From the Doctor's Office to Painting at Home

 Lots of stuff going on right now--Fiorella took a Chariot ride to the doctor's office for about an hour of checking things out, getting shot, and waiting, waiting waiting. Then, she came home, finished rearranging her room, and talked to her brother on the phone for a fairly long time, laughing all the while--yes, he has the same warped sense of humor that your girl has, so they were really rockin'.😛

Later, the lawnmowers came, and--at last, they trim med the bushes in front of the house. That should be a nice welcome home when Son L and his wife return from their cruise. 😊

It must have been boiler-room heaven today because Fiorella 's phone was ringing every other minute and, yes, she finally screamed at one of the solicitors. Hmm...she didn't get any more unwanted calls. Maybe she should do that the next time around too.

OOPS! Fio was so excited about her heart doctor setting up an appointment for her to get her thumb and finger fixed that she forgot to ask him whom she should contact to take care of her ever-flowing nose. Just think--if she can get her fingers in shape to play the piano and her nose to stop its overproduction, she'll be very, very happy. Maybe then she can give more attention to her studio, which still needs more finishing up. And what comes after that, you ask? Well, how about your girl AT LAST finishing off her Lolly story?

Actually, Fio would like to take up her art again too, so she may be moving back and forth between paints and prints. Whatever....things will work out. 😋

 

 

THINKING THINGS OVER

 Fiorella is still unhappy. In addition to the burning feeling on her left thumb and first finger (poison ivy?), she woke up with a bad stomach, which took a couple of hours to calm down. Then came the urgent calls from the boiler rooms. Next came the realization that, because she couldn't find the thermostat, the only way she could cool down the house was by swinging the front door wide, then doing the same to the back door. Of course, the wind slammed the back door with a magnificent WHAM that could be heard all around the neighborhood, but no one's said anything to your girl yet. 

All of this maneuvering inspired Fio to rework her overloaded chest of drawers, and she did a really good job of it if she has to say so herself. Actually, her whole bedroom has been shaping up fairly well. The next thing she's going to tackle is her clothes basket, which she'll have to maneuver to fit into the long chest at the foot of her bed. And if you're wondering, yes, this is the same chest Fio re-made from a stand-up chest years ago when she moved into her former home. Your girl is nothing if not thrifty.

Luckily, Fiorella was able to snag her favorite maid from her Georgetown days to stay with her overnight while Son L and his wife are off on a cruise. We watched some Spanish-language TV together yesterday, and Fio's hoping we'll find some more to watch more this evening. The dramas are the ones that help your girl the most because everything gets acted out.

As you remember, as soon as Son and his wife get back home, Fio plans to call in Task Rabbit to repair her bed and renovate that ridiculous clothes closet that she's always complaining about. Hmm...maybe she can ask them about the possibilities of removing the wainscotting to make room for the chests beside her bed to face forward rather than sideways. OMG! I'M JUST LIKE MY MOTHER!

On the side, I don't care at all about silliness at the Oscars, but I do care about getting a well-qualified person on the Supreme Court.

 

FINGERS!

 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, SAY IT AIN'T SO!

But is is--Fiorella has some kind of finger infection and she can't play the piano. It's not too comfortable typing out her blog either. The worst part of it is that she has no idea how to treat it or what kind of doctor to go to.😠

At first, she thought it was caused by her bedcovers because it just affected her on the left side, the side she sleeps on, so she stripped the bed and ran everything through the washer. Then she started reading up on "hot fingers," which open up plethora of possibilities. Now she's panicking--she never realized how important her fingers were before. 

That's all your girl has to say except please send healing thoughts toward her fingers!

 As you know, Fiorella has been reteaching herself piano by going through her aged second-grade John Thompson book. You'll also remember that she's been satisfied with her progress enough to play around with purchasing the third grade book. Then she encountered F Flat.  Maybe her computer, which knows all, can save the day. 😢

Something's wrong with the air in the house now that granddaughter (who is staying with her other grandmother this week) isn't opening and closing the doors all the time so Fio has taken it upon herself to do the job--and not only does it help the air circulation, but your girl gets a kick out of it.😁

Haven't heard anything yet from Son and his wife, who are on a one-week cruise, which must mean they're having a great time.  Fiorella wishes them well, but will confess she herself is a scaredy cat at home and away, so she's hired her former maid--who can handle ANYTHING--to keep her company at night when the shadows are deep and the floorboards squeak. 😊

Have you tried those little cans of Coke? Son L brought a pack of them home for Fio to try out, and they're fabulous for someone like her, who currently has a head cold that won't stop.😑

AAAAAAND, what does one do when her family is out on a cruise? Well, in Fiorella's case, she chomps chocolate and continues to work through the stacks of paper that have grown through the years even back to her college days. (Okay, she also admonishes her younger self for refusing a job with the Linguistics Department the minute she graduated. Why? Because she was tired of school and wanted to actually see the world rather than teach about it.)

