right now, she has to center on  emptying her house and preparing it for sale, working on her 2018 taxes, and trying to save the world from the disaster that is Donald Trump.

Oh, did Fiorella forget to tell you that she's planning to paint a portrait or her granddaughter and is fooling around con el espanol denuevo?

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Fio, Fio, Fio, Fio, Trump

 Fio writes books, poems, short stories, and FB posts. All of them are about what, to her, is the most important thing in the world: human relationships.
Not sure whether it was a dead dog or a dead fawn off the side of the road the other day, but it was obviously fresh kill. Dog or fawn, Fiorella's heart wept.
Your faithful correspondent had a bad time yesterday. The heat hung heavy in the air and Sonia did not want to go outside. Neither did Fio, but she had to drop by Target to pick up dog stuff, colored pens, and vitamin pills. The heat was still bad when Fiorella got home so she turned up the ceiling fan and lay down to rest--and maybe catch her breath, which the heat seemed to suck away. An hour or so later, she began prowling around the house again, trying to get things ready for daughter's visit, but she still wasn't up to speed
Fio is still in love with her Carpatho-Rusyn origins. It fascinates her that she has always been drawn to the intricately designed patterns that are displayed on the ethnic group's FB page. She just wishes she spoke the language. In fact, she wishes she could speak many, many languages. Oh well--maybe in her next incarnation.
By the way, have you heard that Trump is considering buying Greenland?

Saturday, August 17, 2019

From the Life of a Writer to the Life of a Linguist

Fiorella has been going through the yellow tablets like wildfire lately. The ideas were coming fast and furious while she was on the road yesterday, and she kept praying for red lights so she could record her inspirations en su libreta amarilla.
Have finally realized that "up date" is the code word for screwing up the works. Fio was having such a problem with her "updated" cell phone that she had to take it into the local Verizon to get it straightened out.
Ivanka Trump, fashion fraud,
Buys the fabric cheap abroad
Hires a down-and-out designer
And gets the patterns sewn up in China
Attaches her name to the final seam
Then sucks up the gelt like a vacuum machine 
Walking out of 104 degree weather into an air-conditioned H-E-B is like leaving hell and entering heaven. Are those angels singing or the zings of cash registers?
OMG, Fiorella told someone that the Chinese/Cantonese word for dog is gai, but it's actually gao. Remember that!

Friday, August 16, 2019

Labor, Bugs, Action

It took Fiorella more than an hour of walking back and forth to the waste basket, but she has finally gotten the top of Husband's desk cleared off enough that she can work on it instead of on una libreta amarilla balanced on her lap while she sits hunched over on the couch. Of course, not everything ended up in the trash. Fio made piles of items she thought her offspring might find useful or claim as  souveniers of times gone by. She also kept the pile of cards that had passwords on them, although they're probably all out of date.
       The next thing Fio has to do is make the desk HER desk. Hello, convenient place to store her PC and Mac. Hello,  flowers! Hello, pics of the kids! Hello, drawers loaded with steamy romances in the making! FEMININITY RULES!
Wow! Fiorella noted a reddish something on the floor just inside the kitchen door this morning that looked like a squashed dog biscuit, so she ignored it till after lunch--when she realized it was the remains of a large scorpion. Needless to say, she quickly scooped up the body and tipped it into the outside trash can, just in case it would spring to life again.
Guess what?! Fio's acrostics are a big hit with her cousins, the Ohio ones she hooked up with again at the reunion in Tennessee--even the ones who disagree with her politically. Now to finish off that acrostic for the other side of her family. After that, as she's told you, she wants to see if she can do an expanded acrostic that can include younger members of both families. And then there's the genealogical chart she has in mind....

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Change of Location

Fiorella had a wonderful visit with friend Paula yesterday, and they decided something frighteningly momentous--to move from Dan's Hamburgers, where they've met for years, to the McDonald's down the street. Fio suggested McDonald's because she's been meeting there with friend Evelyn ever since they deserted Starbucks when its decor changed from small tables to long planks reminiscent of a college dorm or a German drinking party.

McDonalds has changed since Fio used to take her kids there when it was a teenager and kiddie heaven. The McDonald's that Fiorella is now patronizing is very adult--a large building surrounded by a large parking lot (which Dan's lacks) and the inside is semi-divided into two large rooms. We will still have to walk to the counter to order our food, but the menu offerings are not limited to hamburgers and deserts. And--hold your breath--the food is delivered to your table!

Best of all for Fio is the privacy, the space between tables which will allow Fiorella and her friends to not only exchange confidences, but also talk in their normal voices rather than screeching to be heard over the din.

Fio would never have believed she would switch out of Dan's. Her family's been going there since her middle-aged children were in grade school, and she knows most of the staff by name. Once, one of the guys led all of the customers in singing "Happy birthday" to her, which she still considers to be  one of the highlights of her life, but time and circumstance march on so Fiorella's rondezvous with her friends will now be at the sign of the red and yellow clown.

Wish her well.

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Messages, Messages, Messages, Messages, Messages

Fiorella's cell phone isn't working right. When she tries to send a picture off somewhere, after she fills in the comment, she gets NEXT instead of SEND, and nothing happens. Hello, Verizon! Hope you are open tomorrow!
Fio was so bored at a meeting yesterday morning that she pulled out her pen and did a quick sketch of a woman standing nearby. She also left early--it was either that or start snoring, but by the time she got home, she felt sort of sick. 104 degrees is not her kind of weather.
In this era of fakery, the goose-list telephone calls are coming fast and furious. Within five hours, Fiorella slammed the phone down on three of them that were purportedly from Social Security about "irregularities" in her account.
The final episode of "Blood and Treasure" will run  this evening and, sad it say, Fio won't miss it. She was taken with it at first--the action, the settings, the sensuality, the way the main characters interacted, but it got old fast. Besides, she's pretty sure she's seen the show before. A rerun?
As you know, Fiorella is hell-bent on getting the house in shape so it will sell well, but her heart hangs heavy. This house is the house of her dreams, but she knows, from HGTV, that the people who look at it will sniff at the (really quite attractive) linoleum in the master bathroom which protected the floor when Husband forgot to turn off bath water, at the fireplace which has a sitting area in front of it, at the built-in desk in the den, at the step-down to the front room, which Fio thought was cool, and which she's never tripped on. They'll also talk about thinning out the trees and maybe even remove the rock edge around the driveway--which will be a BIG mistake.
       But that's how it is. Hopefully, Fiorella will move into a nice duplex arrangement with Younger Son and his family, but who knows? She has tried to prepare for the future, but no one can predict what will actually happen.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Writing, Writing, Writing, Writing, Writing

Fiorella's wonderful nephew and his wife visited her for THREE hours on Sunday, during which twe all exchanged life stories, solved the problems of the world, and ate Klondike Bars. Nephew also gave her information about publishing possibilities for her unpublished, and books in chapter form, something she has been considering lately. Yes, the ol' writing bug is biting her again, and that vampire story she wrote centuries ago is the one with the fangs.
Of course, Fio also wants to put all her poems together in book form too, which will be difficult because she's been spouting the stuff since forever. and she comes up with new twists and turns on a daily basis. Most of her earlier stuff is forever lost, like her first short story, written when she was in her early teens--Mother, who loved reading, was uneasy with writing.
Do not give me sorrow
Or I'll beat you up tomorrow
Not with my fists, but with my pen
And you'll never give me sorrow again
Speaking of writing, Fio dropped in at our local biblioteca today to research Yury Buida and the Rusyns in general, and she's brought home about fifty pages the librarian printed off in Russian with no translation. Fiorella's hoping her two years of roosky yahzeek many, many moons ago, will be able to turn the trick.
Is there somewhere in the world
Where people are at peace
With themselves and with each other?
Where children grow up in love
Not violence, hate, and fear?
Where life is not a constant battle
Between right and wrong? 
     Please, God, give me strength,
     The strength to battle on

Monday, August 12, 2019

From the Newspaper to the News

Fiorella gave The American-Statesman a hard time at the beginning of the week for not delivering her newspaper two days in a row, so then they sent her two copies of it for two days in a row. Then,the next morning, they didn't send anything so Fio called at 8:30 and was assured she'd receive a paper by 10:00. At 10:30, she called again and got the same promise, then at again at 12:00--when she was told that she'd called too late to get the day's paper.
     From now on,  IT'S WAR!
     Fio is giving The Statesman three days to figure out how to deliver a newspaper, and then she's going to trace down the delivery guy and confront him. We'll see where everything goes from there.
The next thing on Fiorella's agenda is to look up information on Yury Buida, a fellow Rusyn. (Maybe Fiorella's compulsive writing is genetic.)
Dang, the driver's side door of the Queen Mary keeps hitting Fiorella in the forehead when she gets out of the car, each time adding yet another v-shaped indentation to her brow. Just what she doesn't need--another wrinkle.
I am Fiorella
I stand alone
My husband is dead
And my children are grown
But don't think I
Am frail and weak
Indeed, my dears,
I've just reached my peak
No one is talking about the shootings in El Paso and Dayton anymore. After all, we're all accustomed to headline massacres by now. Ho-hum, just another mass shooting.

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Feom Colbert to Taxes

Fiorella likes to go to sleep with Colbert's monologue chuckles in her ears before she goes to bed, but all too often, the dang sports section in the preceding news program puts her to sleep--briefly. And when she awakes up, the last-night host is chatting with some stupid celebrity Fio doesn't care a fig about.  GRRRRR.....
Guess what? Texas has a neat scheme going to keep naturalized citizens from voting by not renewing their drivers' licenses. Apparently the reasoning behind it is that most naturalized citizens are Hispanic and will vote blue so their licenses and voting privileges have to be removed.
Your Fio had a showdown with Home Depot yesterday. A nice young woman helped her find the fencing and garden wagon she needed and pointed the way to the registers, which turned out to be electronic, of course. Yours Truly gritted her teeth as the two elderly men in front of her, a customer and an employee, exchanged laughs and stories. Finally, realizing she had small chance of getting checked out, and even less of chance to get her hefty purchase to her car, she took her hands off the bar of her customer cart and walked out. Home Depot lost about $150 on her sale, she figures, but then, the store not really geared to customer service. Fio will remember that.
Hooray for the library, the font of all knowledge. Fio walked in and asked the guy behind the counter to help her with her cell phone, which had decided it didn't want to forward her photos anymore. Daughter had tried to help her from long distance, and nothing had worked, but after a few tries, Robert, bless him, was able to get the phone working again. Viva la biblioteca!
The dining room table is cleaned off again, although now Fiorella has to figure out where to put everything she took off of it. Whatever, she's GOT to start on 2018's taxes . . . but not till next week😁

Saturday, August 10, 2019

Reflections on Yesteryear

 Fiorella's mother was of the stay-at-home variety. She'd taught high school, but resigned of course, when she became pregnant, which was the rule back then.  Men and women had different roles. Men strode into the world and made the money necessary to support the family and played golf on the side, while women stayed home and took care of the house and the children. Mother's only social outlet was Sunday at church.
Mother had The Eye. She knew how to make things look nice, and she knew what everyone else should do to make things look nice too.
One day when Fiorella was in her first semester of college one hundred miles from home, her father called and said her mother was crying because she hadn't heard from Fio for a while. Yours Truly  immediately rectified the situation and, from then on, called her mother once a week, usually on a Wednesday, but moving her calls up to every day when Mother was dying.
Fio is proud to tell you that she and Husband bought her mother a mink jacket two years before her death. Mom got a kick our of catching women at church glancing at her and turning to alert their friends to her luxury.
Women were still second-class citizens when Fio was a young'n, but they made a dramatic acceleration in worth during the 1980's Reagan recession. Fiorella's father was already retired, but younger men were suddenly laid off,  and the only way families could make it was for the wife to find a low-paying job to tide the family over. After a while,  the economy got better, but by then women had become accustomed to working outside the home.
Excepting seven years while her children were young, Fiorella took home a paycheck herself, sometimes from two or three jobs at the same time, until she retired.

Friday, August 9, 2019

More Poetry by the Rhyme Queen

I have my ups and downs
Some days are worse than others
But I would rather live my life
Than any others
Here I am at seventy-seven
Long past time to go to heaven
(Or wherever I'm destined to go)
But if that place is dull
Lull after lull after lull

I'll apply for a transfer below
North, south, east, west
Fiorella is depressed
Nothing to do but grab her pen
And leap into the fray again
Forward, Fio, don't look back
Fight the good fight, en garde, attack!
Fio rows her own boat
She has no other choice
Days and days and days go by
Before she hears a human voice
I'm stressed and depressed,
Not at my best,
Having a bad day
Suggest you stay away

Thursday, August 8, 2019

From the Ridiculous to the Philosophical

Fio's inveterate multitasking backfired on her yesterday.  Forgetting that she had put six eggs on the stove to boil, she sat down on the sofa and started going through her mail.  A couple of hours later, she heard a large POP from the kitchen--her eggs were not just hard -boiled, but ROCKY-hard-boiled and their shells were shattered to pieces. Nothing to do but toss the mess over the back fence for the ants and animals that prowl by night. You would think Fiorella had learned her lesson, but no, this morning, she was fast at work scrubbing our the egg pan as she ate cherries for breakfast and fed Sonia Dog during pauses.
Oh, Fio forgot to tell you that when she went to FedEx Kinkos to get her acrostic photocopied, SHE WASN'T CHARGED! The registers were down, and everyone that came in got free service. She's hoping this happens more often because she's sure that her constant patronization is what has moved Kinkos into the top level of the stock exchange.
Here I am at seventy-seven,
Long past time to go to heaven
Or wherever it is I'm destined to go--
But if it is dull
Just lull after lull
I'll ask for a transfer below
Hey, hey, Fio is making progress on her widowhood, she's got piles and piles of firewood in her yard, and she's riding high, wide, and handsome on FB, so maybe her own light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. But then, she still has theose taxes to pull together. GRRRRRRRRRR!
What if we are all in hell now, and what we call "death" is heaven?

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

Intervention Needed

Fio is very angry--but then that seems to be her constant state these days. Her newest gripe is that amuseum, not that Fiorella is wild aboutfor two days running, the American-Statesman hasn't delivered her newspaper, which she depends on--anagrams, comics, and an article or two--to get her started in the morning. She called the paper, of course, waited through the interminable clicks and clacks, and finally got a real person. On Monday, the real o was able to get her a late newspaper, but the steel-hearted bitch that Fio got on Tuesdaywouldn't waver, even when Fiorella said she was going to drive six miles down the street to a convenience store, buy a newspaper there, and send the Statesman a bill for it. Stay tuned--Fio may also come up with more diabolical scheme.
The highlight of Fiorella's day yesterday was that she met up with romance-writing friend Jan at Fish Daddy's. The discussed the romance market (saturated), the state of the world (going to hell in a handbasket) and their own lives (Jan's is pretty good, but Fio's, as you know, gets worse every time she turns around.) Yeah, Fio spilled her guts.
On the way home, Fiorella stopped at FedExKinkos and got thirty photocopies of the acrostic she designed that unites all her cousins' names . She'll put them in the the mail tomorrow, with the full realization that most of her clever word-plays will be dropped in a waste basket after a day or two, but if she she's lucky, maybe a cousin with an artistic side will tuck Fio's work of love away in a memory book. (
As an artist, Fio learned long ago that most people don't recognize true art unless it's labeled. or hanging in a museum--although she's seen  far two many items in museums that should have been chucked in the trash can. And don't get her started on those awful sad-eyed  urchins or the gold-edged schmuck that Thomas Kincade turns out in his "art" factories.
Has Fiorella emptied herself of her vitriol? Well, not quite yet. Look for more to come.

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Fiorella has GOT to start working on her romances again. She keeps coming up with great dialogue that she writes down on her yellow pad (su libreta amarilla).

Sonia Dog Puts in Her Two Bits

Why does Mommy say she's going upstairs to get "dressed" when I've never seen her wear anything but T-shirts, shorts and slacks? Hmff! I doubt if that woman even owns a dress.
Good grief, Mommy is trying to save the world again. She spent the weekend combing the internet for statistics on massacres and mass shootings so she can advise people on when to stay home. So far, she's learned that August is the safest month (even mass murderers have to take vacations) and that the safest dates are the fourth, the ninth, the tenth, the fifteenth, and the nineteenth. Interestingly--and scarily--Fio had a feeling another biggie was on the way.
The maid is coming today so Mommy rushed around cleaning up the house. I don't understand human relationships that well, but isn't the maid supposed to be the one who does the cleaning up? It doesn't matter to me--I like Raquel. She's the one who finds the play toys I've lost.
OMG, Mommy's on a tear! She's even washed out my bowls and scrubbed the pad under them. That frozen chocolate frosting she's been eating spoonful by spoonful has turned her into Superwoman. Hey, maybe I could get hold of some of it myself. I've always wondered what flying would be like....
Mommy, the TV, and me
Just us three
When we settle down at night
I'm happy as can be

Monday, August 5, 2019

Fio Declares War!

Fiorella is still furious, but this time about a real-life massacre, not a potential massacre, and not just one massacre, but two on the same time day--the first of them in El Paso, Texas, the second in Dayton, Ohio. The first was  motivated by racial hatred, and the second was an attack on a neighborhood bar.

Both of these tragedies could have been prevented if Trump had pushed for the of kind of gun laws enforced in Australia, Britain, and Canada.

People, Fiorella understands if you are loyal to the GOP.  Her parents were Republicans, and she grew up with conservative values, most of which she still holds today, but she totally loathes Donald Trump (who isn't a real Republican anyway). He has turned us against each other, damaged our country's image abroad, estranged our allies and embraced our enemies, dragged our deficit into a hell-hole unknown, messed up our trade agreements, encouraged and engaged in corruption, threatened our parks and forests, and has no class, dignity, or morals. His only god is money, and he doesn't care whom he swindles to get it.

And the aforementioned are just the sins that Fio can  think of off the top of her head.

But what makes Fiorella the most angry is his attitude toward children--any children, even his own, whom he ignored (except for using them tax as exemptions and shareholders) until they were old enough to participate in his nefarious con games. Other people's children, of course, are of no use to him. He doesn't care if kids are drinking toxic water, if they are gunned down in their classrooms or while shopping for school supplies, if they are locked into cages, or even if they die in cages, as some already have.

Trump doesn't much care about adults either, unless their last name is Trump, or they, at least for the moment, they can be of use to him. But if one of his hirelings lets his ethics show, the sucker is booted out the door and replaced with a sewer rat as slimy as Trump himself--someone like Mnunchin or Devos, whose aims seem to be to suck the country dry, then sail off in their fleet of yachts before anyone is the wiser.
People, this is a dark, dark era in our country's history, but Fiorella thinks the times, they are a-changin', that there's light to be seen at the end of the tunnel. But whether there is or is not, Fio will continue to Ring the bell/ Scream and yell/ Fight the good fight/ And write and write, and write! 🧑

Sunday, August 4, 2019


What is the country coming too? Fio checked the statistics for the past ten years and found that there is, on average, a mass shooting (four or more deaths) or a massacre EVERY day, and that they're becoming more frequent as hate pervades our nation.


Indeed, our government endorses the firearms culture and tries to convince MORE people, like schoolteachers, to arm themselves. It's like setting up  a latter-day shoot-out at the O.K. Corral, but the results won't necessarily be the same.

What would it take to get gun laws passed in the Unite States? Obviously the deaths of people attending outside concerts, enjoying a night in a club, or buying their school supplies in malls doesn't mean a thing, so how about a mass shooting in Congress itself? Or at Mar-a-Lago?And if that doesn't work, how about projecting mortuary photos of the victims on the White House walls?

Take your pick, but do SOMETHING!

Saturday, August 3, 2019

From Silly to Serious

If you've been following Fio, you know by now that the most frightening words that she can utter are "I'm bored," which means she'll soon be devising a way to amuse herself that you may not approve of. (So sad/ Too bad/ But wasting time/ Is a crime)
Fiorella's hair is now long enough that she can pull it up into a tiny pony tail, which has gotten her to thinking about following through on her long-time vow to let her hair grow long, then braid it around her head in an up-do favored by her high-school Latin teacher, Elor Osborne, whom she adored.
Did Fio tell you that Son was so afraid she would wander off into the airport like a stray dog that he arranged for her to be met by an escort with a wheelchair at the other end of the line? Fio dismissed the chair, of course--after two hours of sitting in a plane, she needed the exercise--but kept the escort, who was not only pleasant, but good-looking to boot. Hubba, hubba!
Fiorella doesn't care about your "right to bear arms." Public safety supersedes it. You aren't supposed to yell "FIRE" is a crowded theater, if you get the connection.
The family reunion Fio attended has put her on the political warpath again. Her grandfather was an immigrant, and he contributed to the welfare of this country through his occupation and the way he lived his life, as did his offspring, and as do his seven grandchildren today. All countries need the flow of immigrant blood to keep their blood and their brains and hearts from growing stale. DUMP TRUMP!

Friday, August 2, 2019

Sonia Dog Ponders Her Universe Again

I am so proud of my mommy. When she and her oldest pup were sharing a hotel room at their family reunion, she left the toilet seat up, just as I've trained her to do, although, for some reason, it made her puppy laugh.
I feel sorry for Mommy and try to take extra good care of her because of her birth defect--she was born with two legs instead of four, poor thing. Maybe that's why she never chases squirrels.
Mommy is feeling sicky today. I could have told her that half a chocolate cake was overdoing it. My vet won't let me have any chocolate at all.
Mommy can't find my pill bottle, but I don't care unless it means she's going to withhold the peanut butter she usually dips my pill in. I humor her, of course, and pretend I'm not going to take the pill without the bribe, but the truth is that the med is in a capsule so I don't taste a thing except that yum-yum peanut butter.
Thinking it over, maybe chocolate is to Mommy what peanut butter (which she does not like) is to me. Hmm....

Thursday, August 1, 2019

Celebration Time!

 Be happy for Fiorella--her gastroenterologist told her that the reason that she's been able to sleep through the whole night lately is that the new drug (Dexalant) is WORKING! No more acid reflux! So, of course, to celebrate, Fio stopped by H-E-B on the way home and bought herself a Dove Bar, a chocolate cake, and a can of creamy chocolate fudge.
      And no, she's not sharing!
Along the way, Fiorella also stopped in at Chase Bank to recheck what the interest is on her mortgage, and guest what? The guy she talked to, Jeremiah, is from Ohio! Not only that, but he's from the same Akron area that Fio is from. Nothing like talking about heavy snow, the Soapbox Derby, and Goodyear blimps.
As requested, Fiorella sent photos of her house to Cousin Julie, but admitted to her that the pictures were taken from the most flattering angles possible. No reason to tell anyone that the ground is so rocky nothing will grow.
Fio's paternal grandfather was an immigrant who came to the United States to work in the Pennsylvania coal mines. His sons moved to Akron to work at General Tire. One of them, Fiorella's father, moved to Texas when he was offered a better job with the company. Fio moved to Georgetown to be closer to her job in Temple. Migration is part of most peoples' lives and always has been. The search for food and better living conditions is built into us--that's why mankind emerged from Africa and populated the planet. That's why migrants should be welcomed into the United States.
Did Fio tell you that she interested two women in her gastroenterologist's office in her book by saying, when asked, "I write sleazy romances," then handing them her card? They giggled and promised to look her up on line.

(Now, excuse, me. I need another piece of cake)

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

And More Rhymes

When Fio gets on a roll
It's hard for her to stop
Up and up and up she goes
Over the mountain top
I have no middle name
My parents are to blame
No Ann or Kay
No Sue or May
But they loved me all the same
It's eventime and Fio's low
She's done a lot today but yet
Tomorrow, there'll be more to go
Sometimes Fio's rhymes
Are really crappy
For which she's sorry
But if they're snappy
They make her happy
And that's the end of the story
Stop it, Fio! Get off that horse!
You've got to plot another course!
Sober up and stop your rhyming
Step outside--the sun is shining!

(Pray for Fiorella--she's caught in a rhyme warp)

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

Messages, Mnemonic Devices, and Genetics

So many things to do,
So very little time
When will I be through?
When will my life be mine?
And why the heck am I
Reporting in by rhyme?
      How can Fiorella follow her plan of gathering her poetic outpourings into a book when she's continually producing more? And why does she wax poetic in the first place? Hmm...her brother also writes in rhyme so the tendency must be genetic. Mother didn't write poetry herself, but she was always reciting lines like Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn/ Rued the day that he was born, and Fio knows that Mom's father was also a poetry spouter.
     But why did Fio and Brother make the step up from reciting to writing? Probably because it's a challenge game. we play with ourselves. Rhythm ( boom-a-lay, boom-a-lay, boom-a-lay, boom) and rhyme (hello, fellow) are our chessboard pawns, and composing a meaningful mssage with them is where the fun begins.
That's all that Fio has to say
About her poetry today 😁


Monday, July 29, 2019

Travel, Reunion, Rusyn, Politics, Birthday

Elder son has kindly put Fiorella in flying mode for her trip back home to Texas. In other words, he's checked her in by cell phone and delayed his own flight back to Minnesota so he can first supervise her departure. AS you know, Fio doesn't handle crowd scenes well.
Your faithful correspondent enjoyed her time at the family reunion and she's looking forward to next year's, if it works out. There's something strengthening about uniting with one's relatives, especially if your family that knows how to laugh.
Cousin Norma has researched the family origins, and it turns out that Fio and her paternal cousins are all half Rusyn, a Slavic group that drifted down from the Carpathians. No wonder we're all fair complected and lactose-persistent. Hmmm...we all like chocolate too. 😁😁
Changing the subject, Fio thinks the Democratic presidential candidates, instead of making war on each other and thus giving fuel to the opposition, should concentrate on toppng each other with their plans to actually make our country great again.
Saving the best till last:

Sunday, July 28, 2019

Three More Short Poems

I may be little, but I am fierce
Exactly the way I need to be--
A rattlesnake coiled up for the strike
So don't you dare step on me
I'm difficult by my own choice
Strong of heart and loud of voice
Don't try to boss me
Don't think to cross me
But be glad I'm tough and rejoice
Word play
Every day
Keeps the mind sharp
And the wolf at bay

Saturday, July 27, 2019

Travel List

(1) Just before Sonia Dog and Fio left the house for the kennel, yours truly spotted a hunk of baguette that  baby dog crammed between the cushions of the couch. Looks like Sonia is storing up food for winter. What does she know that we don't know?

