BOOO! Halloween is fast upon us, and there isn't a speck of black or orange paper in the house. Fio's banking on a cache in the attic (which only Son L can navigate), but if we wait much longer, your girl will have to climb the ladder herself. Of course, we could buy out a store or two, but what fun is that?
Hmm....the neurology clinic that your girl patronizes has called her two two days in a row, but when Fiorella answers her phone, all she gets is a series of dings. Do they know something she doesn't?
Now that Fio has acrylics and brushes again, she thought she'd be using them in painting pictures of her new countryside and its inhabitants, but the only thing she's ended up working on to date is a picture of her childhood home in Ohio that was finished long ago--or rather it used to be finished. The newspaper that Fiorella wrapped it in for transit wasn't enough protection and now she has to concentrate on restoring the house's previous glow.
Dang! Fio just bumped into the painting she had done many years ago of Husband as a child and broke the frame her father-in-law had made for it. Yep, your girl hasn't had any luck with paintings today!
It looks like Fiorella's new glasses are gone with the wind. Luckily, she has another pair, and although they're ancient, they've been loyal to her for years. (The basic problem is that your girl's sight is so weird that she takes her specs on and off fifty times a day to compensate.)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment