NOT MY BEST SHOW......

 You wouldn't believe the amount of time Fiorella spent in the eye-glasses store today, especially after all the time that she'd already spent last week in the doctor's office being tested . But what the heck, it's over now--except for the two-week lense-less wait for the NEW lenses and her hopeful search for her old, OLD plastic glasses that she's lost a wing off of. Er.....did you follow all that?

If your wondering about the latest escapades of Gorgeous George, the beautiful white Persian who's formed an attachment to your girl, as soon as Fio arrived back to the house he lovingly settled down lovingly on Fio's bed, then threw up on it.

With March on its last legs, Fiorella needs to come up with a springtime design for  the front of the house. How about running a line of colorful paper flowers across her front room display window? We'll see, we'll see.

Of course,  a new spring is also a sign of new life--real life, be it be ideas or babies, both of which Fiorella welcomes. Yes, Fio's new grandson is (sort of) walking now, and Fiorella herself is cautiously reentering the portrait painting game again. Please wish us both well.

 

IF YOU'RE WONDERING WHAT FIORELLLA IS REALLY THINKING, THIS IS IT!

   I'd like to burn a building down

   Or shoot somebody from the tower

   To  make them know that I'm alive

   For just one hour--oh, just one hour!

 

FIORELLA ON THE RAMPAGE! ANY TAKERS?

 Have you ever tried making your bed with a big, fat Persian cat resisting you every inch along the way?

Fiorella is restless. The TV shows attached to her chest-of-drawers have worn out her interest and, as you know, she has no transportation. But your girl needs more than entertainment and a car. She wants to be acknowledged as a person. 

She needs friends, someone to talk to and maybe help her gather all her poems and clever comments together, then strong-arm them to a publisher with a top-notch publicist.

She also needs a new wardrobe, including underwear and shoes, but is there anyone around who has the time to take her to the appropriate stores?

Last, Fio, a life-long lover of languages, would like to be in a position that allows her to pick up the remains of her studies of German or Spanish and move foreword. (Wouldn't it be wonderful if she picked up a bit of Russian and French too?)

Is there any way possible for her to realize her dreams? Can you help?

 

 

 

 

LETTING IT ALL HANG OUT!

Is Fiorella the only person who blogs herself every day? But with limited transportation, what else does she have to do?

Hurray! it's choir practice day, when your girl gets to mingle with the Methodists, all of whom so far have been very nice and helpful. Fio hopes that means Fio's second attempt at mingling will work out better than her first because Fiorella is still bored, bored, bored--and, by the way, SHE STILL NEEDS A REAL FRIEND--SOMEONE TO LAUGH WITH AND TALK TO!

Your girl is tired of watching the same old movies on TV again and again. She wants to get out, buy some new clothes (including underwear), and meet people. She also needs a cell phone and a camera to get pictures out!

Fiorella knocked down the contents of one of her art shelves in her salon today and was surprised and thrilled by all the things shed tucked away that she can put a good use use to. Wahoo! Fio rides again!

Also, she has been studying her salon front window to see what sort of fake flowers she can form into an April flowers wreath.

Totally off track--she also wants to join a German class, if she can get someone who will come to the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What's Going On

 This is one of Fiorella's more difficult days. D-in-L has taken over the lovely little display coven in which Fio spent more than a year stationing her own and her family's pretties and prides, some of them from a century past.

 Today isn't a good day otherwise for your girl either. When she opened up the gingerbread that she usually has for lunch, some tiny little ants scrambled out, which means she'll have to find something else to quaff her midday hunger this week. Hmm....what about that meat she left in the family refrigerator?

Has Fio ever told you that all of her children have three surnames and that her daughter has carried the practice through to the next generation?

When Fiorella weeps, has it ever occurred to you to ask why and try to comfort her?

When is your girl going to get her soaker tub, the kind of bathtub she had in her old house?

How is she going to make a friend with not a candidate in sight?

She is lonely.

More Bits and Pieces

 What a weekend! Your girl nearly went crazy worrying about a threatening notice she had received from one of her doctors saying she owed him $1,475, and there was no way for her to contact him till Monday. Also, while she was happy to finally join up with the Methodist choir, it was also nerve racking because she still doesn't know what she should be doing.

However, first thing Monday morning, Fiorella called her doctor's number, which led her to another phone number, which finally led her to the phone of the the woman who had the authority to correct the mistake. Your girl is in the clear, but her heart is still beating like a jumping jack. 

Fio also spent about two hours sorting through the pile of notes from way back when--and one of them was a sweet thank-you note from the mother of a boy whose son your girl  had been to teach her son how to sing. The experience was an eye-opener to Fiorella. She thought everyone came out of the womb song in his heart!

