Between Times

 Your girl is having a hard time making yet another switch, this one to the multi-tasking of taking care of all the finalities/legalities of the sale and, at the same time, finding a new house. Plus, she doesn't even have a calendar for the new year. Plus, she can't find her treasure trove of yellow tablets that she's probably packed away somewhere. 

Also, Fiorella accidentally stood up her wonderful realtor when she spent way too much time delivering Christmas cards to about six people in the neighborhood who had been especially kind to her and then drove down to the local shopping center to deposit a check and pick up a few things she needed and then took forever to get home because the weather was bad and she had to drive  v-e-r-y  s l o w l y. 

Good grief--now your girl can't track down all her checkbooks from four months ago onward, and she needs it to be sure she's fully paid the miracle workers who repaired her porch beam.  Nothing to do but be first in line on Monday when Chase opens and throw herself on the mercy of a Banker.  

Fio will also have to consult someone about the status of car payment and paying off her home mortgage which means there better be a lot of Hershey Nuggets lying around next week. There is only so much her overloaded brain can absorb without being refreshed by chocolate.

Hoping your girl and her tribe can find a nice house soon. It's hard to live alone.

 

 

 

 

Reporting In

 Whew--it's a wonder that Fiorella is writing today, but opening her computer and entering words of wisdom and wonder is an excuse for her to sit down for a few minutes instead of running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. New Year's preps, you ask? Hahahahahah! As if Fio has any time for anything that doesn't involve selling the old house and buying a new house. Thus, today, she not only distributed those embarrassingly late Christmas cards to her pals in Lost River, but also dropped by the shopping center to pick up some light bulbs and deposit a check from the people who are buying her house. In the meantime, Realtor Mallary had compounded a good list of houses for sale that Fiorella and family have to check out as soon as possible. 

Fio also ran into the probable new owner outside in the yard where she was watching the men checking on the roof and, of course, your girl couldn't resist giving her a tour of secret places and filling the newbie in on the neighborhood. Maybe Fio will give her a copy of one of her romances too.

Hmm... maybe Fiorella can get a good start on the cozy she has in mind. Nothing like a teacup murder. 😁

Two Downs and an Up

 TUESDAY: Fiorella is exhausted--and hungry. She and Son L spent far too long tracing down and looking at houses, and when they opened up their lunches in mid-afternoon, they discovered hers had been filled wrong.  And after Son drove her home, she couldn't find her phone lists or the stacks of Christmas cards she'd taken with her to mail. An emergency trip to Walgreens for chocolate and Pandera for a bagette helped, but now there's tomorrow. And to think, when she woke up this morning she'd thought she'd be able to finish off her Christmas cards and work on the cozy mystery that popped into her head. GRRRRR! 

The houses she and Son looked at were not very inspiring. In fact, they were disappointing. It seems that because of the way she sold her house, she must buy a new one, when she'd rather have a gently-used older model that would give her more room.

Oh, Fio forgot to tell you that she mounted her Christmas cards, double-rowed, over the fireplace, something she couldn't do while the house was on the market, and it looks absolutely charming? Hmm...wonder if she'll have time to walk around to neighbors tomorrow and give them her own Christmas cards.

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Aftermath of Christmas 2020

 Again, Fiorella has messed up. That previous post was supposed to have been posted yesterday. HOW THE HECK DOES THIS NEW BRAND OF BLOGGER WORK?!

Don't tell anyone, but your girl has dragged one of the smaller Persion rugs back out of the garage so Sonia Dog can have a warmer place to rest her gluteus maximus than the cold, bare concrete floor.

There's still more to go today regarding getting Fio's belated Christmas cards out, but the pile is dwindling. The first group will be dumped in the post-office mail box today. Hoping that by Christmastime next year, Fiorella will be settled and maybe have a granddaughter helping her.💗

OOOPS! Fio forgot she's got to get cards out to (1) friends, (2) neighborhood, (2) Mazda and Chase.

Does anyone else apologize to the refrigerator when it starts dinging because she hasn't closed it all the way?

 

 

Finishing Up Christmas

 The evolution of the long-hair style has begun. A couple of the female TV newscasters have tossing just one of those curls over a shoulder. Fio herself is waiting for her hair to grow long enough to braid. Yep--back to her childhood.

Sonia is clearly disappointed that nobody new is visiting today. She had a great time with each and every person who showed up for the Realtor's open house. 

It's catch-up day for your girl. She's still got Christmas cards to sign and mail. Then there's the rest of her baggage to box. Yep, some moving company is going to make a fortune off her!

Fiorella is so accustomed to being threatened by her computer that it seems strange that, thanks to Jake and Son L, it seems weird that nothing is going wrong.

Now that we have a price on Fio's house, we can look at for-sale advertisements for the new one.

Christmas As It Comes

MERRY CHRISTMAS! And it's started out as a very happy Christmas for Fiorella. She's sold the house, which means she can move on into the next adventure in her life--finding another house, one that she can share with Son L and his family

Reminiscing as she gulped down her breakfast, Fio counted up the different houses she has lived in, starting with one on Stetler Avenue in Akron, Ohio. Her second house was in Waco, Texas, where her family moved to when she was in the second grade. Skipping over two college dorms, Fiorella's third residence was a small duplex--her first home as a married woman. Two years later, she and Husband moved to a more spacier rental, and then Husband's father rewarded them with a place of their own. Later, she and Husband financed a larger house themselves, and then, after the children took wing, they moved to the country and enjoyed five forested acres for several years................                                                     And now, your girl  is on the brink of buying house number eight to share with Son L and family. Wow!

What a restful Christmas day!The weather is coolish, the house is neat as a pin, and Son L will be coming over this afternoon to help Fio with her computer.

Hooray! Between Son L and Daughter's BF, your girl's computer was cleaned out enough that it's stopped sending out threatening messages. Yay!

MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS to ONE AND ALL!

'Twas the Night Before Christmas....

MORNING: It's the day before Christmas and suddenly droves of prospective buyers are coming out of the woodwork. Fio never guessed her house would arouse that  much interest--six showings yesterday and two showings so far this morning. 

THE SURPRISE: Sonia Dog was the star of the show. She loved everyone who came through the door, and they loved her.

AFTERNOON: To her surprise, Fio was at the table for most of the afternoon signing away her home to a young family which she'd particularly noticed during one of the showings because they'd removed their boots before coming into the house. Your girl is just now digesting the reality of the sale. It will mean a lot more work boxing up, but will also provide her more freedom--Doggie will be allowed to sleep in the master bedroom again and Fiorella won't have to hide the computer cords anymore.

ALL IN ALL: After two years of tension, Fio can finally relax. What a wonderful Christmas present. Thank you, God!

 

 

WHAT A DAY!!!

 Yo, ho, ho, and  bottle of rum--as if your girl ever drank a full bottle of anything alcoholic in her whole life. Sure, she joined in with the crowd when she was in college, but the interest soon faded. Other people weren't that lucky.

Hey, hey, hey! Six potential purchasers of of Fiorella's for-sale house and their entourages, all in masks, trailed through her abode today. All seemed to go well, but Fio was surprised that so many people could afford acreage.

Sonia is whimpering right now. All our visitors made a fuss over her at the door, then HAD THE NERVE to leave after they'd toured the house when what she wanted was for them to stay around longer. After all, Mommy is soooo boring.

Mommy was "boring" because she was tied up in pulling together a 2020 Christmas card during a pandemic in a house that had been turned upside down in preparation for sale. Sure, she'd had the sample 5"x7" from Kinko's for a while, but it took some deep thinking to come up with a project that was clever, simple, meaningful, and--most important--composed only of what she had on hand because she had to stay home and welcome her potential guests.

No problema! Your Fio is a veteran of using whatever is available so she rolled up her sleeves and hand-printed this year's Christmas message on graph paper in red ink, then glued it onto a greenish page ripped from a lined tablet, then cut tiny batches of holly out of a the remains of a deep green shoe box, then finished it off by using her trusty hole puncher to produce "berries" out of red paper which she glued onto the "holly" as needed.

 

 

Moving Onward!

When they got married, Husband and Fiorella were college students living on side jobs and subsidies from their parents, their first Christmas tree was only two feet tall, placed on a coffee table, and decorated by Fio's clever paper cut-outs and their parents' leftover adornments. Of course, as years passed by and their jobs got better, the trees got better too, but this year, as announced, your girl is skipping the tree altogether. But don't worry--she'll go full throttle next year. 

Speaking of full throttles, the house of Fiorella's dreams is now officially on the market. Now to check out what's available in the Austin area. Your girl wants two rooms of her own to house her art and writing, but she may not get it.

Fio still can't find that missing lens of her best glasses, but that ten-year-old pair--the one that would have given Husband conniptions because it's held together with Scotch tape--still does the trick. 

Mike of All Trades finished off the roof work this afternoon, and he also hauled off two  big lumps of cement, the ones that Fio couldn't even lift. Blessings on him😊

Hoping one of those antiviruses comes Fiorella's way because if there's one thing she learned during the past year, it's that she was not born to be a reclusive nun.

 

              

Regarding a Christmas Tree

 Fiorella never really realized how boring daytime TV is until the pandemic forced her to use it as her social medium because therwise, she'd be staring at the wall all day. Yep, her neighbors are distant, her dog has yet to learn Human-eez, and, for some strange reason, her family and friends don't want to stay on the telephone with her for hours on end.

Congratulate your girl. She's finally come up with a clever-but-meaningful Christmas card design. Today will be dedicated to its finalization, printing, and mailing....she hopes. 

Because it gets dark earlier now, Sonia Dog goes to sleep earlier and.... wakes up earlier. Needless to say, Fio is not too thrilled about Doggie having to answer the call of nature at five o'clock in the morning. 

Hoping all of your girl's posts are reaching you. She still hasn't figured out what has printed and what hasn't. Well, MERRY CHRISTMAS anyway!

   How odd it will be/ To not have a tree/ For Christmas time this year/ But I want to make clear/ To all I hold dear/ That they're still beloved by me 💗 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas 'round the Bend

 IS IT SUNDAY ALREADY? How did that happen?

Not that Fiorella has much Christmas prep work this year--at her request, she and Sonia Dog will be celebrating alone--but she's running ragged with keeping the house in pristine shape. After all, that gallows-looking erection at the top of her driveway will soon be hanging a FOR SALE sign.

Your girl's Christmas card will be out soon, but even now, she's wondering if she should change her theme from The Nativity to Santa Claus....or how about Partridge in a Pear Tree?

What's going on outside? It is cold, cold, COLD! Are we going to have snow? 

Fio's scotched her first two Christmas card candidates and has worked out a much simpler, more effective design, which she'll be posting soon. But first, she'll have to whisk her final copy off to Fed-Ex Kinko for a 100-card print out. Yep-- Fed-Ex, the envelope guys, and the post office make a killing off your girl each year.

Almost Christmas!

The twenty-fifth is fast closing in on Fiorella, and, despite the unrelenting TV reminders, your girl is not prepared for Christmas. In fact, aside from wishing everyone well, wrapping family gifts, and designing her usual original card, she won't be celebrating this year--at least not like she used to. 

As you will remember, Fio and Husband hosted a big, joyful family dinner for Christmas, and the year after his death, Fiorella did the same, but the next week, she dragged her beloved twenty-year-old fake tree, piece by piece, up to the road for the trash squad to collect. There was no other way. Her life had changed forever, and she'd have to sell her 3015 sq. fit home and chart a new path. The obvious choice was to set up housekeeping with Son L and his family because it would mean she could remain near her familiar stomping grounds in the Central Texas area, get to know her only grandchild, and help with finances. 

It has also meant emptying all her cupboards, shelves, and drawers, then packing everything away in boxes, then lugging said boxes into her three-car garage, which is now full. It also meant a lot of deep cleaning and expensive repairing, and that Fio is now living in a shell of a house, sort of like a care-taker. 

Of course, the virus hasn't helped her situation either--she misses the excitement of Christmas shopping.

But 2021 will be a new year and your girl has cautious hopes for it. After all, Biden will be president, Covid inoculations will be available, and Fio will be moving into a new home with Son L and his family. Wish her well!

Happy Ending

 Fiorella is terribly embarrassed--the fault was all hers. She lost the cord to her computer yesterday--well, as it turned out, she'd misplaced it rather than lost it. Uhm--full confession: she'd rolled the cord up into a ball and stuck it in back of her printer to semi-clear her counter because she'd been told a minor roof repair would be finished and real estate people would be visiting--neither of which happened. Needless to say, Son L is enlisting another company to take care of the roof job.

Concerned about her loss of computer communication, Fio woke up this morning with a dismal dark cloud over her head, but she decided to take a deep breath and plan out her Christmas cards, even though there was an annoying ping-ping-ping from somewhere around the desk across the room. Nothing to do but check it out. 

WAIT A MINUTE! Isn't that the thick white block usually connected to my power cord? Hmm...what would happen if I pulled that cord out that seems to be attached to it?

And that is now Fiorella recovered her cord, learned she should pay attention to pings, and lived happily ever after.

Catching Up with the Day

Fiorella can't seem to get her posting times correct simply because The new Blogger keeps never gave her a "here's how" chart. Instead, it's every man/woman for himself/herself, and Fio was never good at guessing games. Also, she's gotten the idea that her homey kind of blog was not what The Powers That Be where trying to attract. Won't they be surprised when a hundred years from now, school kids will be studying her comments and observations on the twentieth century!

Time marches on. The FOR SALE sign will be hammered into the ground in front of your girl's beloved abode and some realtors will be coming over to look at it, which means Fio will have to clean the place up again. You'd be surprised how much hair a large dog can shed overnight.

MY KINGDOM FOR SOME DECENT WHITE PAINT TO TOUCH UP SOME CABINETS!

Daughter and her significant other visited this evening, and Fio was reminded of how little contact she has with the rest of the world, partially because of the virus, but mostly because she's lived alone for the past two years. Sonia Dog is a great comfort, but not much of a conversationalist, and, being that Fiorella lives on acreage, she rarely even sees her neighbors.  But if things go as planned, Fiorella will be moving in with Son L and his family within a few months, which she hopes will sharpen up her conversational skills. 

She also hopes to revive her writing career. There are  at least four books and about twenty short stories packed away in boxes in the garage. Hoping they're still relevant.

 

 

Hoping and Hoping

 Fiorella likes to sharpen her decaying brain with the newspaper anagrams each morning, and most of the time, she's able to--sooner or later--rearrange the letters into words--but today was spectacular. At almost first glance, she recognized favor, bribe, nimble, and shadow. Hoping this is a portent of what the rest of the day will be like 💛

Hooray, hooray, the vaccines arrived in Austin today, which means there's hope yet for Texas, the country, and the world 💖

Fio is still glowing from her heart doctor's positive review, especially since she NEEDS that extra energy to finish up the last of the house repairs and prepare some resemblance of a holiday celebration.

If anyone asks what Fiorella wants for Christmas, it's a computer that works ALL the time, not just when it feels like it. (Is there such a paragon?)

 

 

 

Hot Off the Press!

 Whazzup, Fiorella?

Well, Fio had a surprisingly G-R-R-R-E-A-T afternoon, which she wasn't expecting at all because it was a visit to one of her many doctors' offices, the one she used to go to to get her finger pricked by a series of coumadin nurses until somebody decided to save money by firing the nurses and sending machines to patient's homes so they could draw their own blood, which your girl cannot bring herself to do. 

Got all that?

Second verse: The system has turned topsy-turvy again, and Fiorella was called in to Heart Hospital not only for a blood draw, but also to get her heart checked out, her blood pressure recorded, and a few other related prods and pokes. Apparently. she will have a twice-a-year check-up from now on, with a special set-up for her finger prick every month by by a doctor down the road. Sounds great to Fio😀

Oh, but the best part of her visit was becoming better acquainted with Dr. Mack, an energetic young man who knows how to explain things, who seems to care, and who... who actually LAUGHS! Fio could stay in his office all day!

The next best thing that happened was that the helpful, pleasant woman behind the counter in the waiting room tried her hand at fixing Fiorella's glasses, one lens of which had escaped its rim. Fio, who has good arm strength, but very little finger strength, couldn't persuade the lens to slide back into place, but her new friend did it in three shakes of the proverbial lamb's tail.

EXTRA: Last month, two different medical personnel casually referred to "your diabetes" to Fio, which surprised her because she had never been informed she had it. Therefore, wanting to set the record straight, she carried her big bag of daily pills into Dr. Mack's office for interpretation. He confirmed that none of them were for diabetes and there was nothing about diabetes on her chart. Whew--dodged that bullet, but maybe should cut down on the Easter candy. 😊

From Beginning to End....

 Fiorella wants so much to build a fire in the den on this cold day, but she dare not do so now that the house is up for sale and everything has to look perfect at all times. Hmmm...maybe she could turn on the fake fireplace in the front room. To be continued....

Monday can't come soon enough for your girl. She wants to buy some white paint to touch up a few nicks and scratches around the house, but there is NO, NO, NO way that she's gonna go into a store packed to the brim on the weekend.

Ahem--don't you think that a buyer would want to pay extra for a house that a prominent blogger has lived in? Just askin' 😊

One thing you can bet on--no matter how cold it is later in the day, Fiorella is going to be outside moving things around and tidying up the back porch. This girl likes to stay active, inside and out.

End of story: Fio couldn't figure out how to start the front room fireplace so she turned up the heat.

 

 

 

On the Go, Go, Go....

 WTF is going on with Blogger? So much for your girl's posterity--everything Fio wrote on the llth has disappeared and she's high and dry again. THIS NEVER HAPPENED WITH THE ORIGINAL BLOGGER! 

Fio finally figured out how to turn the windshield wipers on and off in the new car this morning, but opening up the trunk still eludes her. Also, she has a problem with her passenger-side front mirror because she isn't tall enough to get a good look at next lane over. Maybe adding a cushion to her driver's seat might help--and maybe also cure her problem with sun glare.

EEEEK! Fiorella sorted through her breakfast pills today and discovered that the pharmacy hadn't kept up with her usual dosage so she got on the phone lickity-split and will be picking up a refill at the drive-through later this afternoon. Skipping her coumadin/warfaran is not a safe thing for Fio to do.

Fiorella feels like a stranger in her own home. So much furniture has been cleared out of the house and into the garage that it echoes, and what's left has been shoved into drawers and closets, never to be seen again.

Three "tours" through the house have been booked for next week, so your girl will soon be running around trying to make it even more perfect. And then there's Christmas to prepare for....

