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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