One thing Fio noticed about the church choir is that it's almost all composed of older people, which is different than her other choirs. Are church choirs dying out? Are CHURCHES dying out?

End of the day, and Fiorella is moody. She needs a nice new TV movie to lull herself to sleep, but she seems to have used them all up.

 

    

CATCHING UP WITH FIORELLA REGARDING PUBLISHING, SINGING, PAINTING, FAMILY

 Your girl is up in arms! While looking through her sonnets, she suddenly realized that none of them are in print and she has no idea how to attract a publisher. Surely there can be somebody out there who could make a small killing out of Fiorella's rhymes! She even wrote at least one in Latin too, and wouldn't be surprised if, through the years, she hadn't added in a few other languages also. 

If you're following Fiorella, you've been subjected to a fair number of her sonnets and other lyrics, plus, of course, bits and pieces of all her other creative endeavors. Now, she doesn't want to have walked this earth and rattled her brain for nothing. Surely there is someone out there who can run off all her endeavors and roll them up into a encyclopedia of Fiorella Plum. She would even give you permission to reveal Fio's Carpathian-Rusyn birth name! 

Otherwise, her life is still pretty much the same as she's been complaining about for what seems like forever: no friends--although son is trying to fix that by setting her up with a nearby church's choir. Everyone has been helpful and nice so far, but Fio's not sure she has the voice she had when she directed her own choirs.

Changing the subject: your girl has started spending a fair amount of time checking out what she has in  her salon/study/studio such as the unfinished portrait of her mother, and Fio is quite pleased by the results so far, but, strangely, the background may be a problem. 

HOORAY, HOORAY--it looks like there might be a family gathering soon!

 

The DEATH OF DEATH

 

VICTORY

Foul, stinking Death, I hate you--go away!

   I will not let you take me, now or ever --

   I'll light my nights as bright as noontime day

   I will not die--my name will live forever!

O God, if you are there, slay Death for me,

   That lingers in the shadow of my shoulder

    Just out of view, where I can barely see,

    Crafty, plotting, planning, daily bolder---

Oh God, it's time! To arms! take up the fight

     And range your hosts across the hell-black sky--

     Advance, attack in force, meet might with might--

      Deal death to Death--yes,- Death itself must die!    

   A cold and silent night, a mother's sigh--

    The victory of a newborn baby's cry!

FAMILY PROBLEMS, KIDS AND MOTHER

 Making plans for the weekend--a lot of things going on. On Friday, your girl  will make her second attempt to at getting new glasses, and later in the day, there will be a big family get-together regarding our land out of state. Then, on Sunday,  Fio is supposed to be going over the Easter music with the church that she deserted last year because her throat was giving her so much trouble. It's better now but she still has the cough. (What she really needs to do is get hold of a doctor who specializes in her problem.)

Joining the churches' on-stage singing group in an Easter celebration may turn out harder than it sounds for your girl because Son L will not be available to tote her around. Not sure of his plans, but he'll probably be celebrating Easter in his in-law's specious backyard and enjoying a traditional egg hunt.

********************************************************************************

Okay, Fio admits that she fell apart just now for at least an hour--sobs after sobs. There has been so much bearing down on her lately, and then there's the constant loneliness and disappointment. What will tomorrow bring? Fiorella is afraid to ask, but what she would like to see is her own family united and respectful of themselves, their siblings, and their mother. 

And while your girl is at it, she would also like them to please help and encourage their mother in her interests because she loves each one of you very much.💗

A COUPLE OF FIORELLA'S EARLIER POEMS WHICH DESERVE PUBLICATION

 

 

                  True Grit-itude

You are so kind to always think of me

To let me know the error of my ways

To guide me, chide me, Procrustes bed-ize me

To nip my heels when e'er my footpath strays

     Five minutes alone in an alley, you snit

     And I'll show you how much I appreciate it!

 

And here's a more serious poem:

                 Prayer of the Magus

Dear God, the night has passed, the day begun,

I wake to face the horror of the dawn

The cold blue sky and brazen, blazing sun

Obscure my view; the guiding star is gone.

Last night the star was bright, the vision clear

The pathway certain I had sought life long

I knew my God and Bethlehem was near

So near at last, dear God, my faith was strong,

Now hope is gone; I cannot find my way

I feel a fool, as old men often are--

The dreams of night have been subsumed by day

And I, bereft, alone, I doubt the star--

     O God, dear God, I pray you once again,

     Please, God, please let there be a God. Amen.