 

 

 

 

 

Closer and Closer and Closer

 The pictures of the house got taken, but not while Fio was on site. Instead, she was at the doctor's, waiting for two hours to get her heart checked. Good news all the way around--your girl's heart checked out so it will be fourteen months until she goes under the knife again, plus Sonia Dog was fast sleep on the back porch when when Fio got back to the house, which means she'll accept exile while prospective buyers are in the house. To top it off, Fiorella, on her umpteenth search of the premises, finally found her purse this morning, and in the most logical place--the top drawer to her bedside table in the master bedroom. 

First thing this morning, your girl will be trying to gussy up the guest room and the master bedroom. The problem is that she's already packed up all the sheets, pillows and pretty covers/quilts and isn't quite sure where they are stored. 

Fio also needs to create a centerpiece for the dining table. Someone else had messed with great-grandmother's Haviland and tried to use a couple of the big bowls for said centerpiece, but it didn't look right so Fiorella moved the bowls back to their cabinet and will search Target for something more suitable.

Your faithful correspondent has to confess that she accidentally turned over the big trash can while she was filling it and couldn't upright it. Nothing to do but transfer her  sizeable load into the smaller can and drag it up to the road for the weekly pick-up. Maybe some nice TALL person will come along and save the day. (Hint, hint!)

Hey, hey--Fiorella has framed Son L's drawing and it really brightens up the dining room. Now all she has to do is create a dining table centerpiece and toss a couple of throws on the guest room and master for the house to go on the market.

 

Getting Ready for Picture-taking Tomorrow

 Fio's house is buzzing again. Son L and his friend are moving all the furniture off the first floor  onto the back porch so they can to make they can make your girl's cement floor-shine. Long-time friends like Josh are worth their wait in gold.

She'll admit it--Fiorella has lost her bright, pink-red purse. She was looking for a place where it would be out of the way when the nice people came over to bring her "surfaces" up to par, but now she can't find it. Luckily, both of her charge cards were in her desk drawer at the time, but WHERE THE HECK DID SHE PUT DOWN HER PURSE?

If your girl had known that crew after crew would come in and tear apart her charmingly organized furniture, she would have stacked everything into a fatalistic pile in the garage to begin with. 

And the whole time, Fiorella is fighting off a painful left knee and a relapse of her fake right hip. There's also an upcoming visit to her heart doctor. Let's face it--Fiorella's alveolar valve is probably in line for another replacement. 

Wanna know what it's like is a house preparing to move? Well, Fio forgot to take her pills with breakfast so she swallowed them all around noon, but now she wonders if it she fed herself a double dose.

Panic and Prayer

Fiorella is in full panic mode because her realtor will be coming over to take pics tomorrow morning at 10:o-clock so yours truly will have to stay up late to get everything done by that is needed to be done, like clearing off all the counter tops, cleaning out the hearth, shaping up the guest room, and providing an extra house key. Then she has to drive into Round Rock for one o'clock a check-up on her aortic valve And all of this with her purse still missing--driver's license and all. PRAY FOR HER!

 

 

Progress?

 Fiorella is in the somewhat uncomfortable position of sitting on the couch in her den while a husband-and-wife deep-cleaning team shine up everything in sight. Apparently. it's the way one prepares houses for sale nowadays, but it makes Fio nervous, like that she has guests she can't entertain--especially since they are deaf.

Okay, Fiorella admits that she isn't much of a housewife. Husband commanded the kitchen more and more as he grew older, but neither he nor Fio did much cleaning, i.e, the oven is a crusted over mess, which has never bothered your girl because all she uses it for is to warm up her daily tin-foil-wrapped salmon paddy. And tomorrow--sigh--just think...she'll have a sparkling clean oven that will have to be kept that way in order to attract buyers. (Maybe she'll eat out more.)

Selling a house has become a lot more complicated than when Fiorella and husband sold their first home. Sure, there were a lot of papers to produce and statements to sign, but no one even checked out the kitchen--and they got a good price for the place even though they hadn't hired anyone to do deep cleaning.

But what is Doggie doing during this process, you ask. Well, Fio was afraid Sonia would go whacko with unknown people in the house, but all it took was an introduction and she settled down on the couch and fell asleep.Tomorrow might be a little more difficult because Son L and his wife's brother will be shining up the concrete floors, which probably means we'll all have to stay outside for a good time while it dries.

And what about Fiorella? Well, she's her usual self--she lost the list the realtor had written out for her, lost one of her credit cards, and can't fill out an information form because, although she duly pays her bills, she has no idea what each one is for. Pray for her.

From GoopGone to Enedelia

 As usual, too much to do and so little time. Fiorella is trying to GoopGone away the remains of the paper tape that had decorated the backside of the kitchen door and, at the same time, experimenting with using white acrylic paint to cover up the brownish splotches left on the wall left by whatever was used to fill the scars left on the walls from your girl's artwork. (Got all that?)

Tomorrow is the day that the clean-up crew will come over to scour the house. Fiorella has pledged to have all counters cleared off, but she has no idea how they will handle the floors and what furniture is should be on display. 

Crap--Fio can't find one of her charge cards, which makes her nervous. She's reported it so, ten to one, she'll find the card in the car.

Speaking of the car, your girl is going to try a different tactic to get Doggie accustomed to the new car--she's going to leave both back doors open and put a pile of hamburger in back of the central console.

Did Fio tell you that she's made connection with a fellow writer from her days of glory, Enedelia Obregon? You might be hearing more about her as time goes on 💖

Wonder Woman, WHERE ARE YOU?

 Pressure, pressure everywhere, and not a minute to think. Fiorella is going crazy....er. She's still packing away the house, of course, and, at the same time, she's trying to fill out realtor information forms, like who takes care of the septic tank (Charlie Something-or-other) and who supplies her electricity, when ALL FIO DOES IS PAY THE BILLS!

Then there is the Sonja Dog problem. After a disastrous situation six months ago, Doggie will NOT enter a car again, and your girl's plan to keep her away from the house while it was being gussied up by the realtor's henchwomen was to take her on a L O N G ride. Now it's to take her on a longer walk than Fio herself can endure.

Added to everything else, Fiorella needs to sneak away at some point and pick up a door-knocker at a hardware shop to cover up the nasty-looking knob that now opens up the kitchen trash bin. She also needs a little spare time to walk up to the road and pick up her mail and, back at the house, to clear off the countertops that she's supposed to have taken care of. Then there are The Children that she has yet to post message about on FB yet and the houses on Zillow that she hasn't had time to look at yet.

See ya tomorrow!

A Day of Preparation

 Sometimes Fio outdoes herself. She had been whining about having packed away all her artist paintbrushes that she could have used to to touch up minor nicks on the walls, and then, yesterday evening, she glanced at the container full of what-nots that had sitting on her dressing table forever and realized that there were two primo paintbrushes in the the midst of the mess.

Son L is coming over to help with the packing today. Let's hope Fiorella can talk him into helping her refresh the septic tank too. Your girl has no problem tossing in the tablets, but she can't open the tank itself on her own. Ah...country living!

Whoever buys Fio's house will also get a treasure chest of leftover cleaning products and light bulbs.  Your girl and her helpers have gone all out and then some. Of course, a few of her favorites may make the trip with her to the new home--it will need cleaning too.

Fiorella binged on Midsomer Murders the other day, which was a mistake. The plots have always been preposterous, but the one in which the widow unknowingly married the villain, who thad killed her husband, then killed her son, which made her to try to kill him, was totally overboard--especially since the son was so darn handsome 💔

The rugs are all out of the house and the rooms are now so empty that they echo, but Fio and Doggie will be staying here until they can move into a new home.

 

 

Is It Friday Already?

"No one needs your old clothes anymore" runs the FB headline about how donations now overwhelm the world market. That may be true of the big scene, but Fio bets that the local scene is still hungry--you know--the clothes closets run by local churches and PTAs. Back in the day when mothers made clothes for their children--at least their girls--Fio will never forget seeing a schoolmate wearing her own last-year's Christmas dress, easily identifiable because of the yarn-embroidered sleeves. It was a lovely creation, but Fio had outgrown it, and, since there were no younger cousins living nearby, Mom donated it to the PTA clothes closet. Fio, somewhat startled at first, was glad the dress had a second showing and tried to be extra friendly to its wearer from then on. After all, we had a relationship.

Interesting.... Fiorella almost forgot to take her prescribed pills when it came time for breakfast this morning, but she's never forgotten to eat breakfast when it came time for her pills 😁

When Fio was a young mother and didn't have the time to participate, a rage for fine needlework ran through stylish womankind, which meant your girl ended up with not only her mother's embroidered Christmas tree wrap-around--the one she drags out each year--but her mother-in-law's needlework too, all of which she is grateful for. Fiorella herself enjoyed sewing and fine needlework as a child and hopes someday to take them all up again--if she ever has the time.

Fio's finally found a box she can entrust Husband's photograph enlargement to, and she'll stick a smaller oil painting of herself in there with it, just to be safe. Actually, the container had been right under her nose the whole time. Yes, you guessed it--the tall, skinny box that the Jeweler's Box boxes come in.

Being of unsound mind and hungry body, your girl drove out in the late afternoon to snag some Moon Pies, the joy of her youth, and she paid for her disgression all the way home. In fact, it was a miracle she arrived home at all because she had to drive into the sun, and no matter how high she lifted her chin and stretched her spine, she couldn't escape its blinding rays. Why, Fiorella asks, doesn't Detroit make cars for women who, even though they were the tallest girl in the class through grade school, are now just five-two?

