Uh, the glamorous life of a romance writer is overblown. Fiorella is currently trying to separate Lolly's twelve chapters with folded Kleenexes because she didn't do so when writing.
Your girl watched a wonderful TV show about the history of native Americans, then gathered together some photographs and items that she thought Minnesota son would enjoy seeing again and prepared them for mailing, then worked with one of her therapists, then gathered together her many versions of Lolly's story as she waited for Daughter to come pick her up for a visit. Ah, for the days when Fio was driving.
Like it usually does at this time of year, the weather has turned, and Fiorella has had to drag a couple of long-sleeved shirts out of the back of her closet, which means she'd better get going on her plan for renovating that rabbit hole.
Son L and Fiorella are planning to make a trip to Pflugerville this weekend and will probably hire a team to help them--that piano can't walk back to Austin on its own. (Any volunteers?)
Hey, this is great--your girl will be getting yet another nurse tomorrow to check her out. All in all, it's quite impressive how the local medical establishment has adjusted to the Time of Covid.
Everything is part of me/ And I am part of immortality....
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