 

 

 

Wondering.....

Son and his family are away for the day and Fiorella is in the house all alone. What should she do? WICKED LAUGHTER PREVAILS--😃😃😄😃😄😆😃😔😫

Fio got in two piano practices today, but Fio still can't get up the gumption to try to play that piece with four flats...although she is toying with the idea of buying Thompson's third book in his series. It's red.....

The only person in the neighborhood whom your girl has made friends with is about her age and a former teacher just like Fio, but your girl hasn't mentioned that she taught on the college level--that can scare people off.

Wondering if, now that Fiorella is a widow, she'll ever remarry--not that there are any takers in sight. Men die out quicker than women.

It's hard to be the third wheel in a household.

 

DOES ANYONE HAVE A SUCRET?

Okay, 'fess up! Who gave Fiorella this cold--the old-fashioned kind, complete with honks, coughs, unending mucous, and unrelenting sleepiness, sleepiness, sleepiness? The culprit was probably her five-year-old granddaughter--she's the right age for it, but it wasn't intentional so your girl will have to forgive her....

The only nice part of the scenario is that the relentless telephone salesmen hang up pretty quickly when the scratchy voice Fio's cold has endowed her with tells them she's sick and doesn't want to talk to anybody. It's like they think she can infect them through the telephone wire.

Speaking of the scratchy voice, does anyone out there have a Sucret that can sooth Fiorella's burning throat? Apparently this household is devoid.

Hoping you can make sense out of everything Fiorella's saying. The cold has also given her a grogginess that makes it hard for her to proofread.

This is totally off the subject, but watching the morning news, your girl saw so many good people banding together and doing good things for other people in need. Then, there are people like Vladimer Putin. One can't help but wonder about what kind of upbringing he had....

 

From Swimming to Domains to Piano to Blood to Coka Cola--(not all at once)

 Fio's mother grew up near a river, but never learned how to swim, so she wanted to make sure her daughter did. Thus we rode a city bus to the Akron YWCA once a week and your girl paddled her heart out--but the lessons stopped when we moved to Waco, which had no such luxuries until a couple of years later, and when Waco's YWCA did finally came into being, you can bet that Mrs. Paule talked with Mom and signed your girl up for swimming lessons along with all the Jewish girls. Happy memories.

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Oh, great--your girl's computer is acting up again and tossing it around isn't working the miracles it did before. To make it worse, the family's chief computer master has left town for a couple of days. 😠

 The good news is that Fiorella has taken care of all of her domain problems in one mighty blow, which means she doesn't have to wrestle with that tangle for a year--or is that two years? 

You see the problem here; Fio is as much of an idiot with her domains as as she is anything else having to do with anything else electronic. (For example, that semi-colon above is supposed to be a colon, but the machine has decided otherwise--and so has the period>)

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Did Fiorella tell you that she actually got a start on the four-flat piano piece? Wish her luck!

By the way, does anyone play the piano anymore besides Fio?

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Tomorrow is your girl's last visit to the blood people--the ones who've been monitoring her for a couple of months so she'd be prepared for the pacemaker--which mean she won't have to call on Cheriot for rides to the doctor's office as much as before. Maybe now Fio will be able to use Chariot as a way to reach out to people she knew when she lived in Austin, lo, these many years ago.

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Fio is in love with those small Coka-Cola cans!  She doesn't like to swig down a normal-sized one---it leaves her a little burpy, but the smaller ones are just right--for her, at least. (The computer doesn't like her making up a new adjective--"burpy,"--but your girl stands by it, and remember, she's a bona-fide linguist!)

  

From Putin to Fio to Putin Again.

 Interesting how Putin's attack on Ukraine is backfiring in Russia as well as across the world. But then, he's an elected president who's acting like a king, and kings have been known to topple from the top before....especially when their subjects are being killed left and right to inflate their overlord's ego.

Fio has a head cold, probably contracted from whomever put together her hamburger yesterday afternoon when she and Son L went out to do a few errands. Honk, honk!

Nothing particular to say. Fiorella just wanted to see what this font looked like.   Hmmm....this opens up a whole new world of opportunities for Fiorella, like this, and this, and this.... 

In the meantime, your girl has reassembled all four of the words in the newspaper Jumble: MONEY, TEASE, INDICT, PROPER. Applause, please!

Wish you could see what Fio has done working without stop on her studio--only four boxes to go and it's actually habitable now. You know her technique--she sits in a chair and stares at whatever mess needs the most attention, then dives in. Her mother would be proud.

Strangely, the longer the distance Fiorella's mother is from Fio in death, the more your girl talks about her in life. Hmm...maybe an attempt to make her eternal, AS SHE SHOULD BE!

All this crying Fio's been doing lately--but the world is crying too. Putin's antics could destroy us all--Russia included.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memories and Warnings

 Mom, who'd lived all her life in Ohio, had a hard time adjusting when Dad's company moved him to Texas and was always comparing Texas to Ohio in a negative way so Fio, of course, did the same. which she didn't realize, was why she didn't have many friends at school. Her awakening came when, in her first year of junior high, raised her hand, and remarked about how Ohio did something or other better than Texas did and her mild-mannered teacher paused, looked at her and said,  "Fiorella, not everything is better in Ohio." 

Instantly realizing what an ass she had been making of herself all semester, Fio burst into tears and put her head down on her desk for the rest of the class--but she survived and learned a good lesson that she never forgot it.

Actually, Fiorella has done or said so many things in her life that she regrets--and unfortunately, she remembers every one of them with crystal clarity. Shudder....

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It's almost April, the dandelions are in full bloom, the sun is shining, occasional raindrops have dampened Fiorella's shoulders, and the mischievous wind has lifted her straw hat and carried it a few feet into the air before she could catch up with it.😊

OMG, we just had a tornado warning--a scary thing to someone who grew up in Waco, where far too many people ignored the long hoot because supposedly the local Indians had long ago said the Bosque River was safe from such. (The death toll was 114, and that included one of Fio's friends

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What do you think of this new way for Fio to tell her stories? She wandered into it accidentally and likes the way it can let her stay on the same subject, yet divide it into meaningful segments. If only the divisions weren't so distant......

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Do you like the way Fiorella is dividing her background? It allows her to have more than one paragraph about a single item, like she did in the first two paragraphs

Please Save This Page and Refer Fio to It When She Gets Low----

Going through all the papers she's saved, Fiorella is learning a lot about her former self. Like that she studied not only Latin (5 years) and Russian (two years), but also German (one semester) French (six weeks and she passed the exam), Telugu, Hindi, a bit of Mandarin, and Spanish--not one of which she could handle today.

Her list also said was published in poetry, short story, and hard cover, taught piano and voice on the side, and had won several teaching awards, all of which, with current events being so overwhelming, she had forgotten.vet.

If you want to have an example of how your girl recorded EVERYTHING back then (and now), here it is, written on the back of a student recital handout. "During his brief one and a half year with Husband and me, Albert  captured every corner of our hearts as we watched him grow from a tiny, squeaking black ball of fluff to a full-grown adult guinea pig, majestic and proud. He had learned to beg for food and not wet on people's lap, and that a resounding NO meant to stop what he was doing. Then one day, he fell ill and nothing we could do helped him so we lifted him into a big woven basket, lined it with soft towels, and took him off to the vet, who seemed nonplussed by such a tiny patient. That's when we learned that guinea pigs are usually treated as heard animals and no one knew anything about them as individuals--but because Albert's welfare was obviously so important to us, the vet pumped our darling full of antibiotics and appetite stimulants. Sad to say, Albert died the next day, but we felt he had made a lasting impression on on the world because there, on his bill, for "breed of animal," the vet had written "ALBERT." Yes, our Albert was one of a kind.

Here's a cute story to wipe away your tears--Years ago, when our oldest was just four years old, he revealed our family's shopping habits to the whole church when he solemnly petitioned God to "Give us this day our day-old bread."😁

Normalcy Again?

 Fio's thinking that even if she were the only one in the world with a head cold, it would still be enough to keep Kleenex Inc. afloat. Yes, she's got it that bad--a sneeze every other minute and plenty of snorts in between.

Fiorella will admit that she went downhill after the flaming stomach episode. It's scary when you've been talking since babyhood and suddenly your throat won't let you utter anything louder than a whisper and, to make it even more frightening, no one seems to care.  But since no help was on hand, your girl decided to cling to her somewhat dimming belief in herself and after a day of brooding, steeled herself, moved forward, and pasted back together the tired box of a set of books she hopes to sell.

Another hiccup--that little red toolbox that Fiorella brought with her from all her former homes has disappeared.

Fio is going to retire to her piano now, but as she thinks she told you, she's got a problem there too. The thumb of her left hand has been injured in and she has to wrap a band-aid round it in order to play.

Anyone who's invested in Kleenex is making a fortune off Fiorella. Your girl can't wait till her knee operation is over and she can seek out a doctor who can fix that constantly runny nose she's always complaining about.

 

 

 

Remember the Good Old Days?

 No, Fiorella didn't get taken to the Emergency Room, and although she's still not recovered, she's doing better. Her stomach settled by mid-afternoon, but her voice is still frail--which Son L still attributes to her supposedly not drinking enough water.

Just came across a page Fiorella wrote years ago about where she got her personality. Her constant action, of course, comes from her father, who was always at work or at play--golf, bowling, tennis, even a little baseball--and his reading material reflects the same preference: western paperbacks. His actions, though, did not include working on the house and garden unless Mom prodded him so except for the roof, she took care of the looks of not only the outside of the house, but also, of the inside. She had "the eye," and what she didn't know, Better Homes and Gardens informed her of.

 Fio, of course, was quite willing to follow in both of her parents' paths--constant action and tending to the house. She even designed her and Husband's last home, the one in the middle of a forest--and she's doing her best to put her stamp on her current residence too--or, at least, her rooms.

 Hey, should Fiorella say that neither of her parents, like their daughter, would have prospered in the sit-still technological world of today? Both of them, especially Dad, were people people, and it's hard to set up a friendship with a computer.

Changing the subject, Fiorella has finally come across the sketch book she took a notes on during last year's snowstorm, the one in which she almost kicked the bucket.

Threatening Situation

 Your girl is, as of this moment, voiceless. She woke up in the early morning--maybe about three--with her throat and stomach flaming, and the only thing she could think of doing with dousing it with her favorite beverage--milk--but immediately afterwords, she wondered if she had just fanned the flame. What to do? Her head was totally rattled. She didn't want to wake anyone up, but what if she died if she didn't?

Nothing to do but get dressed, breathe through her open mouth, and wander around the dark, silent house  pondering what her next move would be. Should she awaken someone for help? Should she drink more milk? Was it that 10mg Melatonin pill that was ravaging her mouth? Would she live to tell the story?

Granddaughter woke up about six and greeted Fio, who smiled back as if everything was all right and whispered back her greetings, then wrote out a note on the back of an envelope for when her daughter-in-law got up that explained her situation: Can't talk, call Daughter to drive me to the emergency room.  

Then, Fiorella waited........

Thank the Good God that by the time Daughter called back, the fire in your girl's mouth was burning out and she was able to whisper what had happened--and also reassure her offspring that Mom wasn't going to kick the bucket this time around after all. 

Now Fio is nervous about what sort of damage has been done to her throat just when she's been trying to sing again, and she's wondering if her speaking voice also has taken a permanent hit. Ah, for the days when Fiorella had a voice that could handle everything from Boys' Debate to first soprano.

Er...don't count on this exciting a story every time you tune in. Fiorella is d-r-a-i-n-e-d....

From Song to Elephant

           Supply your own melody--

All alone, by the telephone, waiting for a call, 

Hoping I can talk with anyone, anyone at all at all--

Sweep and sweat, what do your get--

Naught but a seven foot wall

    

Fiorella wrote the above ditty in the dark of night when everything seemed to be turned against her, but, oh, how quickly things changed when she finally made contact with her former, wonderfully loyal maid of yore and was able to hire her for for the evenings her son and his wife would be gone. Yahoo!

There are so many things that only your girl can handle, like taking care of her cabinet shelving, sorting out family photos, rearranging her chest of drawers, etc., and then there are the things she WANTS to do--like play the piano, sew closed the tears in the lovely crocheted blanket at the foot of her bed, study languages, write-write-write, paint-paint-paint, etc. Guess which list her over-active conscience makes her choose?

Interesting. Fiorella's computer has a habit of messing up its shift and caps lock every now and then, but the second time around, Fio got angry and accidentally dropped it on the floor. WOW--somehow the problem was solved, so when Cuty-Pie tried the same trick on your girl again, she dropped it again, but this time....purposefully.😡😡

Your girl said something clever about an elephant, then lost it somehow, so Good Night😌

For some reason that Fio can't account for, she's been thinking of elephants the whole time she's been writing this blog.😕

 

From Feet to Heart to Heart

Fiorella is quite pleased with herself and her ingenuity. The soles of her feet had started aching in the middle of the night so she got out of bed and wandered around her end of the house, scouting out something she could rig up to soak her tootsies in. Her normal first choice would have been the bath tub, but her granddaughter, with whom she shares a bathroom, had informed her a while back that the tub "is broken," and your girl certainly wasn't going to test it out in the middle of the night, so all she could do was scout around her end of the house for something that would hold water--hot water.                                 The first thing that caught Fio's eye, Granddaughter's spongy step-stool turned upside down, wouldn't be deep enough, and her second choice, the waste-paper basket sitting next to her bed was too tall, but the plastic waste-paper basket in her studio was just right--after your girl used a paper cup to ladle hot water into it. Then came the ultimate test--putting her feet in and out, one foot at a time, into the hot water Fio had gotten from the faucet.  AAAAAAAAH--heaven!

Your girl's heart doctor has given her her a green light for another eight to ten years before her pacemaker has to be changed out again, so WHOOPEE! 

