Sorry about yesterday, but sometimes Fio gets very low. Here she is, stuck in an unending pandemic in which she has to carefully regulate where she goes and with whom. Then there's the unpacking that's still left to do and the family relationships to be mended. Oh, and by he way, we're now under a "boil water" mandate in Austin.
The only good news so far today is that Fiorella is rid of whatever it was that made her computer give her a bad time with capitalizing yesterday. Hmm...some of her other keys have been acting up a little too so maybe she should take said unnamed computer in for service. But where?
Another thing that drives Fio crazy about the Covid is that she rarely gets to food shop herself, but has to give her list to Son L, who calls it in. The pick-up is usually with her in the passenger seat, which is nice, but she can't add anything in by then. (She really likes it the rare times she's gotten to go into the store--masked, of course--and and could look at everything as well as everyone.)
There's nothing like anger to fire up your girl's brain, and and sort the through the momentous pile of Christmas songs and poems she's written, she's decided to gather them all into a booklet for the holiday this coming year, and maybe even add in something new!
Your girl has always written her poems and songs because (1) it was her nature and (2) she hoped her talents would be recognized somewhere along the line--which hasn't happened yet, dang it!
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