 

 

 

 

RUNNING LATE BUT ENDING WELL

 Son L has planned to drop Fio's Lutheran soul off at the Methodist's magnificent choir again, which hasn't worked so far because, although Fio has no objections (Lutheran and Methodist are practically brothers as far as your girl can tell) SHE STILL HAS THAT DANG COLD!! (How about another try at a throat specialist?)

For fellow sopranos who are wondering, your girt still has something of an F, but her G has been coughed away forever.😕

Really good news--Son L has said that this weekend, he is is going to take Fiorella--who has been whining for a couple of months about her glasses--down to the place in the mall where he picked up his new own glasses a couple of months ago.  (So many of your girl's problem would be quickly taken care of if she still drove.)

Fio has been totally bored today so  she dragged an old, only, and unfinished painting of her mother out of storage and will stare at it a while, then do what she can with it. Pray for both of us--your girl hasn't done a portrait in YEARS....

Later in the day: It worked! Fiorella still has her touch! Yes, your girl is leaping for joy! 

Even later in the day--another migraine. Maybe the new glasses will help.

 

 

 

MORE POEMS

Fiorella isn't sure which of her writings she's posted, but she had a bad day and doesn't want to share it. Instead, she'll feed you a couple of her strange and wonderful poems which she may or may not posted before.

Survivor

     My heart is like a little boat

     That sails upon the sea

     Rocked by waves and ocean float

     Swamped by adversity

     But still the staunchest little boat

     That ever sailed the sea 

 

Ship Wreck

Grab a Board and hold on tight

The boat is going down !

But maybe if you've played you cards just right

You'll take the bastards with you when you drown!

Depression

I pull it 'round me like a cloak of null,

This numbing void, this fine despair of mine,

A somber blanket folded thrice to dull

The knife-sharp edges of my dark decline--

I need a nothingness, a time of naught,

A comfort place,an anesthetic buffer

To suffocate my sense, my every thought, 

For if I do not feel, I cannot suffer--

For if I do not try, I cannot fail,

And if I do not care, I'll have no pain,

And if I do not trust, then no betrayal

Can pierce my unprotected heart again--

     And if I do not hope, then no defeat

     Can mortify me in this sweet retreat

ALL IN ALL.............

    

 Watch out--you're going to be getting a crescendo of Fiorella's productions--from stories to poetry and, if your girl can manage it, to art, maybe even music compositions

                                       

      To My Children (I think I've posted this poem before, but it bears repeating)

When I am old, so very old I stink

Of unwashed underarms and brain cell death,

So old I shake, my spine and stature shrink,

I whistle, quake and rattle with each breath--

When I am old,  so very old I drool,

And age spots big as elephants appear,

When I forget my name and act the fool

And talk too loud because I cannot hear--

Even when I'm angry, trapped in rage,

Become a miser, call each dime misspent,

When I am cruel and stupid with my age,

When I reject you, scotch your good intent--

     Remember once I loved you of my will,

     And in my heart of hearts, I love you still

     💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

      Going through her papers, your girl found a stack of pages labeled Notebook, and realized she had come upon a cachet of some of her early writings which still ring true today. Maybe she should gather some of her poems and stories together and talk to a publisher--but then again, would anyone buy her? Ho, hum....long ago, Fio learned that connections are more important than talent.

    

 

  

POEMS WITH MEANINGS

 Fiorella's bedroom is so small that she has to manually move her electricity on back and forth between her computer and her newly rediscovered Patsy Cline/Dolly Parton records, which is annoying. Cline and Parton, you say? Those were the days! 

Speaking of rediscovery,  your girl has a couple of her own old, old, oldies for you today, such as:

   

   I walk with sudden dignity  

   I know not why or how--

   All I know is that I know,

   I am a woman now 

___________________________________________

The day was bright with sunshine

The foliage gemmed with green

The grass was far too softened

The sidewalk was too clean

And I was filled with conscientiousness

Of what could not be seen--

    A soul is racked with birth pains

    Before the truth is born

    A sky is rent with heavy rains

     Before the dawn of morn    

 _____________________________________________

To My Children (1996) 

     When I am old, so very old I stink

     Of unwashed underarms and brain cell death--

     So old I shake, my spine and stature shrink,

     I whistle, quake, and rattle with each breath--

     When I am old, so very old I drool,

     And age spots big as elephants appear,

     When I forget my my name and act the fool

     And talk too loud because I cannot hear--

     Even when I'm angry, trapped in rage,

     Become a miser, call each dime misspent,

     When I am cruel and stupid with my age,

     When I reject you, scotch your good intent--

          Remember, once I loved you of my will,

         And in my heart or hearts, I love you still

           

____________________________________________________________                                    

          

    A soul is racked with birth pains

    Before the truth is born

   The sky is rent with heavy rains

    Before the dawn of morn

                                                   

 
_________________________________________________________JBB______

From FOOD to a LOST COUSIN to HER BOOKS to HER VOICE to HER SPEAKING VOICE to PATSY and DOLLY!

 Here is Fio on the 18th of March, fresh from browsing H-E-B for a raid on her weekly groceries. Your girl exaggerates, of course, because there's more fun that way. Wahoo!😊

Guess what? Fiorella got an answer from her letter to her second cousin in California, the one she sorta remembers from when they were about five years old. (It almost gave your girl a chill.)

The cousin also sent her a long letter about what was going on in her world and--ta-da--said that she had read both of Fio's romances and LIKED them! (Note to Fiorella: finish up the third book of that series and get it on the market!)

In the meantime, your girl has to work on her speaking voice, which has suffered horribly during her four bad years. Panic is the problem, of course, but--sigh--the doctor said there's something wrong with her throat too.

In the meantime, Fiorella is going to take her Dolly Parton and Patsy Cline records out of the corner window sill, dust them off, and sing herself to sleep.

LATE ON THE SEVENTEENTH

 This blog may be late on the seventeenth or not appear at all because your girl is being a sport and joining the rest of the family going over to the other grandmother's house to honor IRISH, DAY this evening, which is ridiculous for Fiorella, who's half Carpathian Rusyn and not sure of anything else. But what the heck--a party's a party and Fio doesn't see very many of those nowadays.

OMG, OMG, OMG! Fiorella thought winter was over, but on opening the front door to take her daily walk around the neighborhood cul-de-sac, she discovered it was going full blast-COLD! Sigh....nothing to do but return her cuddly zip-jacket to the front-door closet and lug out her mother's  mink, which hangs to her knees. On her way back home, she did run into Son L, who was crossing their street in a jacket, but he was just visiting a neighbor while your girl stayed the track. Guess those Ohio days trained her well. 😊

As she said in the past, Fio is thinking about getting into the portrait-painting business again, but this time she's planning to arm herself with a camera. Your girl likes to use a camera because she--and her subject--have a choice of poses. 

It's hard to remember how to cook--even easy things like salmon--when you haven't used the stove or oven for a fairly long time. Have mercy!

Fio wants to recommend a nice go-to-sleep-with-a-smile-on-your-face TV movie that she watched last night. It's about witches, warlocks, and love, love, love.

 

 

LANGUAGES HERE, LANGUAGES THERE! LANGUAGES EVERY THERE!

 HOORAY, HOORAY! Fiorella has LOST three pounds and GAINED a bit of muscle on her on-and-off quest to learn El Espanol. Translation: she's cut down on her sweets and persuaded the nice young man that her son engaged to help her with her post-operation knee to also help her with Spanish. Got it? Si?!

What is it about Fiorella and her languages? Why is she so stuck on them? Maybe because she heard members of her father's family speaking in their native Carpathian Rusyn when she was still in the cradle and wondered what it was. Maybe it's  related to her love for singing itself, which is a form of talking (and vice versa). Maybe it's that she's just plain nosy about what everyone is saying and wants to be part of the tribe. Whatever, wherever she goes, your girl keeps her ears open for the languages, but (sigh) has never become fluent in anything but American English.

Not that she'll throw down her towel! Somewhere along the way, she's determined to master German--the mother of English--and pick up some Spanish, which is a derivative of her beloved Latin (five years in high school/college).  Then, of course, there's Russian (two years?), Telugu, and Hindu.

GRRRRR.....Oh, the time your girl has wasted! But then, she wanted to have children.....and she was drawn to art and music and theater and everything else under the sun. 

Maybe she should have been an octopus.

Hey, Fio left out French, which, as she's told you before, she learned for a Linguistics Department required new language. Your girl figured FRENCH would be the easiest since her best friend, Nicole Domingue, was French and she (Fiorella) was accustomed to its swings and formations. She also went down town to her favorite used book store and bought an ancient book on learning French. (And she thinks she's told you this story before, but it's worth repeating.)😊

B-A-A-A D DAY! NOW YOU KNOW ALL!