Upward, ever upward--now to get that knee of Fio's replaced, the one she tried to crack a branch on for the fireplace at the old house. And after that, as she's said, will come a visit to a doctor who can cure her ever-running nasal passages. Hmm...wonder if a little plastic surgery could be in the offing too😁

Fiorella just had a very nice telephone call from Daughter, which warmed her heart💗

 

 

The Latest News from Fio's Viewpoint

 This is going to be a GREAT day! Fiorella put together all four of the newspaper Jumble letters in less than three minutes--they just sprang out at her! 

More good news: your girl's brain worked overtime while she slept and not only came up with a way to use the space in her crowded bureau better, but also worked out a possible plan for companionship while Son L and his wife are off on vacation this spring.

Fio has had five phone calls this morning from boiler rooms concerned about her Medicare status and three more calls offering to help her with her funeral plans. Hmm--do they know something she doesn't know? 

 You would have been proud of your girl if you'd heard her rattling up and down the keyboard today. Not that she's gotten any further than a third of the way through Thompson's book, but she's improving every day. Finger memory is the key.

 About the Jumble triumph--maybe Fiorella's new pacemaker has given her brain a little extra shove. If so, sign her up for another trip to the operating room when her date comes around again.

What about the Russians taking down some of Fox's people? Guess Americans all look alike to them.

Explanations

 Yesterday ended up well, with a phone call from the blood people assuring your girl that her platelets (or whatever) were right-on and that she was taking the correct pills at the correct times. So, with good news like that, what did Fio want to do but celebrate with a nice lunch--a sandwich from her mini-fridge--but, unfortunately, her milk bottle had leaked down on her loaf of bread and all she had left were the potato chips she'd stationed on top of the fridge. Crunch, crunch, crunch....

Hooray, hooray! Brother just called and he and Fiorella stayed on the phone for about half an hour, which was great practice for Fio since she lives in an unusually quiet house. In case you don't remember, the more people talk with your girl, the better-- it helps her get accustomed to conversational exchanges again. 

Hey, hey, hey--after a really bad piano practice yesterday, Fio is happy to announce that she had a rather good one today and has moved on to Carry Me Back to Old Virginny, which is quite a challenge.

Just a note in passing: Fiorella, who is not in the least technological and is accustomed to turning all such endeavors over to a husband, moved her bedside clock up an hour this morning ALL BY HERSELF! 😁

 

I live 'tween anger and sorrow--

The first for today, the next for tomorrow 

No more to say, no need to borrow

 

 

Dissatisfaction

 Fiorella is going through all her old papers, some of which even date back to junior high, and is flabbergasted by how much she wrote--and saved. To tell the truth, her observations were pretty damn good too. But--ho hum--she got some minor recognition back then and along the way, but never made the big time, which has always been the story of her life. Damn--somewhere along the line, she needed a wild-eyed fan who had connections and could ballyhoo her. GRRRRRR!

 

 ANGER

I'd like to burn a building down

Or shoot somebody from a tower

To let them know that I'm alive

For just an hour--ah, for just one hour

 

Fio has a chocolate hangover. Yesterday evening, she got upset and gulped down a whole bag of Dove milk chocolate, then paid for it all night long.

This may be a difficult day--your girl has to beard a couple of doctors' assistants because (1) she's pretty much certain they've messed up what days and times she should come in to get her new pacemaker checked up on and (2) they seem to have forgotten that Fiorella has told them that it's impossible for her to stick a needle into herself (or anyone else).

One good thing about waking up early with a bad stomach is that Fio has plenty of "alone time" to mull over the life choices she's made. Oops--scratch that. Not all of those "life choices" were good ideas and it would make her cry her to revisit them.

Wondering how many people are reading Fiorella every day now, or if she's just writing a diary to herself. Ah, for times past when her audience--usually in the 200s to 300s--was counted and displayed. Interestingly enough, her followers were mostly from overseas, which intrigued your girl all the more. 

As a final note, Fio reminds you that before stupid Blogger forced your girl into its "new and better" edition, she could write out her poems without having to double space.

 

 

An Apology and a Peace Offering

Fiorella apologizes to musician everywhere. Her afternoon piano practice was  AWFUL! She was missing sharps and flats, using the wrong fingers, reading the score wrong, and blanking out from time to time. Oh, well--there's always tomorrow--hopefully....

Maybe the above was because your girl was going through her filing cabinets, trying to remember and label their contents and, of course, at the same time, beating herself mentally for not having done it earlier.

But, to smooth things over, how about you read this poem, which is quite instructional--another sonnet, of course.

 

 

 

                                              The "Sonnet" Sonnet

A sonnet is the clever use of rhyme

In patterns such as Petrarch might employ

Or Shakespeare's playful whimsy intertwine

For centuries of lovers to enjoy.

A sonnet is an unrelenting beat, 

The blood's intrinsic pulse of weak and strong,

That runs full-tilt for five iambic feet

In three times four plus two, a discipline of song.

A sonnet is a message of the heart

Of Wordsworth's wonder, Milton's heavy hand,

Or Keats's classic skill, of Shelley's art,

Of Browning's love songs from a foreign land.

While others seek the chessboard on a day,

The sonnet is my choice of game to play.

 

Finding Lost Treasures

 What the heck is going on? After announcing that the American Statesman would no longer-print the Saturday edition, Fiorella is still getting it thrown on her front lawn. She prefers paper, of course, but it's weird that the powers that the powers-that-be haven't followed through with their threat.

Going through her file drawers, Fio found a little booklet from her father's high school reunion in Osceola Mills, Pennsylvania, and, of course, she cried. Then, further on, she found his Last Will and Testament and cried again😢

How old is Fiorella? Your girl has been going through old papers and discovered that she'd been commenting one way or another since at least 1985!

Fio just found one of her old poems, and it touched her heart. hHpe it will touch yours too. It's titled "Love Endures"💗

How long lasts love? Past tomorrow's dawn?

Past hurt and anger, betrayal, desertion, death?

This weakness of the heart--will it be strong

Enough to last the years, yet be weak yet?  

  Love ripens in the lusty sun of youth

And is consumed, but blossoms ever-sweet

To be the springtime baby's first-spooned fruit--

The sustenance of summer, winter's treat.

  The music of the song survives the singer

And echoes of itself divinity

 Thus Love and Beauty, Truth and Courage linger

Long past their actors in eternity--

  How long lasts love? My love is yours

As long as Love endures--yes, love endures.

The Good and the Stupid

 OMG! Fio can feel ouija swirling around her! Everything is going to be all right! As she reported, Dr. Michel put some magic needle into her bad knee and it's WORKING AGAIN and, to top it off, he'll be putting a new knee in her leg the next time around.

The good doctor also complemented her on her voice--she'd been humming and singing lightly while she waited for him to get around to her because (1) she was bored, and (2) she's trying to get said voice back--the one that was stolen from her by a throat condition and exacerbated by the series of traumas. Not all of it will return, or course, but she'll settle. The key is to stay in her top register 😉

Now your girl has to find someone to stay with her overnight while Son L and his wife are off on a short vacation. Fio doesn't like being alone and, because of Covid, she also doesn't know many people in the new neighborhood, which means she'll probably have to hire somebody to keep her entertained which--come to think of it--could be a lot of fun!😃

Hey, hey--Going through the wastebasket in her studio and the one in her bedroom, Fiorella located not only the phone that had been wailing at her feebly for the last couple of days, but also her second-best missing eye glasses. Her best glasses--the ones that still have both wings--are still missing--probably behind her bedstead--but Son L is dealing with so many other things right now that she's holding off on asking him to move her heavy bed.

Confession: Fio grew up thinking that if she just did her best work possible in music, art, languages, and writing, then modestly step back, she'd be recognized and lauded for her accomplishments and the rest of her life would be roses, but, except for being awarded a PhD in linguistics, such never happened--and it was her own fault. The linguistics department offered her a job after graduation but she stupidly refused because she was tired of school and wanted to  travel around the world and USE her languages--all of which are now in decay. 😞

 

Putin, Orthopedist, Voice, Happiness

Why, why, why can't people be kind to each other, take care of each other, love each other? Are meanness and aggrandizement build into of our genetic code? Putin's war has no reason for being!

Okay, Fio will admit it--she's spent the last hour-and-a-half turning out even more of Ukraine's favorite flower and taping them to the panes of her front window. This batch was easier than yesterday's, though, because your girl had already noted what was unnecessary and thus was able to to bump up the number of flowers she could put out at a time.

Next on Fiorella's schedule was a visit to her favorite orthopedist so he could look at her bum knee--yes, the same knee she tried to break a branch over when she lived in the wilderness.

Fiorella got bored while she was in the waiting cubicle and practiced a little singing. After all, if her heart and knee could be repaired, maybe her voice could too.

HIP, HIP, HOORAY--Dr. Michel not only ran a needle full of soothing nectar into your girl's left knee, but set up a probable date for the procedure. (He also said she had a lovely voice.)💗

                                                 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

 

All Things Considered....

 As it turned out, Fiorella shouldn't have (accidentally) skipped her second visit to the doctor because to make up for it, she had to gulp down three power pills today and will have to take two more tomorrow. Wish her well.

In the meantime, your girl has been cleaning out more of her file cabinets. It's amazing how much paper one person can accumulate during her lifetime--and there's still more to come. Yep, Fio must have been born with a pen in her hand and an overactive brain.

By the way, out that Son L has inherited his mother's reluctance to sticking himself or anyone else with a needle. And here Fiorella though she was the only one in the world....

ANGER! Exactly what sort of sucker has Fio been tagged as? Her phone has been ringing all day and she's getting tired of picking it up, then clicking off when she hears the boiler room background.

Okay, your girl admits that her ego jumped to the moon when she found her old teaching evaluations tucked back in a long-forgotten file. A+ all the way!!!

You would laugh if you could see Fiorella right now. She's half-lying on her bed with the computer half-in her lap and her bed half-covered with stray pages from from a long-forgotten romance that never got published. There are also a few pages from a local magazine Fio tried to start up called Suburban Notebook. Needless to say, it didn't get off the ground either. Yep, your girl is great at producing the product, but not at selling it.

 

 

 

Catching Up with Fiorella

 Fio is still hard at work on the Ukrainian sunflowers and probably will be for a couple more days. She likes doing things like this, especially when it's for an important cause. If you're wondering how you too can make sunflowers, here goes--get hold of some yellow paper, cut it to the size sunflower you want, then fold it and cut it into an arc so you have a round shape, then cut up toward the core so you have petals, then open it up, add a round dark center, and--tadah! You have a sunflower! Um...going up and down the stepladder to tape the sunflowers in place is a little more risky.

Well,  your girl did well on her daily piano lesson, but she needs to do even better to bring herself up to par. And she also needs to locate her old music theory books if she wants to do any more composing. 

Remember that at Christmas time, Fio wrote a poem that challenged the world--or at least, her part of it? Well, what she's doing now is challenging not only the world but herself regarding her born-in gifts of music, art, languages, and literature. PS: The smile is free.😁

Son L reminded your girl that her latest doctor told her she would have to give herself some kind of injection from now on, which isn't going to happen. It you ever hear that Fiorella has committed suicide by any means, call the cops because Fio was was born averse to any form of hurting herself, even by minute finger prick.

It's probably time to take down the oak-leaf arrangement on your girl's bedroom door, but she isn't sure what to replace it with--maybe a cluster of fake Ukrainian sunflowers?

Hope This Report Makes Sense

 Fiorella is running late. Not only did she spend way too much time on trying to get her doctor appointments straightened out--in other words, waiting on the phone forever--but she also hauled out two more file drawers and put their contents (love stories) in their proper places, then started thinking about the horrible situation in Ukraine and how frustrated she was that she was unable to help in any way. But there WAS, she realized. Not directly, of course--more like propaganda, which Fio, in her own way, is quite good at it--ART. 

Thus several hours went down with her racing around the studio and her room, searching for just the  right junk paper to create sunflowers, then roaring into action. As of now, there are nine paper sunflowers Scotch-taped to the inside of the big window out front, where everyone will see them as they walk/drive by. If Fiorella cannot do anything else, she can remind people of the atrocities that are taking place and that horrible things could happen here if they are not vigilant.

Switching subjects, your girl is pleased to report that her piano practice is paying off. Day by day, her fingers are taking over from her eyes. 

 

Bits and Pieces

 

 Putin is 69 years old--time to retire.

It turns out that Son L also  has a long-lasting blog. Guess it's in the genes.

Still recovering from the surgery--a little woozy.

Yesterday evening, Fio began getting her file cabinets in order so she can write again.

Alert, alert! Your girl has lost her little pink book of birthdays!

I saw the sky/ Way up high/ And watched the world/ Go sailing by....

I'm the old crow/ In the far back row/ But I used to be/ As cute as can be 😋

 

Fio is probably repeating herself because our Pastor just paid a visit to us, but--

Help me, Lord, by your grace

To make the world a better place

Every day in every way

By what I do and what I say

Keeping Up with a Muchly Recovered Fiorella

 Fiorella has a hard time yesterday. The operation itself went well--she was out cold the whole time, of course--but after a good night of sleep last night, she realized that she was still "under the influence" the whole rest of the day and evening. On the other hand, the procedure--which apparently is the hospital's preferred word for cutting peopleopen--went well, and Fio lauds the staff from doctors on down for doing the best they could to make her informed and comfortable. Still, she'd rather not have to pay them another visit....

In the dim light of this morning's dawn, truth reigns, and Fio has already written several pages in her yellow tablet, analyzed herself and her family, planned for the rest of the day, and made vows for the future. Her goal, as always, is to make the world a better place for her having lived in it. Now to set to it!

 Did you know that your girl is so communication crazy that she never leaves the house without a pen, pencil, phone, tablet, and a couple of sheets of Kleenex in her bag? After all, a good reporter is aware that she'll never know when a thought or story will pop into her brain.

Fio is thinking about adding Uber and Lyft to her list of in-town chauffeurs. Chariot will always be her first choice, but they require her to put in a request a week beforehand so an appropriate driver can be found, and sometimes your girl needs a more immediate response.

Just realized that Fiorella got her I-can-make-anything genes from her mother, whose father was a handy-man extraordinare. And, by the way, has Fio told you that she built a much-needed bathroom fixture out of two nails and a side-ways-turned kitchen rack? Have hammer--will travel!

 

 

 

Wish Fio Well!

March 4th. Today's the day that Fiorella shows up at the hospital to get her pacemaker replaced. She has to be there by 8:00 in the morning, and Son L will be accompanying her. In the meantime, she's not supposed to eat anything, she can't sleep, and she's bored stiff.  This may be all you hear from Fio today, but please wish her well.

 Afterwards! Although she was told to come in early, Fio's procedure didn't take place till mid-afternoon, which meant that the roads were all clogged up, which meant that your girl got back later than expected, which means she hasn't even read the morning newspaper yet. Or played the piano....

Speaking of, The Austin American-Statesman--for whom Fio used to write a neighborhood column years ago--will not be publishing its Saturday pages in print anymore.

 Yep, the times, they are a-changing.

 

Survival?

Pray for Fiorella. The closer the time comes to when she's going to have the pacemaker replacement--tomorrow's the date--the more anxious she gets. Yep, it's the same ol' panic that she's been fighting off ever since her seemingly endless traumas began.

Your girl decided to calm herself own by playing the piano, but instead, she played so badly--even the pieces she'd pretty much mastered--that she could feel the wrath of John Thompson swirling around her like chimney smoke. Sorry, John, but Fio's in a deep funk right now. 

OMG! Just this moment, Fiorella got a call from the doctor's office and a happy-voiced nurse made a pacemaker change-out sound like a walk in the park, even telling your girl to be sure and get a good meal this evening. 

Has Fio told you about when she got her first pacemaker? Actually, it was rather sweet. She fainted when she was teaching at a small Texas college and had to be hauled out of her office on a stretcher--and her students were so concerned that they called the hospital and one of them even pretended to be a doctor to get the latest information about her condition. 💗

Hey, just by talking to you, Fio is feeling better! THANK YOU!

 

 

Too Busy a Day

 This is going to be a hard week for Fio, but she has no choice but to fling that Christmas kite into the sky and move forward. Thank goodness she finally has a driver (WHEW!), as well as a load of pre-precedure instructions from the heart doctor's office. They've also sent her a map by email of the hospital (thank you, God!) that your non-electronic girl will get Son L to run out. Now to tackle the long list of meds that the coumadin people told Fio to lay off of while she's preparing for the pacemaker replacement.

The brightest spot in Fiorella's day so far was a call from friend Paula in Vermont. God bless Alexander Graham Bell for telephones and long distance--and God bless Paula for letting Fio wail her heart out.

Just thought how weird it is that your girl was one of the first people around to use a computer, but now she's at the back of the line--which she can blame on Husband's death. He was the one who guided her electronic explorations and now she's way behind on everything.

 Forgive Fio if she's already talked about all the lovely end-of-semester student evaluations she got from students way back when. It warms her heart and redeems her confidence in herself when she reads through them. Actually, she was one of the highest-rated teachers wherever she taught, but her popularity could also make for her undoing. Jealousy is a nasty word.... .

 Fiorella has a VERY important birthday coming up and she's making plans. Hint: the most important thing to her is family. 💗

 

 

 

From Control to Total Non-control

 Been thinking things over and decided to be more up'n at'm, to control what goes on around me rather than letting myself be controlled. Of course, this has been my goal all along as I've stretched my legs and wings, but learning that my heart has to be reset again has given a me a an extra push and a lot more more momentum. It's nice to record what is going on, but your girl likes to be in the thick of things. WORLD, HERE THE WOMAN COMES AGAIN!

It's also at a good time for her to spread her wings because Fio is finding all sorts of family papers as she sorts out her file cabinets. She's also finding her own papers--OMG, Fiorella was active in almost everything--the church, the newspaper, the neighborhood--it's a wonder Austin survived when she moved out to Gtown. 

Talking with the driver who dropped Fio off at her medical appointment was a gift from heaven. Margaret was compatica from the moment she showed up at Fiorella's front door, and they talked about our concerns re Covid, compared it to the plagues of old, and  dumped on Trump so--of course, your  girl invited her in to see her paintings and gave her one of her book 

CRAP! The heart doctor wants Fiorella in at 6 a.m. to change out her stupid pacemaker, and there's no one available to drive your girl over to the that early so she's put out an SOS and an offer of $100 with Chariot in case they know will fill the bill. Fio also left a message with her sister-in-law, and is wondering if taxi cabs still exist. YOU WOULD THINK THE DOCTOR WOULD HAVE SCHEDULED  LATER THAN THE BREAK OF DAWN!