(2) Fiorella didn't pack her fingernail scissors, so of course, her prize nail (left hand, pointer) started splitting the second she closed the car door and headed off to Brother's house to spend the night bwith him and his wife.

(3) It's hard to find your way around other people's bathrooms. Oh, so that's where they've hidden the waste paper basket! 

(4) At Brother's house, Fiorella hauled out last year's reunion book and put her sister-in-law through an intensive review of the cousins. The review helped Fiorella too--after all, she doesn't see them every day.

(5) Tell me more about your extended family, Fio.
 I am proud to say that my five paternal cousins , my brother and I, are the grandchildren of a coal miner. He came over from Slovakia to work in the Pennsylvania mines, and he died in the mines, leaving a widow and three young children. Life was hard, but the family stayed together, and all of us in the third generation are doing better than most. IMMIGRANTS ARE THE STRENGTH OF AMERICA.

Friday, July 26, 2019


Fiorella apologizes for posting so late. After delivering Sonia Dog to the kennel yesterday, she finished off her own packing and drove into Austin to spend the night with Brother and his wife so they all could get a early start to the airport this morning. The airport was, of course, a madhouse, and Fio is thankful Bro and wife knew their way through the tangles. The flight itself was not as enjoyable as she had anticipated because the AC over her head did not work and the seats were so uncomfortable. An aside: strangely enough, Fio was the only person on the plane who raised her window screen to look at the clouds above and the green below.
Strangely enough, Fiorella had some deja vuing about the snarl getting out of the airport, and she's convinced that Husband took that same path when the family visited Cousin Tom way back when. It's interesting what kids remember.
Fio has settled into the hotel, but not without technological pain--she didn't know how to get the computer on the hotel's system, and she messed up an attempt to use her cell phone (=her camera) as a telephone. The guy at the desk must be sick of helping Fiorella by now, but Elder Son, whose flight schedule got screwed up, will be joining her in the hotel at about midnight.
Oh, Fio almost forgot to tell you that she bumped into a big, blond, scraggly-looking guy in the hall who had tattoos everywhere there was skin. He glanced at her DUMP TRUMP button and said, "Right on, and we're gonna keep him in office till 2024!" Realizing he hadn't caught a good glimpse of her political adornment, Fio responded, "Look again. I have a different opinion." He laughed at his mistake and waved his hand as he hurried down the hall. Now THAT'S the way people should deal with each other. No  arguments, no name-calling--just two people politely disagreeing.
Changing the subject, during the trip, Fiorella has also been filling su libreta with lines she wants to use in poems and books. Yep, she's got the bug again.

Thursday, July 25, 2019


Fiorella had a great time with friend Evelyn, then Friend Kaye yesterday, but she went through hell to get unto Austin. I-35 is being expanded so the traffic was v-e-r-y slow, which drove Fio crazy. After almost an hour on the road, she started hitting her palms on the steering wheel, clenching her hands and lifting them in anger, honking her horn, then crying, then screaming and yelling. She calmed down when she finally reached Austin, of course, and when she had to stop at a traffic light, grabbed her libreta amarilla and scribbled all her reactions down down to use in a story. Writers are like that.
Fio isn't angry right now, but she is deeply saddened. Her world has shifted again, and there is no balm in Giliad so she must wipe her eyes and fight the good fight. Heart-wrenching changes will have to be made.
You'll excuse Fiorella if she cuts out early, but she needs to start packing for her trip to the family reunion.

Wednesday, July 24, 2019

Hope for the Day

Fiorella woke up feeling good. Then the depression settled in--the worry, the disappointment, the heartbreak. Reluctantly, she crawled out from under the covers and ran her fingers through her hair, preparing herself for the battles of the day--and realized her left earring, a simple gold hoop, had abandoned her as she slept. She sighed in resignation. Nothing to do but trudge upstairs and see if she could find a matching hoop in the mess on her bathroom counter.

As she stood up, she glanced at the arm of she black leather couch she'd been sleeping on.

The gold earring gleamed against the the leather like a queen on a throne.

