Getting up to a Bit of Speed Again

 Happy almost Halloween! It's almost here, and Fiorella has paper pumpkins in her window and a parade of paper bats up and down the hall. Trick or treating is different these days--at least in our neighborhood. Instead of a contingent of kids going up and down their territory, about fifty kids and their parents go from block to block, and rather than pick up goodies, they admire the the ghastly set ups. Ah, well....

It's turning cold now so overcoats and heavy jackets will be the things to wear.

 Meanwhile. your girl is still trying to reserve a driver to take her to the Blood People and get her tested. Chariot, the organization that helped her before, won't take anyone unless they have a cell phone, which Fio does, but doesn't know how to use. She left a message with Chariot and hopes it works. ARGGGGGGGGHHH!

This surprisingly cold weather is somewhat surprising, especially because of the especially hot summer. Ah, well....one against the other. Does it means we will actually get snow this winter? And Fio without anything but tennies?

Your girl has one whole side of her bedroom wall plastered with everything from pieces of the Spanish numerals to pictures of the her favorite doctor's name to all her children's phone numbers, addresses, and birthdays. Then there are some of her favorite pictures and drawings, and everything else you can imagine. Yep, your girl needs a bigger bedroom.

She needs more room for her arts and crafts, sewing, library, files too. But most of all, she needs friends: people who would encourage her, bring out the music, art, linguist, and writer in her. How to do it?  Travel unt Geld.

 

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God        der Gott

 good      gut

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If you spot blood dripping down your girl's hand as she writes, it's from the cat--the one that loves Fio--who kept trying to persuade her to to touch noses the whole time through.

This is one of Fiorella's favorite of her poems, and she has probably posted it before, but it bears repeating:

L'enoi to "Blind"

      In the theater of the mind ,

      The unremitting reels unwind,

        Horrors ceaselessly replay,

        Obscuring now for yesterday

                In the theater of the blind,     

                 Eyes that see too much go blind