Problems

 Apparently, Fiorella has a talent for dislocating scissors. While cutting open the pile of her boxes--which have taken over the garage--she has managed to lose both her black pair and the one with the green handles. Pray for her.

At times, Fio grows tired of reality and needs to retreats into her own fairylands--art, music, languages, and reading/writing. Unfortunately, she has not been able to indulge in any of those pastimes lately, but that early morning walk around the neighborhood was refreshing. (And her newspaper arrived.)

Son L and Fiorella walked up to the community mail box while Granddaughter drove her little car at top-notch speed. It's sort of a turn-around from when, as a child, your girl would walk a couple of blocks over to mail her letters, but her father would drop off any other mail on his way to work.

Bracing herself, Fio has made a list of the Austin doctors she needs to consult. Thank goodness she remembers their names--or Son L does. 

Your girl must have screwed up somehow because the special dog food that she thought Sonia Dog's vet was going to send hasn't arrived yet. Sigh--yet another phone call she has to make.