From Passing Whine to Passing Time

With excruciating clarity, Fiorella can remember every stupid, thoughtless, and mean thing she's ever said or done in her life. Why can't she remember better times just as clearly? Surely, Fio had some good days.
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Searching the garage yet again, your girl finally found a clipper that she can use to cut down the greenbrier climbing los arboles--which reminds her that she never did get around to writing a country-western song about the venomous vine. She'd hoped Older Son, who plays the guitar, could help her with the chords, but she won't be seeing him again until the dang virus subsides.
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Whoopee! The yardman and his son have arrived, which means that all of Fiorella's bricks will be moved to the back yard this afternoon in preparation for el vecinos' instructions for how to build the long-awaited walkway. And yes, this is the same neighbor (and his wife) who brought a treat over to Fio for Mother's Day.  
     Be at peace, Fiorella. You may have not always have been the sort of person you wanted to be, but you have been blessed with a good yardman and good neighbors.
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 HOW ABOUT THIS FOR A CLIP FROM ONE OF FIO's AS-YET-TO-BE-PUBLISHED WORKS?
     Then, like a mild-mannered Clark Kent transforming into the man of steel, her gentlemanly date tore off his tie and stuffed it in his pants pocket, rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and strode in the direction of a large flatbed truck parked by a towering mountain of mulch.
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Fio, who writes down everything, found this note while rummaging through her old collections: My seven year old and I have different tastes. I want her to dress like Alice in Wonderland, and she wants to dress like Cyndi Lauper.