 

 

 

By the way, Fio's computer opened up easily today, although it's still saying that "Your disc is almost full."

Moving Jitters

 It took several hours this morning for your girl's computer to decide to allow her access, and she is NOT amused. The only thing that kept her sane is that (1) Robert's guys came over bright and early to finish off the balcony beam replacement and (2) Lance, Chassity's husband, drove in to take care of a few last-minute minor repairs to the house. The whole time, of course, Fiorella was taking out trash, prettying up the downstairs, and figuring out how to make her large upstairs clothes closet look presentable.

If you run into a pair of glasses with bendable brown frames, please contact Fio, who lost them a week or so ago. She has others, of course--most notably the delicate pair that are held together with scotch tape and the purple pair that are missing a wing--but the brown ones are her favorite. Ah, well....they'll probably show up somewhere in the house, and Fiorella doesn't travel very far these days. 

Fiorella is approaching the next stage of her move now that she has a newish car, the balcony is mended, the minor inside break-downs have been put to right, and the outside faucets are now bound with old socks. She also (puff, puff) lugged two full trash cans up to the top of the road for tomorrow's pick-up. Maybe this evening, she will work on getting the glue off the remaining two doors on which she had exhibited her artwork.

Somewhere in there, your girl wants to start work on her Christmas card--either a sonnet or a clever family art show-off. The inspiration will come when it comes.

The date for showing the house is fast approaching and Fiorella is nervous. What if no one wants it, or what if she can't get a good price for it? So much rests on a good sale, and Fiorella has been working her head off for a happy ending for almost two years now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heading toward the Deadline

 Fiorella took the afternoon off to enjoy a Midsomer Murder Mystery. Well, actually, it was more of an escape from her self-assigned task of the afternoon--continuation of preparing the house for sale. It was also a way of calming her nerves--the constant urgency in the background of American shows drives her crazy.

Why haven't the guys returned to paint the new beam that now holds up the balcony? Does she have to hire another crew to do that, or climb a ladder herself? And how does she pay them?

Fio's running late today/Although she has a lot to say/But even more she wants to do/But, sadly, that is nothing new.

Please pray for Fiorella tomorrow when she will again try to install the dog guard in the new car. Sonia has an amazing memory, weighs 130 lbs, and did NOT like it when Fio installed  the contraption last year.

Your girl is hoping that virtual tour that Mallary has planned won't include Fio's master closet. It's well-appointed and roomy, but Fio hasn't cleared all her clothes out of it yet.

Not Much to Say

 I'm blank-blank eight

So don't be late--

Otherwise,

I'll evaporate 

*

The computer is playing games with Fio again.

*

Is today when the British murder mysteries are on TV?

*

Hooray, the wonderful crew that came over to repair Fiorella's balcony is doing a GREAT job, and even cleans up for itself when it closes up shop for the day!

*

Instead of ordering four POUNDS of salmon for for Fio's midday meals, Daughter accidentally ordered four SALMON, which means that about ten POUNDS of salmon ended up stacked on top of each other in your girl's freezer. Fiorella cut the first two rather handsome fish into meal-sized portions, wrapped them in foil, and placed them back in the fridge, then cut up the third fish today. You can guess what she will be doing tomorrow.

 

Telling All

 Fiorella keeps telling herself to move forward, but she is so afraid. Everything costs money, and hers is limited. She cuts every corner that she can, but then some new need pops up. If only her house hadn't needed repairs. If only her electronics would behave themselves. If only she were younger and taller and stronger. If only she could make the virus go away.

Some people are silver and some are gold/ Some people are young and some are old/ Some people are shy and some are bold/ Some people are warm and some are cold/But all can be worthy, so I'm told.

Sonia Dog is having a wonderful time barking at the guys out back putting together Fiorella's balcony, but the noise sort of drives your girl crazy. Hard to concentrate.

Back in "the day," we could turn on the television with a single switch of the knob. Then came the remote, which was great because you didn't have to get up from the couch. Now Fio must use not only a large black/silver remote to turn the TV on, but a fat, white remote to control the sound, then rattle up and down the channels as she cuts through a sea of advertisements and searches for a half-decent show. 

Two weeks to go before putting the house on the market. SCARY!

 

 

 

Difficulties and Concerns

According to the almighty computer, Fio's "disc," whatever that is, is almost full again. And according to her calendario, Sonia Dog hasn't been seen by a vet in two years, both of which worry Fiorella.

Your girl isn't handling things well. She's been instructed to clear all counters in the house so the professional clean-up crew can work its magic next week. However, that means all those things she's dragged out of dark cupboards have to be stuck back in again, and this time, haphazardly. Your girl is tired of this game. Nevertheless, she will dry her eyes, build a blazing fire, and pretend to be human.

Part of Fio's concern is that she's not sure she can pull the move off. What if she can't get a good price for the her house? What if no one wants it? What if she can't clear enough to buy a home appropriate for her son, his family, and herself? What if she's made some dreadful mistake along the way that will kill her dream?

This pandemic can't get over quick enough for Fiorella because she needs to make appointments with her various doctors. Nothing vital, but her left knee and right hip need attention. Also, she hasn't had her coumadin level checked out for months. And, on the side, she'd like to have a couple of jolts of botox to her washboard forehead. (Now, you know all.)

Somewhere along the line, Fiorella has to train Sonia to ride in the car again. As you will remember, Doggie's last couple of excursions were disastrous. First, she broke the restraining strap and ended up being bounced back and forth in the back seat, and then, when Fio used a shield-like barrier between the front and back seats, Baby refused to get in the car again. It was the front seat or nothing, and she chose the latter.

Working Hard on House and Birthday Present

 Howdy! Fiorella hopes she has her blogging schedule in order now, because her moving schedule is still a mess. Right now, she's lugging heavy carpets out of the garage (where she dragged them to a couple of months ago) to see which would be the best substitute for the somewhat raveled rug she put in the den twenty years ago. Between times, she's cleaning up the area outside the garage by moving the things she'd cleared out of it a couple of months ago back into it. Next, she'll try to deal with the pile up inside the garage door. There's also the some congestion on the counter by the kitchen door--mostly things Fio wants to keep, but hasn't figured out where to put yet.

Moving is hard, especially, when it's mostly a one-woman job. Don't get Fio wrong--son L has been on hand as much as possible for a guy who has a family and lives almost two hours down I-35. He's been great on the phone too, but Yours Truly is the one on the scene full-time.

Speaking of full-time, please excuse Fio while she cuts the salmon that Daughter has had delivered to her into lunch-time sizes. She'll also move a few more things into the garage and try to decide what to do with the kitchen mess. 

Oops, Daughter ordered enough salmon for a whole month. This may be tricky because it means she'll have to freeze two of the big boys without cutting them into meal-side pieces.

Hallelujah! Fiorella has at last finished Brother's birthday present!

 

 

    

Catching Up Again

 You know that afternoon TV is bad when the best Fiorella can find is Dr. Phil. She can only take his now-it-all bombast late at night or in small doses. Her preference is British murder mysteries, which she can never solve, of course, but which feature interesting characters and situations. Who knew what horrors lurk in the idyllic English countrysides?

Fio has had a few setbacks lately. She's misplaced her good glasses and is not happy with how the move-out is proceeding--here she has been working like a dog to clean out  every drawer, closet, nook, and cranny, when what she should have been doing is tucking everything out of sight because apparently potential buyers are polite enough to neither open drawers or closets nor inspect nooks and crannies. Remember this if you are thinking of selling.

Your girl has been working on her special birthday gift for Brother for a couple of days now, but each time she thinks her creation is finished, she adds more to it. Good luck to him seeing his coming-of-age gift before Christmas.

Why did Fiorella group so many posts on one day, you ask? Well, it was, as usual, a mistake because your girl does not understand computereeze. She'd discovered a "draft" button and thought it would allow her to post her rambles and also come back later to correct anything she  needed to, but apparently drafts are not posted, so she went on and hit the post button for the past three (3) days. If anyone hears the set-up works differently, please let Fio know. 

Fiorella will confess to you that she's hung back from taking down the info notes she's taped above the fireplace because she's afraid they'll get lost.

 

 

Horrors

Has Fiorella ever told you that she was once diagnosed as having multiple sclerosis? It was scary, of course, but she marched onward because she didn't know what else to do. After all, she had a family, was teaching at UT, and was president of the Austin Council of PTA. (Several years of survival later, the diagnosis was lifted).

Has Fio ever told you that her first pregnancy ended in a nasty three-month miscarriage and that, leaving a trail of blood behind her, she had to climb up to the top floor of the hospital to find her doctor because he had forgotten to arrange for someone to meet her at the first floor back door as he'd said he would?

Has Fio ever told you that, even though she was recovering from eye surgery and could barely see, her college department head demanded she drive forty miles up the Interstate to be questioned about her teaching performance, which, according to student evaluations, was stellar? As it turned out, the head honcho and her co-conspiritor were  planning a re-do of the English department which involved canning all experienced teachers and replacing them with newly minted college graduates--so there went Fiorella's job. (Update: the new girls quit at mid-term.)

Of course, you've already heard about the horrible day that Fio's kitchen ceiling rained on her while she was talking to Friend Suzy in England. You'll probably also remember the horrible and very expensive month-long plumbing repair job and the added complication that your girl was undergoing extensive orthodontic surgery at the same time. Maybe you'll also remember the recent soaking too, but this time, the plumber (a different one) nailed the culprit--the leak around Fiorella's beloved soaker tub--which has since then been carefully recaulked.

Fiorella's final horror is of her own making--she didn't realize Wendy Dog (Sonja's predecessor) had a real problem and, instead of taking her darling to the vet, encouraged her to play. By the time Fio and Husband realized what was going on, it was too late 😢

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving Update

 Wow--what a day! The weather was dreary, but Fiorella had a lovely visit with Daughter and Beau, who drove up from Austin. Your girl led through the house and garage to show off what has been done to prepare for the upcoming move, but, after the twosome left, she realized she'd misplaced her good glasses and, although she traced and retraced her steps, her search was in vain--nothing to do but settle down to finish off her brother's birthday present. Then she got a call from Son L reminded her that she was supposed to call a crew tomorrow to get the house ready to be photographed in December. This frightens Fiorella. A crew? She'd always done everything herself on all her other moves. She doesn't like giving over her house to other people. And she 's afraid strangers won't value her treasures. And he's also afraid things will get packed and stay packed for months.

And, regarding a new residence, Fio is afraid she'll have to settle for not just second best, but third or fourth best. All the houses her realtor has shown her on line are three-bedroom homes, and she wants at least four bedrooms Also, frontal photos of houses don't mean a thing to her. She wants to see the floor plans. 

But first of all, she wants to find her good glasses.

 

Catching Up for the Day

 High-ho, high-ho--Fiorella has more of a story to tell now that she's pulled her computer out from under Sonia Dog's belly, been informed that she had moved Thanksgiving forward a day, and driven off to Target in her shiny red car and bought the sand paper and graph paper with the help of a salesgirl with long, rich, red hair. Your girl also brought the trash can from the road when she got back home.

Fio's realtor has been sending pics and descriptions of possible future residences to her, but none of them hit the button so far. It would be nice to actually go through some of these places or at least see their layouts.

Congratulate Fiorella. She didn't gulp down a single bite of chocolate today, but instead, ate two exquisite stems of celery. 

Your girl is still a bit uneasy about having to use a small easy-to-lose fob to open the door of her new car, then to push a button hidden under the steering to handle the ignition. The car door having to be controlled by the fob from a distance is also somewhat unnerving. On the other hand, Red is a smooth rider.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, but also Fio's brother's birthday, so please wish him well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short but Sweet

 Fio has problems with her computer and television today

But she wishes you Happy Thanksgiving anyway💓

Moving Time Blues

 It's been one of those days that try a widow's soul. Son L and Fiorella met with their realtor, who had a to-do list a mile long that involved a fair amount of expense. At the same time, her cranky printer decided to take a Thanksgiving holiday, which meant your girl couldn't run off a particularly vital email. And it was too late to drive into town and pick up the graph paper she needed for her brother's Turkey Time birthday present.

The highlight in her otherwise bleak day was that Son showed her how to check her gas tank which, thank goodness, is still three-quarters' full.

Speaking of the new car, one of Fiorella's more overwhelming assignments is to train Doggie to ride in the back seat. You'll remember that several months ago, Sonia burst through the restraints and rode high, wide, and handsome in the front seat, then totally swore off car rides when Mommy had to do stupid things like stop for red lights, which toppled Doggie to the floor.

Back to the realtor, realtor Mallary has asked Fio to pack away the old, worn Persian rug that's been part of Fiorella's life for twenty years. Sure, it's thread-bare and faded, but so is Fio. Doesn't character count anymore?

Whatever, Fiorella wishes you a HAPPY, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

 

Motley Kind of Day

 When Fiorella's mother died, Husband proposed that Dad come live with us and our family, promising that we would make over the front room so he'd have a private suite, but instead, Dad chose to move into a home for retired teachers (which he wasn't, but Mom had been.) Fiorella will always bless Husband's memory for his concern about her father.

Whenever her day has been discouraging, Fio flees to the television zoo shows for relief. She loves watching the animals and she totally identifies with the attitude of their caretakers, who seem to love their charges as much as your girl loves her Sonia. Another reason Fiorella likes these shows is that she usually catches glimpses of the zoo babies, and you know how much your girl loves babies💗

Speaking of animals, your Fio has been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off (which is really actual, according to Dad, who was the neighborhood chicken-killer when he was a kid.) Back on topic, your girl is scuttling hither and thither trying to set up the house so it will be attractive to buyers, yet leave enough basics on-site that she can live there for the time being. The front room and dining room are down to basics, but there's still a pile-up on the desk in the den.

Ah, Monday. Let's hope there's a fresh British thriller in the TV line-up.  Nothing like a good murder mystery to take a brief respite from politics, the house, and computer problems.

What a great way to end the day! Thanks to Lance, all Fiorella's cupboards got checked out and adjusted or repaired as needed. That makes her a BIG step closer to the move out.

Life in Transit

Hooray for Fiorella! She's taken the new car out on the road for two days now and hasn't locked herself out of it....although she did leave it running twice when she went inside a store for a quick pick-up before she accidentally learned how to shut off the motor. For those of you who are planning on getting a new car, you have to hit the GO button, which doubles as a STOP button and hides behind the wheel. Now, if your girl can just figure out how to gas up....

Bad news--the virus has hit close to home. Michael Brown, Fio's helpful National Guard neighbor, has a mild (so far) case of it, and she wishes him well. And, no, your girl has not had any close contact with him in at least a month.

Okay, Fiorella will admit that when she dropped by Walgreens to pick up a prescription, she caught sight of a box of Russell Stover Christmas delights hidden under a shelf and bought herself four marshmallow chocolate confections....all of which she ate on the way home.😁

'Tis the season--the dang greenbriers are winding themselves around Fio's trees again. She's hopes she hasn't packed her clippers away.

Your girl has put in a call to Mike of All Trades to take care of five finishing touches, but there is still the balcony to go so Fio isn't packing up yet. Wish her well!

 

 

 

From Life to Death

Fio is worried about her neighbor, who may or may not have the virus. He's been very helpful to her and, if he is infected, she wants to help him in some way.

Son L is kindly teaching Fio how to drive her newish car from offsite. Fiorella guesses we'll all have to get used to dealing with each other at a distance for a while yet, but the end may be in sight--viva la vaccinationes!

Okay, Your Girl is getting allergic to the spaniel-dog hairdo that every woman on TV is wearing. It's really a stupid thing for Fio to fixate on, but it's probably that she has a dab of her mother in her-- Mom as you will remember, was opposed to Fio growing her hair long because it looked "foreign."

Crap! Every day there's a new problem. Today it's that Sonia Dog has a large tick on her back and Fio doesn't know what to do about it. If you run across a traveling vet with who can handle large animals, please send him/her down Fiorella's way.

Interesting: certain elements are protesting Fiorella's will, and she isn't even dead yet.

 

Reporting In

 Thanks to my parents 

 For teaching me 

To be a nice guy--

 Mom was shy

But Dad made friends with all

And so do I--

And no, I don't do it 

With favor in mind, 

But just because 

I like to be kind

*

Fio had a wonderful visit with Friend Suzy across the ocean. What is it--ten years since she and her family returned to England? Whatever, she and Fiorella are still blessedly sympatico.

Fiorella is banging her head against the wall--what has she done with the garage-door opener? It really doesn't help that it's black and so is every other electronic device in the house. 

Your girl has been watching more than her fare share of Midsomer Murders lately, but she's never spotted the villain before the cop does. She has, though, learned that rural England (1) always has a country fair in progress and (2) everyone in town has a tangled past or an awful secret.

Some people are sour/ Some people are sweet/ Some people are people/ You'd rather not meet

Fiorella Marches Forward, Ever Forward

 At 7:45 a.m., a huge truck eased its way through Fio's driveway and she and Doggie went out to see what was going on. The driver explained he was picking up the Mercedes for Mazda and needed the keys. The keys? Fiorella is pretty sure she handed them over to Mazda two days ago, but with everything that's been going on in her world lately, she knew she might be mistaken so she searched every known keys lair in the house. Nada. This could be a continued story.

The trash in the fireplace is a-buildin', and Fiorella will soon be lighting another fire. It's a lot more fun than dragging the garbage can up to the top of the road. 😁

Friend Ellen and Fio talked out politics and your girl's family problems for about half an hour last night, and Fiorella went to sleep feeling loved. There's no friend like an old (ahem-long-time) friend.

Congratulate Fio--out of necessity, she made herself some hot cocoa for breakfast, something she'd never done before. It was a surprisingly cold day, and having run out of Shredded Wheat, the only thing she could think to do was put a pan on the stove, pour in some milk, then try to get the contents of an ancient bottle of Hershey Syrup to flow into the mix. AND IT WORKED. There was some collateral damage, though--Fio left the pan on the fire too long and she lost about a third of the pan to boil-over. But it didn't matter. Your clever girl had made two big cups of her brew, and there's a second one in the fridge, ready to be warmed up when needed. 

It's amazing--and sweet--they way so many of Husband's leftovers have come to Fio's rescue. The syrup had been sitting in the cleaned-out pantry for at least two years, and your girl is well-stocked with medical supplies. She also has a nice rainbow of male T-shirts and jackets that she held back from the donation pile.

 

 

From Cars to Covid

 Pray for Fiorella. Your girl, who is at least ten years behind in the world of automobile-alogy, is going to swing into the saddle of her new hawse and hope she doesn't get bucked off. Having learned how to start, drive, and stop yesterday, and she hopes to master backing up today, but don't ask her about that back-up mirror thing. It will have to wait a while.

An hour later: It turns out that driving her new car will also have to be put on hold. Your girl's lack of technological talents meant that her baby is still sitting in the driveway. Son was kind enough to give Fio driving instructions over the phone, but it was while she was preparing lunch, and the second he had hung up, Daughter called and the dog started barking. Actually, what your girl needs is a tablet of instructions--SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS.

And yes, if you're wondering, Fiorella has never been the world's best driver. In fact, she was at the bottom of her student driving class and got stopped by the cops in the class's nighttime-driving expedition--she hadn't turned on her headlights.  Her teacher, of course, hastily explained the situation and all Fio got was a warning... and, she'll admit, a bit of notoriety.

Your girl called neighbor Michael to see if her could help with the car, but he was forty miles away...and has a headache and a fever. Fio wishes him well, of course, and hopes it's the flu rather than you-know-what. Covid hasn't hit her neck of the woods as far as she knows, but Michael, being National Guard, travels a lot. 

Fio doesn't travel much at all...just to Walgreens and, occasionally, to Target, both of which follow the rules, but she spent a lot of time at Mazda lately. Hope all the guys have been keeping their masks on.

 

 

All Thrown Together

 Don't hold your breath, but, if things go right,  Fiorella will be trading in her ten-year-old Mercedes for a two-year-old, less pretentious automobile. The twenty-two-year-old Miata sold yesterday. 

Again, don't hold your breath, but it looks like the balcony can be repaired for 8K rather than 22K. Fio, of course, would prefer a single wave of a magic wand, but--sigh---this is not a magic world. In the meantime, Fiorella will continue to pinch pennies and pray.

There is no other word but BIZARRE to describe the post-election Trump. Why won't he give a bow and leave the stage gracefully? His time is past.

Fio spent most of her day at Mazda, selling her ten-year-old Mercedes and buying a red, hot, two-year-old four-door. She also visited with her long-time pals, the guys who took such good care of her and her beloved Baby Car. Now comes the hard part--learning how to drive a car that is so different from anything she has ever been behind the wheel of before. Pray for Fiorella. 

The time has come, your Fio said/ To put to right the kitchen cabinet doors/ And call the maid to mop the floors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rattled and Revived

 OMG, there is nothing like a coronavirus to make Fiorella lose track of time. Is it really Sunday again? The day when the funnies are printed in color and Fio washes her hair? 

Whatever, it should be a good day. Son's cousin-in-law is coming over to check out the balcony, the current bane of your girl's life. Why, O why, did Fiorella insist on a balcony? On the other hand, while Husband and your girl rarely went out on it, Sonia Dog has loved basking out there in the early morning.

Fio and Son made a trip to Mazda yesterday to talk to Lutheran Bob about trading in her two ancient cars for a new slightly-used one. It was nice to make contact with old friends and to see that the company was still flourishing, and it was even greater to have Son with her. Fiorella may be a linguist, but Son is the one who speaks Automobile-eese.

The dang phone circuit has been muttering low battery, low battery every half hour ever since yesterday. Hmm...the car batteries went dead yesterday too. Is Fio sensing a pattern?

BREAKING NEWS--at least to Fiorella: Ohio has no natural lakes. And to think, your girl's mother grew up canoeing and ice-skating on the lakes and never knew they were man-made.

Ladies, why are we determined to look like every other woman on the block, which, right now, means we're all sprouting at least a yard of hair, most of it imported by in bales from places across the sea? 

Whoopee! Fio is happy to have sold off her baby car to someone who loves Miatas, and also glad that the Mercedes, Husband's pride and joy, will be traded in on a semi-new Mazda this new week. The only problem is that Fio doesn't have any transportation in the meantime and her shelves are verging on empty.

The Realtor wants Fio to get the mailbox replaced, but it suddenly dawned on your girl that maybe she could do the job herself--just knock off the crusted paint and add to the side of the box to keep it from sliding. Now, if she can find her favorite hammer....

With all the workmen around lately, Sonia Dog has been having a wonderful time.  On the other hand, if anyone made a menacing move toward Fio, Doggie would have taken them to the ground. Mastiffs are like that.

Looking forward to Daughter dropping over tomorrow evening. The more, the merrier!

 

 

 

 

Time Off

Fio went on vacation today, but she'll give you double tomorrow💗

Firewood, Trump, Chocolate

 Remember when Fiorella packed away her tongs and pokers as she bade a sad farewell to the fireplace? Well, she spoke--and packed--too soon because here it is in mid-November, and she still isn't moved out. Her three-car-garage is two-thirds full of cardboard boxes and all the minor blemishes have been repaired or replaced, but your girl is only half-way through burning all the trash wood, the front yard landscaping has been eaten by deer, the balcony do-over is still to do, and she hasn't traded in her two old cars for a younger model.

 Shame on Trump! He's gotten her so worried about his attempt to steal the election that she's become a news junkie!

Pray for Fio. She's trying to kick the chocolate habit cold turkey. The last time she put herself on shut-down was the day before Trump claimed that he had won the election. The next day, she was gobbling chocolate down like...well...candy.

Darn! You didn't pray hard enough because about noon, your girl drove down the road to a gas station and bought five dollars worth of chocolate.

Circling back to the beginning, Fiorella has now carried enough trash wood inside for another fire, which should make her realtor happy. Apparently, the less stray wood around, the better.

From Politics to Prayer

 Let's get this straight: Facism is a form of government, usually totalitarian and authoritarian, in which ultimate power is held by one person such as Hitler, Mussollini, Kim Jong Un, or, by intent, Trump. Anti-fascism is democracy that delegates power to the people.

Your girl got caught up by a cute TV show yesterday--Miss Peregrine's School for Peculiar Children. Ordinarily, Fio skips horror shows, but this one had just enough sweetness to savor the horror--and the good haunts won.

One of the joys of living in the country is gathering one's own firewood from one's own trees, trimmed or fallen. Also, as you know, Fiorella is something of a pyromaniac 😁 

DUM dum DEE dee, DUM dum DEE dee--the rhythm  drums out of the video screen incessantly, dramatizing every report and story, and it drives Fiorella c-r-a-z-y. She does not want to have her emotions dictated by TV rhythms!

FIORELLA HAS LOST HER GLASSES. PRAY FOR THEM!

 

 

From Technology to Fish

 Despite Daughter's ministrations, Fiorella is still being plagued by threats that her disk is almost full and she should save space by optimizing storage. WTF is going on here?

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, but your girl has decided to celebrate it at home with Sonia Dog in hopes that she'll stay Covid-free and be able to join in on a more populated (and truly grateful) celebration next year.

Fio just paid her garbage-collection fee through February of the coming year, but has hopes that she'll be moved out before then. And that Trump will be moved out too. 

Don't you bet that every other world leader is getting a laugh out of Trump's antics right now? Especially Putin, who's encouraging his pet monkey to make a total fool out of himself?

Daughter delivered a huge half salmon to Fiorella last night and the first chunk of it is already gone, gone, gone. But don't worry--there are sixteen more delicious chunks left in the freezer. Your girl lives on salmon, which is amazing seeing that, because her father didn't like fish, she had never even tasted it until one day when Husband came home from a guy trip with a big bass on a string. The prep work looked interesting so Fio dared to taste the finished product and...LIKED IT. In fact, as time went on, she even learned to cook it herself, with haddock and salmon as her specialties.

 

 

Feelin' Good!

 The elevation of Kamala Harris means a lot because she is (1) capable, (2) female, and (3) of color. Fiorella grew up in an earlier time, when women stayed in the home, were second-class citizens and, if they were "darkies," faced a triple whammy. 

Trump thinks he can bully himself back into the presidency like he does everything else.

Fio is proud to tell you that she finally girded her loins and went through everything on the desk in the den. Next on her list is winnowing the leftovers in the master bedroom closet.

Gotta admit that your girl didn't know Georgia had it in her to turn Blue. Good job, guys!

Happiness is when your daughter is coming to visit and help you with technology

 

Up to Date

 Wow, good news--Son's relative-in-law knows how to mend a concrete balcony. Looks like Fio can pack away those steel demolition balls and breath a little easier. Whew!

Your girl needs to cut down on the chocolate, which she runs to the refrigerator for every time she hits a bump in the road, but what can she replace it with?

It's that time of year--the creepie-crawlies are invading the house. They're little wormy things about an inch long that blend in with the brown of the concrete floor and that Fiorella squashes with whatever is handy. 

Why are we always aping each other? Fio remembers how she and her mother would raise or lower the hemlines of her dresses every year according to fashion. And then there are the necklines, the ever-changing fashionable colors, and hair styles. In this time of the virus, long hair has become the vogue. Six months from now, everyone will be shaving their heads bald.

Stupid Fiorella has packed away all her books and now has nothing to read. In the oldern days, she would have popped down to the corner drug store and picked up a paperback or two, but times have changed. All she so can do is weep. Again.

AS IF FIO DOESN'T HAVE ENOUGH ON HER HANDS, THE DAMN BLOGGER WON'T LET HER CHANGE HER PUBLISHING TIME! GRRRRRRRRRRR!

 

 

 

 

 

BACK TO EARTH

 WE WON! Now comes the hard part--knitting the country back together again. Not that we'll all be using the same color skein, but Fiorella thinks we can all come together in regard to peace, humanitarianism, and a forward movement.

People were dancing in the street yesterday, just like Fio had prophetized four years ago, but now she worries that they'll all come down with the virus. DISTANCE, GUYS, DISTANCE! 

Now that the upstairs is pretty well empty, your girl is planning to again attack the dining room, which she uses as her gathering station. There's also an heirloom crib that she has to prepare for transport--four generations of family babies spent the first months of their lives in its comfort.

Hey, hey--Son has located another contractor who might be able to take care of the balcony beam problem. Wahoo!

A warning has suddenly popped up on Fio's computer screen telling her that her disc--whatever that is--is almost full and asking if she wants to save space by optimizing storage (close/manage).  What the heck does that mean? Fiorella's childhood typewriter never asked her to make decisions😕

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Confessions, Realization, Ecstasy!

 Why did Fiorella's mother refuse to let her daughter move into a combined second and third grade class in elementary school? After all, Mom herself had been skipped over a grade, and it didn't seem to have hurt her.                                                                                                                                                               Just between you and me, Fio thought she'd failed first grade because she'd gotten "100s" on all of her papers except one, when she'd hadn't identified a pink seal. If you're wondering why the teacher, Mrs. Thomas, was using numerals instead of gold stars, it was because she was a fifth grade teacher trying out first grade for a while, but she moved back to fifth grade half-way through and a sub teacher (name?), whom Fio loved, took over until a very strict, newly-minted teacher, Miss Jackson, became available.                                                                                                                                                          Three-quarters of the way through second  grade with one of Mom's pals, the family moved to Texas, and, even as the new girl in school, her teacher caught onto Fio and, at the end of the semester, she wrote a note to Fiorella's mother about her daughter's achievements which, by then, included identification of musical passages. Mom's reaction was that the teacher was too young and too soft.

In this time of the pandemic, Fio understands why medieval cities would bar their gates to travelers.

THANK YOU, GOD! Trump's reign of terror is over. Now comes the hard work of healing and moving forward together 💖

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty-four Hours

The election drama has sapped all Fiorella's energy and she's decided to take the morning off. She hopes Trump will too, but she doubts it. As far as she's seen, he doesn't know when to stop.

Oh, happy afternoon! Friend Cassity has come over to reseal the soaker-tub. That's the tub that leaked into the kitchen a while back--twice, actually--but Fiorella is pretty sure this fix will be lasting because Cassity is a pro. (And, my friend, if you are reading this post and I have misspelled your name again,  please correct me.)

Oh, crap! HEB sent Fio five CUTS of salmon instead of five POUNDS! Is your girl going to have to brave the local fish market on her own? 

Fiorella's current must-have list includes a new mailbox and a new printer. She's also going to do a next-to-final clearing out of her closet. Then there's the dining room table, the last resting place of everything that Fio doesn't know what to do with.

Needless to say, Fio is very happy about the election results. Whew!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dang Politics

 Fiorella talked to los piedras y los arboles as she walked up the driveway to get the mail. On the way back, she picked up some sparkling rocks for remembrance after she moves and her sweet trees blessed her as she walked among them at their directions.

With everything that's going on politically today, Fio's found it hard to focus on the house. She's also found it terribly lonely. What she really wants is for someone to put a comforting arm around her and tell her everything will be all right. But then, everyone else probably wants to hear that too.

If Fio gets sick tonight, blame it on Trump. She was so traumatized by his election antics that she raced to the refrigeration for her cache of Russell Stover Halloween chocolate, then added in a half-bag of Hershey Nuggets.

Hoping, hoping, hoping Biden will be able to get rid of the horrible gangs Trump has brought out into the open--the Boogaloos, Proud Bois, KKK, etc.

The current word is that if Trump doesn't make it this time, he'll run again in 2004. Interesting concept.

P.S. The smart thing to do would be to give Fiorella a magic wand and make her queen of the world 😀

 

 

Dealing with the Uncontrolable

 Fiorella is afraid, and her heart is pounding with memories of four years ago, when Hillary got shafted. Please God, go Blue. 

Your girl is weeping-- not only for the country, but also for herself. She tries so hard to do the right thing, handles all the hard work she can by herself, and tries (even at her own expense) to make everyone happy, but out of the blue, she was hit by a surprise attack by a dearly beloved branch of her own family.  

By the way, you remember about a week ago when Fiorella snapped a branch across herself for firewood and the branch snapped back? Well, perusing FB's anatomy pictures, Fio learned that she'd wounded her left kidney. Luckily, it does seem to be healing, but you can bet that your girl is going to be more careful of what she is snapping next time.

What's happened to you, Fio? You're an intellectual--an author, an artist, a composer, a linguist--so what are you doing spending all your time scrubbing walls and crying your heart out about the state of the world?

Don't tell anyone, but Fiorella has decided to escape reality and spend the afternoon watching Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's Tuesday--I Think

 Your girl kept checking her thermometer this morning because she was feeling tired and a little sick, but after a sit-down talk with herself, she decided to clean up the kitchen and den as best she could, and--lo and behold--she's now feeling much better. Of course, her salmon-and-chocolate lunch might have had something to do with it. Or maybe it was finding those glass she'd thought were gone forever. Now if she can just find the garage door openers....

Fio was mystified by the scratches on the newly-painted door to the back yard until she realized they were claw marks made by Sonia Dog when she opened the door to come into the house. Obviously, Fiorella will have to find--or mix--a paint to cover her darling's indiscretion before the house is put on the market for some other doggie to mark up.

Younger Son is gearing up to talk to Mazda about trading in the your girl's Miata and Mercedes for a newish vehicle. There will be payments, of course--Fiorella's cars are way beyond their sell-by date.

Wondering it you've been watching television today. Fio hasn't. She had her fill of it yesterday, when everything was at its worst. Never expected to see a Soapbox Derby on an interstate highway. SHAME!

Congratulate Fiorella, who is as non-mechanical as it comes: with the help of several friends and relatives, she is finally able to use her boom box. 😋

 

 

 

Not a Good Day

 Sorry to be late today, but all sorts of thing are brewing. Right now, Fio is riding out a painful family situation and also waiting for someone to come and jump-start her car. SafeCo keeps giving her times when the mechanic will arrive--1:00 2:30, etc., but there haven't been any knocks on her door yet. Sigh--she'll probably have to call in again. Also, she can't find her glasses.

The 4:00, a nice young Arab wearing a colorful mask arrived, pumped up the ten-year-old Mercedes, and left Fiorella his name and phone number in case she wanted to sell her twenty-year-old Miata, which she eventually will. Now to locate the garage door opener that she lost somewhere in the house. Maybe it's holed up with her glasses.

Fio didn't get much done today/ So this is all she has to say/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday Afternoon Activities

 Hoping everyone had a happy, happy Halloween. Fiorella remembers her childhood scary jaunts up and down the street with a gang of other trick-or-treaters. She especially remembers when the group she was with walked up onto a dark front porch that had a big bin of apples standing by the door. The sign beside it said, "Please take just one," and, walking up to the bin, that's what we did, one by solemn one.

Your girl is shocked and angered by the Trump-inspired hooligans endangering not only the Biden campaign bus, but also every other car on the highway. SHAME!

Fio's emptied out the front room and the guest room of everything but the heavy furniture. Upstairs, both of the offices are also stripped down to the basics, as is the arts-and-crafts room, while the master bedroom is down to bedrock and the storage room is empty. The kitchen is still active, of course, and so is the den, but the dining room, where Fiorella puts things she doesn't know what else to do with, remains piled high. 

Bastrop son visited today and treated Fiorella to a hamburger, helped her with moving, and discussed getting her a single gently-used car to take the place of her Miata and Mercedes, both of which are grounded right now. Oh, and Fio got stung by a scorpion.

Your girl finally moved her unfinished stories out of the shelves into the buffet drawers, and the reason she told you this is so that she'll know where they are when she's looking for them. 

As It Goes

 So, now Trump is saying that doctors are exaggerating the Covid figures to pump up their take. How can ANYBODY support this miserable excuse of a human being? 

Congratulate Fio. Not only is she recovering from her battle with the tree limb, but she's discovered a way to repair the nicks and scratches on the woodwork--WHITE OUT. She's already used up what was on hand, so she'll be driving into town for a couple more bottles.

It seems odd not to have carved a jack-o'-lantern this year, but, between getting the house ready for sale and tending to her own health, Fiorella is having to cut out the non-essentials. Besides, politics are so intense that right now that Fio has a pretty good idea her artistic creation would be crushed and tossed into the woods. Yep, she lives in that kind of neighborhood.

Some people love the drama of the election build up, but Fio is not one of them. Her head aches, her stomach is turning, and she wants to hide herself in a closet till everything is over....with her candidate winning, of course.

Yes, Fiorella is crying again. The car wouldn't start, so there went her plans for the White Out and postage stamps. It's hard living alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Woes to Writing

 Bad news--the balcony on the back of the house has to be taken down and replaced--Fio's house is turning into a money pit. To make it worse, your girl took a hit in the ribs when she was breaking a tree limb for the fireplace and it still HURTS. On the other hand, the maid was able to start Fiorella's boom box and Fio's realtor has located someone who will take out the accumulated garage trash. 

More good news--Fio is in touch with the daughter of a cousin on the maternal side, the side on which the women for the past three generations have married guys who have surnames beginning with the same letter. Put that one down in the Guiness Book of Records!

If you're in the least interested, your girl is steadily improving from the whiplash that the tree branch she was trying to turn into firewood gave her. She's still has trouble getting up and down, but apparently the only thing broken is the branch itself.

Thought you might like a teaser from one of Fio's unpublished romances. Situation: Neil has just learned his son was hurt in a kidnap attempt. His Jag had been waiting in covered parking  at the airport and since he since he didn't have any luggage to claim, Neil was able to clear the terminal in record time, but the drive into Austin took forever.  A semi had jack-knifed across the highway and brought the traffic down to one lane. Meanwhile, his fatherly imagination, flickering at the corners of his mind, had tried to paint a lurid picture of Aidan bleeding to death on a hospital table, but his brain told him otherwise. Miss Prim was in control, and she wouldn't let anything happen to his son.

Warning--Fiorella has located a cache of short stories she will soon be unleashing upon you. 

 

 

 

Updating the Move

 Dang! Fiorella forgot to take out the trash. Oh well--it'll keep till next week.

Your girl wants to get hold of some kind of touch-up paint to cover all the nicks and scrapes on the woodwork in the house. Hoping she can convince Son to pick up a pint of something appropriate from Home Depot and, in the process, grab another jasmine to replace the one that withered in its urn.

This is going to be a weird Halloween--not that Fio's neck of the woods has ever had door-knockers, but that everything has changed. Covid is its own horror show, and it plays every day of the week.

Okay, Fiorella is running behind so she'll be adding to this post as it occurs to her. 

Because of the work on the balcony, Fiorella will probably be in the house through Christmas, which, with almost everything having been packed into the garage, is not something she looks forward to. The house is beginning to echo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Bits and Pieces

 How I love my Shredded Wheat / My all-time favorite breakfast treat/ For crunchiness, it can't be beat/ So it's the only treat I eat 😁

What's this about Trump busing in his usual attendees, then leaving them out in the freezing cold after they'd performed at the rally? 

Eek--it looks like Fiorella is going to have to grab some mittens for her outdoor faucets when she drops by Target to pick up a few extras. Hmm...or maybe she could just wrap the faucets with shredded newspaper like Husband did.

Congratulate your girl--it took her a while, but she's scrubbed every tread and riser on the staircase plus the upstairs railings. They'll all still have to be repainted, though--white doesn't wear well, and  it's been twenty years.

Looking around, Fiorella is pleased to note that most of the boxes and bags that she has bought and that Realtor Mallary has contributed have been filled and moved to the garage. On the other hand, the cars are now parked in the driveway.

Fiorella's Political Career

Running for office can bring out the worst in a person, as Fiorella learned the hard way years ago when she ran for School Board.

Your girl had been active in the community and served two terms as president of the city Parent-Teachers Association and also gained recognition as a local newspaper correspondent so you might say she had it in the bag--except that her opponent's bag was loaded with dirty tricks as petty as dumping Fio's trash bags into other people's cans to make it look like she was avoiding the pick-up fee and as blatant as, with great fanfare, joining Fiorella's church. 

It didn't stop there. When Fio listed her  four-point objectives, her opponent (her former PTA VP, by the way) claimed the same objectives. And then there was the battle of the campaign signs. One morning Fio woke up to see her sign had been replaced by her opponent's sign in her across-the-street neighbor's front yard. Her neighbor hurried across the street and said she had no choice--that it was the wish of a dying church friend. Then there was the woman who called and asked for ten signs, which Fio delivered--but when she checked back a week later, the signs were still piled in the woman's yard. Then Fiorella learned that her opponent had told the high school special-needs mothers that Fio, whose oldest was in a special needs class for reading, was opposed to these programs. 

Not that Fio didn't make a few stupid moves on her own which she didn't realize till it was too late, but surprisingly, even with the tidal wave against her, your girl got a fairly good turn-out--but not enough. 

But maybe School Board had not been in the cards for Fiorella. When she and Husband had visited Waco in the middle of her campaign, they pounded one of her signs in her parents' front yard so everyone would know what Fio was up to, but after they left, then circled the block to get a picture of the sign, it had been removed because "The neighbors would think we were selling the house."

 

 

Keeping You Up to Date with Fiorella

 After a series of flickers in the middle of the night, the house went black, which wouldn't have been a problem except that your girl needed to use the facilities. What the heck--she had lived in this house for twenty years and could feel her way to the nearest bathroom, right? You know the answer to that. When the lights came back on, miraculously soon, she herself staring at the wall of the arts and crafts room.

It's suddenly gotten cold in Fiorella's neck of the woods so she's gearing up the fireplace again. Not only is fire the quickest way to get rid of fallen branches and paper trash, but, as you know, the pyromaniac in Fio loves to watch the dancing flames.

Friend Paula called from Vermont yesterday, and it looks like she and husband Alan will be moving up there in the near future. They plan to set up housekeeping with their daughter and her family, just as Fiorella plans to set up housekeeping with Younger Son and family. The times, they are a-changing, but THANK YOU, GOD, for telephones, email, and FB messenger.

The work on your girl's house has come to a screeching halt regarding the rotting balcony beam, but Realtor Mallary will be bringing a couple of guys over on Thursday who might be able to handle the situation. Fio will keep you posted, but meanwhile, DON'T GO OUT ON THE BALCONY!

Hooray for Fiorella--she finally got the painting of herself wearing the granny dress boxed up. It took two of the big, skinny boxes that the Bankers Boxes came in and was a bit awkward to tape, but she did it and she's proud of herself--not just for the packing, but because she used what she had on hand instead of going out and buying something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keeping Up with the Local Scene

 Fiorella's Trumpster friend says she doesn't want to put up yard signs because she's afraid they'll be stolen or set on fire by Biden adherents. Hey, there--your girl's across-the-street neighbor has posted a Trump sign which neither Fio nor any one else has touched, although to tell the truth and remembering two years ago when she had four signs stolen from her yard, Fio's been gritting her teeth. 

Remember all the time and labor Fiorella put into boxing up the family paintings?  Well, last night, she pulled apart all the upright boxes, the ones that didn't have covers, and gave the paintings a safer, more comfortable bedding in new Bankers Boxes, tearing off the cardboard flaps and using them to protect the tops of the paintings.

Sigh....maybe, in the new house, Fio will be able to set up Grandpa's easel and turn out a few more masterpieces, but that will probably be a year away. Besides, who cares about sketches and paintings anymore when cell phone cameras are available--which your girl admits, she too has taken advantage of?

One of the two jasmines guarding the left side of the front porch has died, and someone or something has cracked the large urn guarding the right side.  GRRRRRRRRR.....

Now that the weather has turned, Fio has decided to use the fireplace to get rid of paper trash rather than continue hauling the garbage can up to the top of the road. It'll save on the heating bill too.

 

 

 

That Clock, the Weather, Art, A Complaint, Anagrams

About that antique clock, Fiorella will not be putting it in a box and storing it in the garage with the other boxes. Instead, it will sit in regal solitude on the front room shelves until moving day arrives. Then Fio will seat herself in Son's car, the precious clock in her lap, just as it sat in her lap when Husband drove her to their new residence twenty years ago--just as she hopes it will be in Daughter's lap when she takes it to her own home twenty years from now.

The weather has suddenly turned cold. Fiorella started strolling up the driveway to put some letters in the mailbox, then instantly turned back to the house to get her shawl. Sonia Dog, on the other hand, was ecstatic. 

You've seen the painting of Fio in the "granny dress" she made, but has your girl shown you the painting she did of herself when she was a bright and shiny eighteen-year-old just entering college? Her roommate didn't like the portrait, of course--remember, this is the same roommate who took Fiorella's boyfriend's picture down from the wall and stuck it in the closet.

Fio's beginning to think that Blogger's new set-up was designed to thwart poets and writers. WHAT THE HECK KIND OF CLIENTELE IS IT TRYING TO ATTRACT?

Just solved all four of the newspaper anagrams--it's going to be a good day😁

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Email, Chocolate, Halloween, Virus, Friends

 Fiorella the Magnificent has finally tracked down the problem with her email. Remember that she said everything had worked when she was on her land line talking with one of her kids? Remember that soon after each call ended, her  emails would stop working again? At first, Fio thought she herself was the problem, but then she realized that the land line was the only consistent factor so she tested out her theory and--voila! All she has to do to use her email is keep her land-line in close proximity. Anyone else had this problem?

Your girl isn't feeling good today. Maybe it has something to do with the half-dozen Halloween chocolates she scarfed down this morning. Okay, okay, she'll admit it--she ate the whole dang dozen.

This will be the first Halloween that Fio hasn't decorated, but she's closing up the house now and all her bats, witches, and pumpkins are packed away in the garage for a new house next year.

A poem Fiorella never imagined herself writing:  I thank God each and every day/ I sniff my my doggy's gas/ Because it means that for today/ God's given me a pass

The three of us hung together--Ann Chapman, Virginia Tschatschula, and Fiorella Plum--while we were working in the credit department of Sears Roebuck way back when, and Fio being Fio, she kept in touch with the other two when, one by one, we left Sears. Ann died early, but Virginia had a good run, while Fiorella plans to stick around a while.