Thank you, God. I'm taking this as a message of hope.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Sonia Dog's Take on the Situation

Mommy is very strange. She wastes her time looking for things she's trying to find rather than sniffing them out. Everyone knows that a good nose beats out squinchy eyes any time of the day.
I'm very concerned about Mommy not getting enough sleep. Eight hours is just not enough time for a system to build up the energy to run after a deer or even catch that lizard that lives in the garage. I myself favor a twenty-hour nap each day, although I do divide it into segments-- before breakfast and after, before lunch and after, before supper and after.
Sometimes Mommy comes home with the smell of strange dogs on her clothes, which I do not like. She is my mommy, not their mommy. Wait--is she playing me false?
In the evening, Mommy will often watch TV.  I'm not sure what she gets out of it, although that Colbert guy seems to relax her before bedtime. I myself prefer the commercials that feature cute yipping dogs and have been known to yip back.
Mommy does many nice things for me, like putting the toilet seat up so I can lap at my own height, but the sweetest thing about she does is give me the best part of her salmon.--you know, the skin with the brownish rind beneath it. Yeah, nothing says loving like fish rind🧑🧑🧑


Monday, July 22, 2019

Responsibility, Afterrrrr, Brain, Smiling, Situation

Sometimes Fiorella gets tired of being a responsible adult and wants to crawl back
into her mother's lap and cry.
Before Husband died, Fiorella took care of the house, yard, bill-paying, taxes, and family relationships. Now she takes care of all those plus the insurance companies, legal back-and-forths, and getting the house ready for sale. Do you wonder that she feels overloaded?
Fio's brain's is heading south, but she'll cling to bits and pieces of it as long as she can hang on--which may be quite a ride.
Fiorella is on a campaign to make herself smile more, the way she used to do, but Husband's death made it vital for her to take on a hard-nosed persona in order to deal with organizations like Williamson County, shame be its name.
Fiorella has been thinking it over and decided that, yes, if she or her family were in danger, she's cold-blooded enough that she could kill. Not that she has anyone in mind or even has a gun, but if the situation arose....

Sunday, July 21, 2019

Frustration Station, Wondering, Warrior Woman

The state of the country and the state of the county have been getting to Fiorella lately so, of course, she wrote poems about the situations:

              Frustration Station
I'm weeping and wailing and pulling my hair
About not getting anywhere
But wrong is wrong and right is right
So I won't go down without a fight

Where are the poets of the other side
Who beat a rhythm, stage a clever rhyme
Who advance their stance with skill and wit
And entertain us with their own playtime?

               Warrior Woman
Woke up this morning with my flag unfurled
Ready to take on the worst of the world
Sharpened my wit and unsheathed my pen
To join up with the righteous battle again

Saturday, July 20, 2019

Wmson County, Statesman, Wardrobe, Delivery, Oops

The guys who were supposed to show up on Tuesday or Thursday didn't show up yesterday either  but, on examining the site, Fiorella did find two big, full trash bags hidden on her property.  She's considering delivering them to the County Commissioners now that she has their address.
Fio had a leisurely day planned, but bad spirits had other plans. Once again, her newspaper was not delivered--not to the door, not to the mailbox. She looked up Luann, her favorite comic strip, because, as always, it was at a pivotal point, but couldn't find her anagrams.
On the other hand, Fiorella has decided on what to wear to her family reunion. She'll travel in slacks and a moss green shirt, wear white slacks and a sea-faring shirt on the first day, then another pair of white slacks and a beach shirt on the second. On the way home, it will be the beige slacks and moss green shirt again. Yup. Your Fio packs light. She has to because she's also packing a ream of three-hole paper and her Mac so Elder Son can show her how to run off Fiorella 2018. Yes, Fiorella knows she I told you she'd mastered the art, but it the blogs printed backwards and she wants them to print forwards.
Did Fiorella tell you she met the neighbors three houses up the street yesterday? Their mail had been delivered to her house so she walked it up there and, since no one was at home, stuck it in their door. Then, when she and Sonia Dog swung out later in the day to take the newspapers to be recycled and pick up a pup cup and a dipped cone from Dairy Queen, Fio heard a car horn bipping at her,  realized she had hadn't closed the trunk firmly, and pulled to the side of the road to correct her error. The car stopped beside her to make sure she was okay, and its occupants introduced themselves. They were the same people she had been trying to deliver the letter to. earlier in the day Wow! Sixteen years out here, and Fio's finally getting to know her neighbors.
Yes, this blog was published incomplete and unedited, all of which Fio has just corrected (she hopes).  Another case of Fio having too much to do in too little time. Might also be because neighbor Michael was kind enough to come over and figure out why Baby Car wouldn't start. Something about a cybernut or whatever, but he's got Baby in his garage now and I know she's in good hands.