Fiorella is apparently behind in reporting to you, which she doesn't understand. Could she have forgotten to push the PUBLISH sticker on her work yesterday....or did the great white Persian cat take over while your girl was outside somewhere? Whatever, now you know for sure that Fio is for real--no syndication involved.
Actually, Fiorella was inside most of the day, shoveling through mini-piles of things like writing and rewriting her latest little poem, fighting with the local hospital over the telephone about when her weekly blood draw should be, and pondering what to call herself now that your little Lutheran girl has tasted Methodist communion. (It was very nice and the choir was FANTASTIC!)
Granddaughter convinced her father, Son L, that it was a great evening for ice cream and invited Fio along to boot. It was a lovely evening, soft, almost hazy, and Fiorella couldn't help but think of the many trips to the ice cream shop that her father had taken the family on when she was a child in Ohio....and she also wondered if he was watching them on high as they enjoyed their treats.
Tomorrow, your girl will be visiting her favorite doctor--she even gave him a couple of her novels a couple of years ago. After all, he'd told her about about a motorcycle excursion when he and several other local doctors went a while back. (It's fun to have a sawbones who isn't afraid of being a friend.)
Fio is still waiting on pins and needles for the results of our local polls, but she is hoping, hoping, hoping the good guys will win. REMEMBER GEORGIA!
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