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!
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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......
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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!
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     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.