Fiorella was the wild child of the family, as her father once informed her. After all, she wore red Crocs in public, dove a Miata, supposedly ate steak so rare it mooed, dangled gypsy hoops from her earlobes, moved with the music in the supermarket, and sang along in harmony.... if she could find it.
Your girl likes fire so much that she put TWO fireplaces in the house that she designed....and she longs for it now, but (sigh) had to sell it when Husband died. I've heard that the new owners have cut down most of the trees trees. 😔
Fire is surprisingly fragile, which is what Fio learned when she had to spend half an hour with a long match, two short matches, the stove burner, a candle, and the morning newspaper trying to start a fire in the fireplace.
Nutrition is in the eye of the beholder. Every time Fiorella turns around, an old villain has been been redeemed and a former hero discredited. Thus red wine is in now and red meat is out.
Fio's maternal grandfather is supposed to have said that the difference between the Poles and the Galitsians is that the when a Pole makes money, he buys a showy horse, but when a Galitsian makes money, he buys a cow so the children can have fresh milk. (You can pretty well guess which ethnicity my family claimed. In fact, my father's father was so besotted with the nutritional value of milk that it is still the preferred beverage of not only Your Girl, but her five prenatal cousins.)
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
`
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment