Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Poem to My Children

Fiorella may have posted this poem a couple of years ago, but she's going to repost it now because, in these dark times, her children need to hear it.

             To My Children

When I am old, so very old I stink
Of unwashed underarms and brain cell death,

So old I shake, my spine and stature shrink,

I whistle, quake, and rattle with each breath--

When I am old, so very old I drool,

And age spots big as elephants appear--

When I forget my name and act the fool,

And talk too loud because I cannot hear--

Even when I'm angry, trapped in rage,

Become a miser, call each dime misspent,

When I am cruel and stupid with my age,

When I reject you, scotch your good intent--

      Remember, once I loved you of my will,

      And in my heart of hearts, I love you still ๐Ÿงก

Monday, March 30, 2020

Fio on Monday

Somehow, your Fiorella messed up her posting dates again. She's beginning to think that the Mac has it in for her.
Today is her self-assigned tax day, and Fio is not looking forward to it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if she had a live-in accountant?
It's hard to watch as Trump leads his lemmings off the cliff. Doesn't he understand he'll be killing off his supporters?
Aha! Your girl finally remembered the name of the author who wrote post-apocalyptic books for teens. ANDRE NORTON was a park ranger in real life, but apparently counting deer left her with a lot of time on her hands.
Just got another edition of the high school class newsletter, and everyone seems to be writing his obituary. Of course, we're all the same age, but Fio thinks the times we're living in have something to do with it too.
Happy to report that Lolly's story is moving along. Actually, working on it is Fio's greatest source of joy right now--probably because it's the only thing she can control.
Life goes on, even with the virus whispering overhead. Fiorella has some wildflowers now, and the trees are leafing out. Your girl has been doing some rock harvesting to improve the improve the looks of the place, but there are still some places in el parke that she's like to shape up.

Sunday, March 29, 2020

Cotton and Lolly Shape Up

Fiorella is feeling the best she has in several months, and it's all because this afteroon, she shut out the whole world--taxes, probate, erosion, house, coronavirus, everything---and immersed herself in Lolly's story. Here's a sample:
      Cotton sat down at his desk, picked up his grade book, and ran his eyes down the attendance page.  Two weeks into class, and Miss Redlander hadn't missed a day. She'd aced the daily quizzes too.
     He snapped the book shut and tightened his jaw. Dios, he wanted her to drop the class, to get out of his life--or at least move away from front row, center. Now he understood why males and females used to be educated separately. Those laughing eyes, the cloud of sexual energy that seemed to float around her....
     He frowned. There was nothing he could pin her on, but she was too much of a distraction, not only to the other students, but to him.
Yep, it's a teacher-student sort of thing, but Fio has reversed the usual set up of an older man seducing a younger woman. This time, it's the younger woman on the hunt, and she knows what and WHO she wants.
Did you see relationships like this when you taught college, Fio? 
Well, there was a little hanky-panky and a fair amount of rumors, as I remember, but nothing like the sparks that will fly between Cotton and Lolly.
Why do you write romances?
(1)Because they always end happily, although who knows what goes on after the book ends, and also because (2) all life ends in tragedy, and I want to spread happiness while I can.

Saturday, March 28, 2020

What a Day!

So, what did you do yesterday, Fiorella?
     Well, I worked on Lolly's story and was really moving along until Sonia Dog decided to flop herself upon the open computer, which put it out of order for the next two hours as I tried various remedies, then contacted daughter for Mac Central's magic phone number again, then called in, then waited for an hour and a half and called in again, then waited about fifteen minutes more before a WONDERFUL woman named Tracy not only told me how to fix the problem, but totally enjoyed my story of how Sonia Dog had thrown herself, stomach first, on the computer, probably because it was nice and warm, like mommy.  
     P.S. Tracey said that cats sometimes do this, but it was the first time she had ever heard of a dog doing it. (Remember, I always told you Sonia Dog is special!)
Speaking of Sonia, remember how, in a bid for attention, she scratched Fio's arm? Well now, either because she's apologizing or likes the smell of dried  blood, she keeps trying to lick the band-aid.

Fio forgot to report that in the morning, when she went out for the mail, she brought back six rocks to line her front garden with and intends to search out six more every day until the edging is complete.. Piedras also play into her new plan to handle the backyard erosion.
Oh, this is a biggie--Fiorella finally remembered the name of the author of post-apocalyptic books for teens that she liked so much way back when: ANDRE NORTON!
     Anyone else remember her?
Sometimes I wake up rosy
Sometimes I wake up black
But however it is I wake up
I cannot take it back

Friday, March 27, 2020

Crossing My Fingers

Fiorella has a superstitious streak in her a mile wide. She remembers how a cold dread ran through her when a relative and his family came to visit and the wife handed her a knife as a hostess gift, saying that's all she could find lying around. Fio tried to be gracious, but all she could think of was when she was a child and Great Aunt Helen gave her a penknife, then asked for a penny, explaining that you should always do that when someone gives you a knife so it won't turn on you.
     Unfortunately, Fiorella was too flummoxed to give relative's wife a penny, and the next thing she knew, Wife had left her husband and there no more family visits.
Let's get this straight--Uncle Sam expects Fio to put together her taxes while the coronavirus scare is going on? NO WAY!
Fio has told you she lives in isolation on acreage, as do her neighbors. but just how isolated we all are was demonstrated when the mailperson put North Neighbors' church mail in her box instead of theirs. Guess what? They're LUTHERAN, just like she is, and for almost twenty years, she's never known it!
Wonder upon wonders--even though she stupidly got her lawn cut too early, she does have bluebonnets in front of both sides of her horse-shoe driveway! Now to get a picture of them for FB๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™
Fiorella finally located the first thirteen chapters of Lolly's story in which her heroine has to face problem after problem. Now, if all goes well during during her "sheltered"  durance vile, Fio will occupy her time by writing six or so chapters in which the story will come to a climax, then a satisfying ending.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

How Is "Sheltering" Going, Fio?

Fiorella actually ventured outside yesterday--to mail letters at the post-office drive-through, gas up the car, and maybe stop by the Walgreen's drive-through for a refill of Hershey Nuggets. She was able to stick the letters in the mail slot without problem, but when she stopped at the gas station, she realized she'd forgotten to pack a credit card. Luckily, a nice older man opened her gas tank for her (which she still can't do) and filled the tank up--no charge, and all at a six-foot distance.
    Unfortunately, no one showed up to buy her some chocolate.
Your Fio spent most of the rest of the day putting the pages of Lolly's story together, then lining them up on the breakfast counter to skim through. Wow! That story is hot, hot, hot! Now to finish it off and consult writing friends about the latest in publishing.
Once and for all, Gwen, a fellow Wacoan, is off Fiorella's Facebook list. Yes, you may remember when Fiorella de-friended her a couple of years back when she attacked Fio full-throttle, but when she started attacking Fio's friends, your girl leaped into the fray again. In a depraved way, it was fun to tangle with someone so determinedly uninformed, But Gwen has gone beyond the pale now--with all of us, I think. It wasn't a matter of her politics, but her attitude.
     Fio should add that she herself has other friends, REAL friends, who disagree with her politics but have never called her names or threatened her like Gwen did.
Sonia Dog scratched Fiorella's arm, then tried to lick it well again while she was typing, then put on a hurt-feelings face when Fiorella refused her ministrations.
Sad to say, Fiorella has had a couple of bad visual migraines lately. Nothing to worry about, but they do interfere with her reading and writing. As always, she blames stress, but has there ever been a time when she wasn't under stress?

Wednesday, March 25, 2020


How about one of Fiorella's poems for a change of pace?

                 The Sonnet Sonnet
A sonnet is the clever use of rhyme
In patterns such as Petrarch might employ
Or Shakespeare's playful whimsy intertwine
For centuries of lovers to enjoy.
A sonnet is an unrelenting beat--
The blood's intrinsic pulse of weak and strong
That runs full-tilt for five iambic feet
In three times four plus two, a discipline of song.
A sonnet is a message of the heart,
Of Wadsworth's wonder, Milton's heavy hand,
Of Browning's love songs from a foreign land.
    While others seek the chessboard on a day,
    The sonnet is my choice of game to play

Tuesday, March 24, 2020


Oops, for some reason, Fiorella has found it hard to keep up with what date it is lately, maybe because she writes the day before her blog is published, maybe because she's home alone more than ever, maybe because  she's always trying to cram two days' work into one day, and maybe-ahem--because she'd getting older. Take your pick.
This coronavirus thing scares the hell out of Fio, as, I'm sure it does you. It's not just because she's in the more vulnerable age group, but because she's having to change her way off life. It's also bringing out the worst in people, like the profiteers who clean out grocery stores to make a killing when things get worse.
In the meantime, Fiorella is again attempting to gather together Lolly's story, which is difficult because your girl has found about ten slightly different versions of it.
Why the heck does Fio put together different cute outfits for herself every day when the only one who ever sees her is her dog?
This is so strange, but at the same time that Fiorella is worried about the virus, she a is finally recovering from that three-month siege of whatever it was that's made her the Kleenex queen of her social set.

Monday, March 23, 2020

Dark Times

These are dark times, and Fio doesn't have any smart-alecky comments or soothing words to relieve your fears. Indeed, she's huddled in the same dark closet you are and wondering how long her isolation will last, if it is safe for her to use a gas pump that a million other hands have touched, if she should have been wearing gloves when she opened her mail box, and what will all of us do when the food runs out locally, then across the nation and the world. 
    Meanwhile, as politicians squabble and bargain, Fiorella tends to her immediate responsibilities--taking care of the dog, preparing the house for sale, working on the taxes, staying in touch with friends (by email), writing, writing, writing, and praying, praying, praying.
    Fio is also trying, more than ever, to be like her mother in WWII and make good use of what she has available. Thus, she's stingy with her paper towels, toilet paper, and cups, and she shreds her old newspapers into packaging material for her eventual move out of the house....if the opportunity materializes.
     One thing that Fio won't skimp on, though, is paying her maid, whom she has told to stay home. After all, that woman has been with Fiorella for twenty years, and she has children to feed.
     However, needless to say, Sonia Dog will not be getting her yearly shots any time soon, which is scary because Fio lives in the middle of a wilderness crawling with all sorts of wild beasts who are carrying God-only-knows what diseases, but there's no way for Yours Truly to avoid human contact in the Vet's office,


Saturday, March 21, 2020

Random Thoughts about This and That

Sonia Dog follow has taken to following Fio around like a shadow and whining like there's no tomorrow. Maybe she senses Fiorella's growing anxiety, or maybe she knows something that Fio, who is tearing apart the house looking for information needed for her tax return, doesn't.
   Of course, it could be that Doggie smells the chocolate Daughter included with Fiorella's rations.
Grrrr.....Fio wasted a good hour or more making arrangements to have her year-end credit card summary mailed to her and most of her time was spent with Chase which, as it turns out, will not send a year-end summary by mail, which means your girl will have to call her friends at the local Chase Bank and ask them for help. Don't you just love the way technology has made everything more complicated? ๐Ÿ˜ˆ
Fiorella is trying to get the tax stuff together, which she's done for years, but she seems to have forgotten a lot of her hard-won know-how, probably because her mind sort of blanked out when Husband died and the legalities beat her to a pulp.
Strange noises were coming from Sonia's favorite bathroom as Fio wrote this blog so she paused in her meditations to check on what was going on. As it turned out, Yours Truly had not left the toilet lid open for Sonia to refresh herself.
Talk about an economy--the US is going swiftly downhill, and Trump's only answer is to try to squeeze money out of whatever is left. We could become a third-world nation in a month, and King Trump would still be saying everything was hunky-dory.

Friday, March 20, 2020

Mugs, Pelican, Music, Technology, Mail

Congratulate your Fio. She got the mugs (that Daughter wants) down from a high shelf in the den without incidence. Not that Fiorella has trouble climbing ladders, but she has been known to drop things. Hmm...looking around, she's wondering if she could take down the big pelican planter too.
Speaking of the pelican, it has a history. Husband's mother had it on her front porch forever, although she never grew anything in it, which makes Fio think that the big bird was a leftover from Mother-in-Law's own mother or her great aunts--even possibly, her grandmother. Interesting note: The bird's beak got knocked off a while back, but your ever-resourceful Fiorella glued it back on when she and Husband moved to the boondocks.
In sorrow and relief, Fio has delivered another load of music, mostly piano, to friend Karen for her to use or put in the fire, and there are yet two stacks to go. Sigh.

Fio has played her boom box without incident twice so far, which, for her, is a miracle. DO YOU NOW UNDERSTAND WHY YOUR GIRL IS NOT HAPPY WITH THE AGE OF TECHNOLOGY?
Wonder what's going to happen with mail delivery in this suddenly scary time we live in.๐Ÿ˜•

Thursday, March 19, 2020

From Politics to the Virus and Back

When Fiorella was in fifth grade, her teacher, Miss Grissom (later, Mrs. Pewitt) introduced a little true-life education into the classroom by allowing a short class debate on the presidential candidates. Carol Ann Adams supported Stevenson because he was a Democrat and Texas always voted Democratic, and Fio supported Eisenhower because her family was from Ohio and Ohio always voted Republican.
     How times change! Texas has been voting Republican for some time now, along with Ohio, and Fio has switched to Blue, Blue, Blue.
Fiorella would have a lot more time to write if she'd hire someone to do her taxes and take care of her inheritance responsibilities for her, but, of course, she'd have to pay them. Damn--there's always a catch!
Button, button, who's got the button--Fiorella can't find the aluminum foil she bought at H-E-B last week. She's put out a "wanted" notice on FB and hopes she'll get a result because baked salmon is her favorite noon meal. The weird thing is that somehow she lost track of the foil between the check-out counter and her car.
Ever chatty, Fiorella contacted three of her Austin friends yesterday--one by phone and two by
email. Where there's a will, there's a way.
Wondering how Trumpites are explaining Trump's mishandling of the the corona virus thing to themselves--all Obama's fault?

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Blame it on the Corona Virus!

Your faithful correspondent is going crazy at the idea of solitary confinement, probably for THREE MONTHS, in her own house. Yes, she loves her house, but she also loves hopping in whatever car she has at the moment and driving off to where people--real live people are--so she can reestablish herself as a member of the human race. But noooooo, she has to stay locked up like a criminal, and Fio has no long hair for a prince to climb up and rescue her from her durance vile.
     To make it worse, her confinement is all for the best. Fiorella's in the age-danger range (although she doesn't look that old!) and her friends and children want her to to stay around a while. Yours Truly wants herself to stay around a while too, but she also wants to gad about, if for no other reason than to escape now and then from her over-whelming responsibilities--the income taxes, the legalities (which STILL aren't finished), the packing up of the house, etc.
     No one is being mean to her--on the contrary: everyone is being very kind. Friends have volunteered to bring whatever she needs, Daughter is scouring the countryside for food to appease the palates of Fio and Doggie, and her sweet yardman has made her promise that if she needs anything, she'll call him.
     But what Fiorella wants, they can't give her--RELEASE FROM PRISON!
    (Well, she also wants to blame the virus for her cooking up her last box of Carnation Christmas Fudge and making her a little sick on it.)

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Penned in for the Duration.

Has Fiorella ever told you how much she hates being penned in?
     She knows it's for the best, that her family wants her to be safe, but it drives Fio crazy. For the next two months--maybe longer--she can't meet up with her girlfriends (not that any of them want to meet-up right now), pick up groceries in H-E-B, or look for cute dresses for Granddaughter at Target. Her life has come to a standstill--as have many other people's.
     Still--better bored than dead.
     Trying to make the best of her imprisonment, Fiorella has dipped a toe into her taxes and actually emailed information about the family ranch and her charitable donations off to her accountant.  Tomorrow, she'll work on her business returns and mileages for visits to doctors, etc. No fun, but your girl WILL prevail!
By the way, being penned in costs extra. Daughter has arranged for Fiorella to have home delivery of groceries (hello, carrots and Hershey Nuggets!) but, of course, there's an extra charge--and Fio doesn't get to flash her DUMP TRUMP button at anyone.
Oh well, maybe Fiorella can use this time to write, write, write and listen to country-western music, her new love. Her parents liked show tunes, the hit parade, and the Sunday opera, but disdained country-western as lower-class, which it is, but there's a truth in those songs that Fio is drawn to.     
    Who knows? Maybe she'll write a song like that herself someday. Okay--she'll admit it: she already has some good lyrics.

Monday, March 16, 2020

Nom de Plum, Tearing Strips

Fiorella freely admits she has an alter ego or two--or three--or six--under other names--but what's the history of her own name?
     Actually, it popped into Your Girl's ever-creative brain several years ago when she wrote a few pieces for a short-lived women's magazine, among which was a comic account of Mother-in-Law staying in Older Son's bedroom over Christmas Eve, not knowing (because Fio didn't tell her), that Son's pet snake resided in a glass cage on the bench at the foot of the bed.
     Anyway, because of the possibility that Mother-in-Law might read the story and learn how close she'd been to a slimy reptile, Your Girl decided to call herself Fiorella Plum, Fiorella being the feminine form of the first name of Firorello La Gauardia, NY's famed mayor, whose story was popular at the time. Of course, once Your Girl had a nom, she needed a surname to go with it, so what better than plum?
     Got it all? Never mind--it was funny at the time.
Sonia Dog reporting in:
     Mommy goes through strange ritual every morning: as soon as she finishes reading a section of the newspaper, she rips it into strips, ties the strips into knots, and throw the knots into the fireplace, which is now full to overflowing. She tells me that she feeds fires this way and is also preparing packing material, but I think she just plain likes to tear strips.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

Short and Sweet

Fiorella's wearing shorts today, so it must be spring. Secondary evidence is the Sonia Dog doesn't want to come in from the balcony.
The sweetest daughter in the world has signed Fio up for home delivery during the Coronavirus scare. ๐Ÿงก
Fiorella doesn't want Trump out of the White House because he's a Republican (which he isn't), but because he's a horrible person.
Yes, your girl believes in a helter-skelter universe because every time she turns around, a new horror show hurtles into view.
All children deserve the best, not the worst.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Hurry, Hurry, Scurry, Scurry, HALT!

Fiorella is trying to do too much at once, but she doesn't have a choice. The 2019 taxes are hanging over her head, she's trying to write a book, take care of the house, yard, and dog, and, at the same time, pack up all her belongings for when she moves out. Do other widows go through pressure like this?
Your girl has been taking too many CATNnaps during the day lately--maybe to make up for the DOGgone times when she can't fall asleep at night๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜
As if Fiorella's life hasn't already been turned upside down and shaken forcefully in the past year and a half, this stupid coronavirus is forcing her to cut off face-to-face human contact. That means Daughter's visit and Elder Son's visit will have to be postponed. Luckily, Fio has a a lot of things to do and a TV to entertain her, but she does like human contact every now and then.
Dang--now she has no excuse for not pulling the taxes together other than that it is b-o-r-i-n-g....
Just think--in the future, this time will be remembered as "when the world stood still with bated breath."

Friday, March 13, 2020

From the Stomach to the Heart

Fio is thinking that her gastrointestinal problem is more related to the kind of day she's had than to what she has eaten.
How wonderful--Fiorella and Daughter now have a woman-to-woman relationship, or, more exact, a person-to-person relationship.๐Ÿงก
Yesterday was dreary, the weather was muggy, and H-E-B was overflowing with customers, probably stocking up on supplies to sit out the coronavirus scare, while Fio, who had already filled up on supplies two days earlier,  had just stopped in for laundry soap and---well--chocolate. Well indoctrinated, she avoided physical contact and kept her hands on the outside rails of the shopping cart. She's considering getting herself some disposable gloves--not that she has physical contact with very many people, but better safe than sorry.
You've heard this before and you'll hear it again--fate, circumstances, and her conscience are constantly messing up Fio's plans to work on her stories. Translation: she keeps having to take care of family stuff--little things like the 2019 TAXES, PACKING UP TO MOVE, and SUPERVISING IMPROVEMENTS IN THE HOUSE AND YARD.
Good news--Fiorella has had some success in revisiting her Spanish studies, most of which went to pot the day Husband died. Strangely enough, the biggest boost she got was when a Russian-speaking nurse took her blood for a blood thinner check-up.  Somehow, one foreign language awakened another.  LOVE IT!

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Inside News

At various times during the day, Sonia Dog deposits herself on Mommy's lap and stays there until Mommy is finally able to dislodge her, usually by reaching for Sonia's arch-enemy--the computer, which spends far more time in Mommy's lap than Doggie does, but doesn't weigh130 pounds.
The trees were thick with sweet, happy birds this morning, not that Fiorella saw any of them, but she heard them ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก

It's hard to keep a house in top-notch condition when you're tearing it apart. Translation: Fio is trying to move a mountain and doesn't care if dog hair is piled up against the woodwork, the upstairs bathroom is in disarray, and the sinks are dirty. Get off her back!
Guess who would be an hour behind to this very day if Bastrop son hadn't noticed she hadn't changed her wall clock? That's what comes of living in seclusion and not turning on the TV until 10:00 p.m.
To prepare for the worst, Fiorella now has six gallons of milk in her refrigerator and eight boxes of Shredded Wheat in her pantry, along with an extra bag of dog food.  She's also loaded up on salmon. Anything else she'll need if she has to isolate herself (aside from chocolate?)

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Moving Forward with Fiorella

Fiorella drove off to meet with friend Ashley at Starbucks a little before 10:00 and practiced her high register voice as the two of them solved the world's problems, then stood in line at the post office to mail information about Husband to the sons and nephews, then dropped a couple of bags of donations at The Caring Place, then headed back to Target to buy some of those nice gel pens that Husband favored, then drove into the hinterlands to leave a pile of choir and chorus books at the door of a musical friend, then stopped in at St. David's Hospital to get her blood thinner checked (which took way longer than she'd been told it would) then pulled into H-E-B to load up on groceries, then picked up her mail at the top of the driveway and unloaded the car when she arrived home at 4:30.
     And the kids wonder what she does with her time.
Somewhere in the world, there are people who wake up in the morning and say, "What can I do to while away the time today?" Fio wakes up each morning and says, "How can I squeeze an extra hour of two into my day?"
Face it, Fiorella--when you've committed to do fifty million things a day, you can't keep track of them all. On the other hand, that's why libretas amarilla were invented.
For the past year and a half, Fio has been totally centered on her family, sometimes to her own detriment, but now she has to start taking care of herself, which is why she's working on her speaking voice, her stride, her posture, and her future.
Climate change is inevitable, but let's not hasten it along.

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

From Horror to Despair

When it was her parents' turn to hold the bunko party, Fiorella, of course, was exiled to her room to do her homework, so she listened... in horror... and, jotting down their dialogue, wrote one of her best short stories. Would-be writers--if you know how to listen, the stories are all around you.
Fio likes to keep a neat house--a place for everything and everything in its place--but that seems to be impossible when one is also clearing out said house for sale. Translation: it's is a mess.
Whenever Fiorella stops by Target for whatever, she also checks out the children's clothing racks because she's determined that her granddaughter will be dressed in style. It's a thing with grandmothers of girls--grandmothers of boys won't understand.
     Addendum: Both of Fiorella's grandmothers had died by the time she was four, but her mother inherited a Singer sewing machine complete with treadle and could whip up cute dresses out of things like tennis flannels. She could also crochet and embroider for finishing touches. And you wonder where Fio got her artistic talent ๐Ÿงก
Your girl has gone under the knife so many times that it's a wonder she's still alive. Wait a minute--those surgeries are WHY she's still alive.
Fiorella just came in from a two-and-a-half hour drive around lil' ol' Georgetown and is bursting with anger. She had four simple errands on her list: buy sticky notes at Target; check in with her heart doctor's nurse to pick up a standing order for her coumadin finger prick; get a PC power cord at Best Buy so she could find out if Lolly's chapters were still in her old computer; and take a couple of pounds worth of Husband's medications to a pharmacy for disposal.
     She had no trouble buying sticky notes, but the nurse was at lunch so Fio will have to call later, the Best Buy clerk told her she'd have to contact Dell for the cord, and after driving around to two different pharmacies and the police station--where she was told their barrel was full--she threw a mini-fit and said she'd dump it all in her own trash can, which she will.
     And her kids wonder why Mom doesn't get more done!

Monday, March 9, 2020

House, House Hunting, Hello!, Haranguing, Help!

Bastrop Son and his family came over to help with the clearing out of the house yesterday, and we have Husband's study pretty well cleared out. Next will come Fiorella's office--which has a lot more in it than Husband's did--and Fio's arts and crafts cupboards. She's already taken down a couple of layers of the office contents, but the arts and crafts area is virgin territory.
Currently, Son and I are looking for a house that will give her two rooms of her own, plus a bathroom, but prices are really high in central Texas right now. Ideally, of course, we'd like a five roomer. One can dream....
Son was kind enough to help me through some electronics, but the PC charge cord is nowhere to be found. Hello, Best Buy!

Fiorella likes the peace of the Democratic candidates lining up behind one person--except for Bernie and that weird woman. Hoping the sanguininity will continue--would much rather see pics of people's kids and pets than of politicians haranguing each other.
Fio looks back upon her life and shudders at the dumb things she's said and done. Her last words will be "I want a do-over!

Sunday, March 8, 2020

From Toilets to Fireplaces to Vocalization to Politics

Fiorella spent the first half of the day trying to fix the downstairs toilet and the second half working on Lolly's story. Unfortunately, she can't find the original anywhere on her computer so she's having to copy it onto it letter-by-letter and-word-by-word, which takes a long time. Come Wednesday, she'll drive over to la bibioteca denuevo and see if anyone over there can do the job. Otherwise, she'll have to power up her PC again and see if the story was saved there--if she can find the power cord. that is.
About the toilet, neighbor Michael came over and fixed it for Fio, thank goodness. Otherwise, she would have had to call the same plumbers who ended up charging her $800+ for three calls about the same toilet last year.
Fiorella spent a fair amount of time cleaning out the fireplace today too, then spreading the FOUR AND A HALF buckets of ashes in the back yard (otherwise known as the dog yard). Then she brought in some scraggly firewood and tried to start a fire, but the mighty Fio has to turn in her pyromaniac badge--she couldn't get anything going. Oh well, there's always tomorrow, and Fio does have central heat.
Visiting with neighbor Michael made Fiorella realize how crackly her speaking voice has become, and it's not just age, but the fact that she rarely talks with anyone--those few words a day with Sonia Dog don't count. To make it worse, when Fio hears how her once-dulcet voice sounds, she panics, thus further tightening her vocal cords. What she's got to do is speak in her upper register and sing, sing, sing!
The political scene seems to have calmed down since Biden got in the lead for the Democratic nomination, but Fio thinks it's only a lull before the storm. We'll see.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

7 de marzo

Just to show you how weird your Fio is, she, whose family had a TV before anyone else on the double block had one, who would lie on the floor in front of the TV when she did her homework,  who always had her favorite shows, now doesn't turn it on till 10:00 so she can keep up with the news, the weather, and Colbert.
Fiorella does not understand why television people pay pros to redesign and decorate their homes. For Fio, doing it herself is a joy. She got the bug from her mother, of course--a woman who never let a Better Homes and Gardens left untouched.
Hoping Biden will roll us back to the days when the public good was more important than personal gain. Also hoping he can get a good VP in case he doesn't make it through the term. A lot of people are clammaring for a woman in that role, but Fiorella has never supported the idea that a person should be thrust into or barred from office because of his/her sex.
 Fiorella is glad the Democratic debates are over, although she didn't watch them because she doesn't like to see people tearing other people down, especially, if it's about something they said or did years ago. People change as situations change.
Even though Fio disliked the red-meat debates, she thinks the myriad display of so many moving targets was clever protective gear.

Friday, March 6, 2020

Fashion, Politics, Literature

There is so much that Fiorella doesn't care about any more--like jewelry or stylish clothes. She lives in the country, goes out to meet with friends or pick up groceries only about once a week, and the dog doesn't care what she is wearing
     However, being an artist, Fio has a good color sense and, every day, comes up with a new cute outfit based on country-girl slacks/jeans and augmented by the remains of Husband's collection of tee-shirts. During cold weather, of course, she will pull a heavy sweater over her T, and, as you may have guessed, her shoes and socks are always matched up with the rest of her ensemble.
     Yesterday, just for fun, she wore reddish cargo slacks, a bright yellow sweater over a purple tee, then pulled on beige socks and brownish shoes. all of which made her laugh.
     You couldn't miss Fiorella in a crowd of thousands.
Your Fio is very pleased with the way the Democratic primaries have gone so far, and she is especially impressed by the way that, when it became obvious that the majority of the voters favored Biden, the lesser lights conceded gracefully. Most of them are up-and-comers whom, Fio hopes, will show up in cabinet positions, still pushing their own causes, like Student Loan forgiveness and gun control.
     Of course, there are still a few more steps to climb: Bernie and Trump. Fio hopes the former will put country in front of ego and bow out, and that the latter can be overcome, which will mean not only intense campaigning,  but also combating election fraud and fake narratives.
In cleaning out her late Husband's office, Fiorella came upon a little book of poems and observations he'd written. She sent them off to kids and nephews, but kept a few back for herself. Maybe someday she'll put together a book of Husband's poems and her own--sort of like Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
     Yeah--as if she has the time to even get her own stuff out there!

Thursday, March 5, 2020

From Mac to MacDonald's

With bated breath, Fiorella  checked out yesterday's blog to make sure it hadn't been erased like her Tuesday effort had been, but it's still there. WHEW!
      Your girl is becoming more and more adept at using the Mac, thanks to Elder Son and the local library's Wired Wednesday with its bevy of nice people who are up on technology and willing to share.
     Special thanks go to to Ann, Fiorella's helper of the day. Fio's current effort is now double-spaced, has page numbers, and begins a third of the way down the page.
What a day--it was still dark and dripping when Fiorella drove to Austin, where she met up with writing friends Evelyn, and Paula. The thrill of the day with Evelyn, whom Fio meets at McDonald's, was that someone had drawn a picture of male genitalia on the table they usually occupy with what looked like a Sharpie. Hmm....MacDonalds, a Sharpie, desire for a yuge erection. Ring a bell?
     There was also an artistic element in Fiorella's meet up with friend Paula at Starbuk in that Paula showed Fio some of her recent cameo sketches, which are top-notch-- especially since no Sharpies or male genitalia are  involved.
Fio should add that she has nothing against sketches of male genitalia when they are part of an artistic composition, but using a Sharpie to decorate a table at MacDonald's doesn't qualify.

Wednesday, March 4, 2020

Hurry, Hurry, Scurry, Scurry!

FIORELLA IS MAKING PROGRESS WITH THE MAC! She can now find the story she is writing (blue W), choose her preferred font and its size, and SAVE, but she's still having trouble with line spacing--which is why she will be visiting Wired Wednesday in the local biblioteca this afternoon.
Busy girl that she is, your Fio has also cleaned out most of Husband's office. Now she needs one of the guys to look at it and help her figure out what to do with what's left.
Fiorella has quite a social calendar today: Evelyn at 10:00 and Paula at 10:30, then Rachel, her library friend, in the afternoon. This is quite a change from when she goes days without speaking to anyone but Sonia Dog. Hope it doesn't rain (on her parade).
Fiorella is concerned about all of us regarding the Coronavirus, but especially the children in lock-up. Think about it.
Did Fio tell you she had found a tablet of notes that Mother had written about Dad's family, her family, and Fio's and her brother's childhood? What a wonderful legacy--even though Mom put Yours Truly in the wrong role in Baylor Children's Theater's production of Wizard of Oz. Fio was the Good queen of the North, not the wicked Queen of the East (which was a larger and much more interesting role, as played by Forestine Feazer.)

Tuesday, March 3, 2020

Have I read you this sonnet before?

So many know my name, and yet so few
Know me; I'm more and less than what I seem
To be, called friend by many people who
Know me as I know night by chance moonbeam.
Chameleon-like, I change my psychic skin
Depending whom I'm with and what the day,
Unending fitting, never fitting in--
Amending how I look and what I say.
My soul complete, its multiplicity
A whole, but outside, actor-like, I show
The role I choose, or fate assigns to me.
     And as no one can know my entity
     I know no one, but only simile

Monday, March 2, 2020

Make-up Blog

Marzo 2
Correspondence with Joe 
That was supposed to be the title of the blog, and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BECAME OF THIS POST--it was all about making contact with an old high school friend, some of the things that went on in our high school, and our class reunions.  Hmm...WAS I CENSORED?
     No, nothing ever happened at WHS that was censorable, except when two guys ran a flag down the middle of the football field when we were playing an out-of-town team. Fio can't even remember what scurrilus taunt they'd written on it, but it got them suspended for a week.
To calm her nerves about her blog disappearing into thin air, Fiorella grabbed a chocolate bunny which--uh--just happened to be in her refrigerator and start munching on it, then poured herself a cup of milk, then sat the cup down on the counter--but the counter wasn't there, and the full cup splatted to the floor like a Fourth-of-July rocket. Sonia, always helpful, rushed over to lick all this unexpected bounty up, contending with Fio, who had started madly swabbing the floor with paper towels. We tied.
It's scary when things start going wrong for you. Fiorella was almost afraid to pick up the computer and report her drama because she was afraid that then something else would happen to her--like tripping over Doggie and breaking her knee--or landing on the side of her face again. But what the heck--testing fate is Fio's middle name.
So here you are with a new blog. Now, let's see if this time, Fiorella can post it without incident.

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Transportation, Writing, House, Doggie, Fire

And Fiorella thinks she has problems--her sweet donella 's car slid on the ice during central Texas's recent cold snap and is now undriveable. You can bet that Fio, who is heavily involved with dealerships right now, will be looking around for a good bargain for her.
Things are looking up for Fio's writing career. She seems to have at last stumbled upon how to use Apple SAVE, although she still doesn't know how to command a PRINT.
     She's also figured out how to adjust Lolly's story, which she wrote five years ago, to today's world. Be on the look-out.
Fiorella is moving steadily forward forward in regard to clearing out the house. She's been emptying drawers like crazy lately, which means a lot of items are sitting on her kitchen island for either her kids to claim or The Caring Place to profit from.
     One of the most charming items is a collection of Scottish songbooks and dances, which Fio hopes will find a loving home. Any takers? OOPS--Bastrop son just made a bid.
Now that Fiorella has a four-door car again, she can take Sonia Dog to the veterinarian for her yearly check up and shots, but she hopes it won't be the same kind of hassle she had last year when Doggie, recognizing where she was, refused to get out of the car.
     The assistants, all fragile young women, are afraid of sweet Sonia. Aren't they at all educated about different types of canines? Mastiffs bark like crazy, but do not bite.
Every time Fiorella thinks she's made her last fire for the season, the weather turns and she has to haul in lena again, partially because she's chintzy and doesn't want to turn on the heat, and partially because the pyromaniac in her likes to watch a fire.๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