Your girl didn't know that Christmas started in October nor that so many charity groups that she had never even heard of before her name would all attack her by mail at the same time. All she can say is that her waste basket is now a over flowing. She tries to be generous, but has her limits. Besides, she's battling a back and neck problem, caused by throwing herself on her bed while she's writing. (No room for a chair.)
Blessings on Fiorella: she is trying to neatly package together all the phone numbers, addresses, and birthdays of her immediate kin, etc, And it's taking more time that expected.
Hey, hey, hey! Fio's art skills are returning to full bloom bit by bit, but who is around to admire her creations? Son L is an artist himself (even has a degree!) so, although he's nice, your girl misses the oohs and ahs of the open season (which was locked away by Covid.)😞
Wondering if, when Fiorella finishes off the four by-five, she can safely hang it in the front yard to attract customers.
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GERMAN:
das Leben..... the Life "eh" der Tod......... the Death --strong "o"
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The rain was down to a dribble as Rafe walked Moira out of the museum and across the street. Backing her against her car, he went as far as he could go without being arrested for public indecency. God, he missed her, missed her so much he couldn't sleep last night.
He knew every inch of her now, but she was so much more than beautiful. He liked talking with her, laughing with her, watching her learn how to ride, listening to her silence.
God, he was horny. Maybe they could get together tomorrow.
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