Fiorella is sad. She and Friend met in a women's chorus forty years ago and
stayed friends for a long time--carpooling their kids to school together,
sympathizing with each other, exchanging juicy confidences, and cheering each
other on, but when Fio opened up Facebook yesterday evening, she
discovered that Friend had attacked her at length on a very personal level
because your girl opposes Donald Trump's bid for a second term.
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On the sunny side, Daughter will be visiting this weekend and maybe she can
figure out how to convince Blogger to let Fiorella indent as a way of
indicating the start of a new paragraph. Fio would also like to know how to
use an asterisk to indicate she's on a new topic.
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Sonia Dog spent most of her afternoon yelping at Fio to come downstairs--Doggie does not approve of the amount of time that Mommy is spending cleaning on the various edges of the master bathroom to get the house ready to sell. To tell the truth, Fiorella would rather be downstairs herself, maybe putting her nudes, which she recently rediscovered, into an art book.
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This long hair thing is getting to be a drag (😄), but with Covid/Coronavirus/The Virus prowling the countryside, there's no way your girl is going to pop over to Austin to get her hair cut. She'll probably end up with braids, like she had when she was in elementary school.
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