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.