 Fiorella, who was dressed in some very nice clothes in anticipation of her usually enjoyable visit to her neurologist, was stunned when Cheriot, the local free transport for elders--the one Fiorella has praised to the skies and generously contributed to--called to tell your girl they didn't have a driver today, despite the   appointment she that booked eight days ago. Got all that? 😖

As somebody who has praised Cheriot to the skies and donated generously to its coffers, you'd think they could dig up somebody to fulfill their semi-promise to Fio--or at least give their your girl more than a five hour warning! 😡

To top it all off (but with no connection), Fio has had to move her computer from her bedroom to the salon/study/studio because her right thigh hurts from from the sag in her bed. 😠

The nicest thing that happened was that when we got home, the little next-door-neighbor girl came over to greet us. Fio knew that the girl was mainly looking for her playmate who was visiting her grandmother, but Son L and Fiorella were also included in her joyous greeting. 💗

Down to the brass tacks--does anyone out there know about a class or system that Fio could attend that would help her speak as easily and well as she did before her years of calamity overtook her?😞

 

 

 

WHERE THE HEART LEADS, PLUS

 Guess what...FIORELLA IS INTERNATIONAL! Her British friend Suzy called this morning and she and your girl talked for about a half-hour, even though Fio had a froggy throat and couldn't remember the names of her friend's grand children.

Your girl treasures her friends and followers. Their loyalty and encouragement has caused a major upswing in her climb back to her full and real self. 💗

By the way, if you want to read a good cowboy romance, try Where the Heart Leads, Fio's second book. Sure it's a romance, but Fio did lots of deep, deep research on all its other aspects too, from scandal to theater to murder. Hmm...maybe your girl should dive back into the romance writing scene again.

Hey--remember when Fiorella was besieged by two years worth of serious carpal-tunnel? Well, it looks like she's over the siege now, for which she gives thanks, but let's face it--her finger tips are still tingling a little and always will be.  (She's also allergic to the shine that is sometimes put in coverlets for beds, as Fio learned the hard way.) 

Question: In general, do people all over the world have about the same IQ?  If so, then we are all from the same beginning and the colors were painted on afterwords. 

See yah tomorrow!

 

 

 

VERSES FROM WHERE THE HEART LEADS

Fio wishes that all these verses, which she composed for her book WHERE THE HEART LEADS could have come out as part of a real live show tune. 

Where the Heart Leads.

    Who would I be if I weren't me?

Maybe a pirate sailing the sea,

Maybe a princess, maybe a queen,

Maybe an actress on the silver screen

    Or maybe I'd be like Nellie Bly

And amuse, amaze, and edify...

Maybe I'll dance, maybe I'll sing

Oh, I could do most anything.

    But what, whatever happens, whatever may be

    I have you, Jim, so I'm glad I'm me

_________________________________________

     Della's Prayer

If I sing enough, if I pray enough

    If I'm very, very good

Maybe everything will turn out

   As I hope it will, as it should

   As it should.

__________________________________________ 

   New York morning, clear and bright

Not a single cloud in sight

   Ladies and gents are strolling the street

   Talking with all their friends they meet

While children trundle their hoops along---

    Everything's right, nothing is wrong.

Nothing is wrong, 

    Everything's right

Try as you may-

   Try as you might,

Whatever you say 

   Life's a delight

You won't find anything wrong today,

    Not on this beautiful New York day.

Love triumphant wins the day

    Now we are happy, happy and gay

Happy New Year,

     Be of good cheer

Whatever you say, life's a delight

Times may be tough, times may be rough

   But there's always a way, always a way'

Always a way if you love enough

    So be of good  cheer 

    Happy New Year

Love triumphant wins the day!

MORE MOIRA, JUST TO GET YOU INTERESTED

 More teasers from WHERE THE HEART LEADS:

Regarding the town's dance teachers....

Moira knocked on their door, then turned the old-fashioned pressed brass doorknob and entered the lions' den--the lionesses' den--then stopped to look around. Gymnastic equipment, floor mats and a pair of trampolines occupied a far corner, and each of the other corners held an electronic spinet. Her eyebrows went up as she noticed the tracks for folding doors that partitioned the room into four equal sections which would allow several activities to go on at once. Apparently their business was doing well enough that Xandra and Fleurette had additional teachers on staff.

She ran her hand down the ballet barre as she walked toward the door in the corner labeled OFFICE, and the click of her heels on the hardwood floor echoed like rifle shots. The overheads were on, but the emptiness and silence of the high-ceilinged room were intimidating.

Is this the scene where the heroine discovers the dead body and screams her lungs out, she wondered?

But no, Moira--you've already done that in real life..... 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

_______________________________________________________________________________________

By the way, Fio is thrilled to discover that she still has an F and a bit of a G, information which will mean nothing to anyone but a choir director or another soprano. Not that she can cut loose around the house at any old time, though. Her best time will be when she's the only one in the house, but then again, the neighbors might think she's murdering someone or being murdered, especially since she hasn't taken her walk today.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

 That's all for today. Your girl is back to being blue.

FROM FIORELLA TO MOIRA

 Sometimes Fiorella wonders how many readers she has, but then it may be that she's all alone talking to herself so she doesn't try to find out. It's not like when she was teaching and could take roll. 

Your girl just got back from her daily walk and she can tell you two things she learned from her travel: it is HOT outside and, judging by the number of black cars driving slowly down the street to the cul-de-sac, the Mafia is casing the place. Hope they didn't notice Fiorella twirling her cane/baton/magic wand as she walked along the sidewalk. 

Everything is topsy-turvy today. Fio missed her Friday visit to H-E-B, etc., yesterday because Daughter and child came to visit, so she and her driver will pick up your girl's foodstuff for the week and visit Walmart today. (No need to check out Walgreen's because Son L drove over there this morning and straightened out a mistake in Fio's pills.)

 Ah, the mighty George has just leaped up on your girl's bed and settled his purring self down beside her. Excuse Fio while we touch noses.

As a close to Fiorella's meandering today, she will read you half a page from her second romance as follows:

 ________________________________________________________________________________-

 Moira steeled herself as Rafe escorted her out and bade Astrid goodbye. This would be a very difficult evening. 

Her eyes went wide. Oh my God! Waiting at the curb was the biggest, baddest pickup she'd ever seen.

Rafe's truck looked like nothing so much as Cinderella's coach on steroids, and was waaay too much. It had a generous back seat, an extra-long truck bed, four wheels on the rear, and a big hook thing on the wraparound back bumper. To top it off, COLBY-MCALLISTER RANCH was stenciled in gold on the door.

 Her first impulse was to turn around, run back into the house, and lock the door behind her, but an inner voice told her otherwise. Behave yourself, Moira. Remember that Gram and Gramp are depending on you, that Astrid and Arne are depending on you. Even Ivanhoe, the dog, is depending on you....

 She took a deep breath. "That's--uh--not like anything I ever saw on the streets of Pasadena."

    

                                                                        (Do you like it?)

 

 

o

 

HERE AND THERE AND EVERYWHERE

Fiorella is now wedged between her daughter, who's out buying that long desired camera for Mom this afternoon, and your girl's faithful driver, whose arrival time is at about the same time. Please, someone, please--let's buy Fiorella a full-time chauffeur.... or teach her how to ride a horse through heavy traffic.

And while you're at it, please also find an eye clinic that doesn't cancel on an older woman two days before her appointment and give her no reason for doing so. And that's YOU, Texas Eye! Fiorella, who does not drive, spent a lot of time planning and arranging for her appointment, and then you mercilessly dumped Fio in the trash heap when she called two days beforehand to make sure all was well. Your representative couldn't even tell Fio why or give her a new appointment time! SHAME!

Hmm....maybe squawking round with FB did the trick because, although Fiorella's computer escaped off her lap into darkness for half an hour, when she opened it up again, all her vitriol was still extant. Maybe the angels are on her side after all.

Fiorella had a lovely afternoon visit with said daughter, but no cellphone or camera were in sight. Also, interesting enough, Fio's pharmacy mistook her request for a refill of one of her milder medications and  supplied her with a whopper instead.  Good thing your girl knows how to read.

Our pastor called today to compliment Fio on her late, late, late Christmas card so maybe some of her other old-time friends will also respond to her. 💗

 

CHECKING EVERYTHING OUT

 EEK--there's no hope for Fiorella! Yesterday evening, Son L told her that a physical therapist will drop in today between 1:00 and 3:00 today. (Your girl will appreciate the company, but cringes at the thought of being checked out for all her bad habits.  Hmmm...where can Fio hide the chocolate?)

On the other hand, maybe her visitor will be able to point out a way for your girl to get treatment for her (achoo!) crackling voice, runny nose, and burning throat, which are driving her CRAZY! Fio will report in to you later in the day---if the therapist shows....

YEAH! The therapist came, but all she  checked out was your girl's stupid left knee, which is pretty well heeled by now. Fio's current problems are her eyes, nose, and throat!

Fiorella took her daily walk down to the cul-de-sac today and the weather was w-a-y too warm. Your girl's going to have to wait till evening to survey the territory or leave earlier in the day!

Did your girl tell you that when a phone rang the other morning, she reached for her remote? Bet Fio's not the first one!

And Fiorella asks again "WHERE ARE THE ALL THE NICE JEWISH LADIES WHO CARTED YOUR GIRL AROUND ALONG WITH THEIR  OWN DAUGHTERS TO MOVIES, SEWING CLASSES, PAINTING CLASSES, MOVIES, SWIM LESSON'S, ETC? WHERE DID ALL THOSE LOVELY LADIES DISAPPEAR TO?

 

 

 

FIORELLA....Making the Best of What She Can

 Is it really March 8th already? If so, what has your girl gotten done? What about all those little tabs she' s pinned and taped to the wall in her bedroom, especially the ones that are double-outlined in red? 

Well, it's not as if Fiorella can get around anywhere unless it's a brief Friday afternoon run out for groceries and a few extras with her former maid. And, by the way, her days of watching free TV are also over because the powers-that-be have moved most of the shows to payment status.

At least, she still has her sense of humor, sympathy for others, interest in everything around her, and artistic talent-- but what she's lost is her ability to travel on her own. 

Actually, her car is still in use by Son L and family, but Fiorella's bad left eye bars her from driving anymore. This means she has to call on Son, who is already overloaded, or Cheriot, a local set up for older people who need to get somewhere but don't have the wheels. It's a great organization and Fiorella has contributed to it often as a thank-you, but one has to call seven days ahead and its service does not extend beyond the city limits.

Fiorella's main exercise, as you've probably guessed, is walking up to the top of the hill in her neighborhood, then walking down to the bottom of the cul-de-sac, walking up to the hill again, then back down  to the house and home--twirling her crimson cane like a baton along the way. Those majorettes who taught her how to twirl when she was in the second grade in Ohio would be proud of her!

 

 

 

All the News that's Fit to Print!

 Your girl is lying sideways on her bedroom (because there's no desk in the tiny room) and prowling through FaceBook, in which she's still somewhat behind. You will remember that Fio, once a FB queen--campaigned against Trump and his atrocious separation of migrant children from their families, so let's make sure that monstrous man never gets an opportunity to walk through the doors of the White House  again!😡

Hip, hip, hooray! Fio's scale registered a loss of TWO pounds--unless they were just because she was still in her nightgown and had her clothes, shoes, and jewelry yet to go.....😕

Does Walmart sell Keds? Fiorella's faithful blue gallumpers have bitten the dust and she'd like to replace them. She also wants to pick up a pair of beige shoes in order to complete her wardrobe--for now. 😁

Hooray! Just went with Son L to pick up Granddaughter from kindergarten, and on the way, he urged your girl to be more assertive--like, she assumes, she was before Husband died and she herself nearly died from being iced in by Governor Abbott. (Not so sure Son L will like the new Fio.)

Unfortunately, we've had a split in our family, but Fiorella is hoping to bring everyone back together again at some point. Pray for us. 💗

 

 

 

ADDING MORE INFORMATION

 As she has already told you, Fio's eye doctor bolted on her and now your girl doesn't have an appointment for the seventh.... or and will  have to spend a fair amount of time getting hold of not only another doctor, but a new method of transportation. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Fiorella is so upset that she took a second walk around the cul-de-sac last this evening.

She also doesn't like Son L blowing his top because Fiorella still hasn't mastered all the ins and outs of the modern television screen. (It seems like every time she turns around, the blue lines, yellow lines, and green lines have switched their meanings.)

Hey, have you ever read either of the two romances that your girl wrote? She can't find the first book, What the Heart Wants, but has a full tray of the second one, Where the Heart Leads. How's this for an opening? "Moira drove into the asphalt across the street from the yellow brick building and swung her six-year-old Toyota into a marked space. Panic crawled up her spine."

By bringing this book to your attention, Fiorella is bringing it to her own attention too..... and maybe coaxing herself to start writing novels again. Lolly's story, the third in this series, has been hanging loose for a long, long, time now....

Changing the subject, Fio has noticed that we have several nasty looking weeds springing up in our lawn that need to get taken care of. Your girl's first choice for replacement would be St. Augustin, which anyone who's grown up in Texas knows can have a yard looking great within a year or two--permanently!

 Son L just brought in the mail for Fio to sort through while George, the cat, nestled down beside Fiorella on her bed, so your girl would guess she herself has said enough for the day. 😊

TELLING ALL

Fiorella would have worn her locks down to her ankles when she was in school, but her mother considered any female who whose hair hung long was "foreign" and cheap.

The battle came to a head (pun intended) when Fio was in the fourth fourth grade and her mother talked your girl into letting the retired hairdresser of one of Dad's foremen cut her hair. After all the snipping was done, Fio looked in the mirror, burst into tears, and vowed never to let her hair be cut again. Mom backed off for a while, but when Fio was in high school, she bribed your girl to get her hair cut regularly by the most exclusive shop in town. Who could resist that?

Of course, when Fiorella flew the coop to college, she let her hair grow long again and Mom gave up the battle. If you're interested, in later years, Fio has bounced back and forth not only for length, but for color. She's settled into the natural look now--long hair. Yep, her mother must be rolling her eyes in heaven.

😘😘😘

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Son L and his family came in the door to from their grocery shopping expedition and within two minutes, the doorbell rang for our little princess to come play. Have to admit that Fiorella was never that popular. Of course, her playmates were never that close together. Hi, there, Ellen and Elaine!

.........................................................................................................................................................................

Give Fio a clap on the back--she's making steady progress on emptying cork board number 3, the one that has most of the medical information on it. Fio's goal is to be able to take it off the wall by next week.

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Anger, Music, Weight, Cul-de Sac, Spring All Over Again

 Yesterday, Fiorella woke up smiling because she was only five days away from the eye exam she had waited for so long, the exam she had run back forth about to make sure everything was in order--that she'd contacted Cheriot seven days ahead as directed for transportation, that Son would be able to pick her up after the exam and drive her to the hospital to get her blood drawn. Happiness reigned supreme. But by the end of the day, she was sobbing. The exam had been cancelled by a rough, ignorant voice that explained nothing. All your girl's planning and praying was for nothing. 

This is what life is like when one is a second-class citizen.

***************************************************************************************  Fiorella was going through some photos of herself and her ladies for the "Little Red Ridinghood" mini-operetta she composed so many years ago and decided to hang them up (the photos, not the ladies) in the hall to remind herself of what she has done and what she can do. And maybe, when she's settled in more, she'll be able to reproduces--if she can find the score, she hope.

 Right now, though, Fio is going to be concentrating on losing thirty pounds of weight. She wondered why all those shirts and tops seemed so tight on her....

Excuse me, but now is the time for Fiorella to drop everything else and take a twirl of her baton up the street to the cul-de-ac, then home again. (It's really a crimson color cane left over from her knee injury, but your girl likes to think of it as a baton like the one she twirled in the second grade in Ohio so many years ago.)

It must really be a Texas spring because the weather is warming up fast and a cadre of pre-school mothers were talking back and forth to one another in the middle of the street.😍

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Her New Scale to Waco Memories to Cork Boards to Cellphone to George

Yikes! Fiorella finally got the nerve to step up on her new scale and is not happy with her weight. Let's just say that she needs to take off at least thirty pounds. Good-by chocolate..... 

For some reason unknown, your girl can't get her memories of the Waco tornado out of her mind lately--of her mother packing Fio and her brother in the hall, which was the only room in the house that had no windows. Of the darkness, inside and out. Anyone else out there still shuddering from  memories like this?

Fio is quite upset about her vision appointment being cancelled with no explanation or substitution. That's no way to run a business. And yes, she cried and cried, something she's been doing a lot of lately. But in the meantime, she's also managed to reduce the number of notes on her three cork boards and should have the boards down to two fairly soon, which is good--unless this project also falls through....

Hip. hip. hooray! Daughter is going to help Fiorella get back into the cellphone game, etc., again. Remember when she was the hottest contributor on FB?😁

George, the large white Persian who rules the household, has just snuggled down beside your girl, indicating that Fio is supposed to stop her silly writing and go to sleep like him, so all your girl can say now is "good night." 😊

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time for One More of Fiorella's Meaningful Poems?

 

 

 

This poem was written during the Trump regime, but can apply anytime, unfortunately....

 

   America, bow your head in shame

Ethnic cleansing is the name of the game--

   Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown

Run gays and their kindred out of town

Ridicule the halt, the blind, the lame

And do unto those who sorrow the same

Jail the actors, the artists, the press

Silence the women and make them a jest

Reject the migrants or throw them in jail

Allow graft and cronyism to prevail

   In short, go after anyone who

Doesn't talk or think or look like you--

An automaton of self-fed hate

Which no force on earth can ameliorate

                              ***

Your Girl Is Having a Hard Times Emotionally

 When Fiorella came in from her leisurely daily walk, she was sweating like a pig. How can it be it the first of March so soon? Ah, well, guess it's time for Fio to pack away her heavy jeans and pull out her summer shorts--if she can still fit into them....

Come to think of it. she's going to have to add more than shorts and tops to her wardrobe. It's been a couple of years since she really looked at her closet, which is way too tall, and, at the same time, way too small for your five-foot-two/eyes-of-blue correspondent. 

 Fiorella is not in a good mood today. All the sorrows of her years are heaping themselves upon her at once, and she can't seem to disentangle herself from them. Also, the house has been far too quiet for far too long today. She wants to be active, to DO things, to have people around her that she can enjoy talking to, none of which are available now. Oh well, there's always tomorrow....or is there?

Your girl found one of her old Christmas cards, complete with art, poem, and chatty family information and, of course, she cried all afternoon. Why in the heck isn't she a recognized poet, artist, and writer? Why isn't she lauded to the skies?

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If anyone asked Fiorella what she would like to have for her birthday this year, she she'd say that the best gift she could receive would be for negotiations that would bring her family back together again.

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