Coming Down to Earth

Hmm... Husband is hospitalized. Wonder if that means Fio and Sonia Dog are going to have to handle another set of plumbing problems all by themselves.
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Daughter's novio nuevo started un fuego en la chimenea para Fio, which elevated him to the highest level in her books, but it's los libros de hija that count.
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O happy day! Fiorella found the drone she'd bought Husband for Christmas! The bag was tucked away under a pile of clothes on her side of the bathroom, where she'd hidden it in preparation to being wrapped. She'd already seen the bag a couple of times when she was searching the house, but an erroneous memory of what the box looked like meant she hadn't recognized it. (Maybe tomorrow she can find the missing bag of birds and butterflies.)
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 Fio's palabra nueva en el espanol es deprimida (depressed). Wonder why?
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Speaking of Christmas gifts, Someone better not complain about Fio misplacing his drone when Fio has seen neither hide nor hair of the new chainsaw she wanted.

Chapter Two

Fiorella's euphoria didn't last.  In the later afternoon, she checked in on Husband again and didn't like the way he was breathing so she took his termperature--100.6. It sounded like pneumonia to her so she bullied him into the car and drove him to the ER as the evening deepened. After getting him settled,she drove home before it was too dark for her to drive at all.

A nurse called later to confirm that, yes, Husband did have pneumonia, but this time, the hospital had decided to investigate further and scheduled him for a bronchoscopy the next day.

Fast forward to today, the day of the surgery. Fio felt drained last night after coming home from the ER, and by the morning, she was even weaker. Daughter y su novio visiting helped for a while,  but Fio was definitely not herself. She couldn't think or remember. She couldn't find things. Her balance was off, she was soooo tired, and she needed to check on Husband, but before she could call the hospital, he called her to report in. Fio was relieved that he sounded like a new man, although no one will know the outcome of the broncoscopy and biopsies until tomorrow. Meanwhile, Husband was in quarantine so he wasn't inviting anyone to visit, which was a good thing because Fiorella was too tired to move. If the maid hadn't been there for the afternoon, Fio might have fallen into the fireplace. As it was, she fell asleep on the couch.

Now that Fio and Sonia Dog are all alone in the house, Fiorella feels like she's thrown off whatever was dragging her down--worry about Husband, a pinch of whatever he has, post-Christmas blues, who knows. Let's hope she can feel the same way tomorrow.

Fiorella Resurected!

As Fio has often said, she is a doctor, not a nurse, which means she has no aptitude for taking care of sick people. Thus when Husband is having problems, she does everything she can to help, but her first impulse is to tell him to tough it out--which is appropriate in some situations, but not in others, and Fiorella is not equipped to discern the difference.

Fiorella herself had a hard night and a hard awakening, but why should that stop her? She had a house to clean up, an important letter to mail, and a trip to Click Computer Repair to make. No choice but to grit her teeth and head into the mailstrom. So after checking in to make sure Husband was still breathing, putting a load of clothes in the washer, and picking up odds and ends in the den and dining room, she took off.

Getting away from house turned out to be  just what the--uh--doctor ordered. Fio's mood lightened as she drove to the post office and it bubbled over at Click, where she spent about half an hour laughing and joking with the guys who were working on her computer.

But it gets even better. On the way home, Fiorella decided to stop at Walgreens to paw through left-over Christmas chocolate. BINGO! RUSSELL STOVER CANDY BARS FOR 40% OFF!

Hitting the road again, Fio gobbled down a chocolate, which upped her energy so much that she stopped inside the driveway, picked up the mail, lugged the CHRISTMAS GREETINGS sign over to the car and into the trunk, reconnected the garlands that had become disattached, and took a picture of the scene. Then, after parking in the garage, she unloaded the sign, la computadora, and her Walgreen purchases, ate another candy bar (this time with milk to control the rush), greeted Sonia Dog, checked on the laundry and her still-sleeping patient, and started in on the house.

A good hour later, Husband awoke and called for her so she bounced upstairs and tended to his needs in between moving more laundry between the washer and the drier and walking a ladder into the bathroom to hang dry a large table cloth over the shower rod to dry. Downstairs again, she used the rim of a plastic cup to scrape white stuff off the dining room table. Now, quite proud of herself, she is sitting on the couch and looking around to see what she should do next as she finishes this blog.

Be happy for Fiorella. She is herself again.

Four Confessions, One Rant

Fiorella is depressed. Somehow, she missed Christmas this year. Maybe because she still hasn't finished her decorations, maybe because she wasn't part of the family dinner preparations, maybe because she's a year older than last year.
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One thing that is hanging over Fio like a raincloud is that Husband's drone still hasn't shown up. Fio will ask elder son where he got it and arrange for another one, but it upsets her that she can't find the original. Losing Christmas presents is not in Fiorella's usual modus operandi.
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Another thing that's bringing Fio down is that she missed out on a girl talk with friend Suzy G because she had to drive back down to H-E-B and pick up her libreta amarilla, which she had stupidly left in the shopping cart. Fio had been in a hurry, but how can she be so dumb?
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Fio's sort of overwhelmed. She has to make post-Christmas calls, take a trip to Click about Vipre, contact Mazda about Baby Car coming to a standstill, do her laundry, and get the yearly check off to church. Then there's the prospect of spending all of January getting everything ready for her accountant and IRS.
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Of course, the political news is far from uplifting. Trump's endorsement of the governmental shut down is, for all intents and purposes, an open invitation to the baddies to have their wicked ways all over the globe. But then, Trump enjoys chaos and conflict because while everyone else is engaged in attcking or protecting, he makes off with the loot.

Prospects and Reflections

While searching for Husband's drone, Fiorella found the paper-art piece she had promised her doctor, then lost. Hmm....it took a month for the art to reappear. Maybe, in another month, the drone will show up.
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Don't tell anyone, but Fio's still adding finishing touches to her Christmas decorations. Yesterday she taped miniature holly leaves and berries (cut out of paper, of course) to the sides of the stairs below the steps. Today. she's going to add birds and butterflies to her swag over the dining room window.
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New Year's Eve approacheth and Fiorella's only resolution is to finish that long-awaited WIP and maybe squeeze in another one--the Lord be willin', the creek don't rise, and la computadora minds her P's and Q's.
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Fio has finally realized that she is no good at big gatherings, even with her own family, that she's more comfortable with one-on-one or maybe one-on-two. Of course, if she's holding the gavel, she's the life of the party.
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Actually, FaceBook has given Fiorella a way to join a group on her own terms. She's part of a political movement, but can say whatver she wants to without having to answer to anyone.

Christmas Shorts

Interesting that Fio was sick for Christmas because that's what usually happened to her when she was a child in Ohio. She remembers lying on the couch in the front room as the quarantine sign went up on the door.
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Hoping to garner some appreciation, Fiorella is posting pics on Facebook of her best Christmas arrangements and compositions. The family is so accustomed to her magic that they don't notice any more.
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This year's Christmas sonnet seems to have hit the spot. Even the rampant Trumpsters liked it.
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The star of the show yesterday was Baby, who is now Toddler. She seemed to get an unholy joy out of ripping up wrapping paper and stuffing it between the boughs of the Christmas tree.
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Today, Fiorella is dedicated to finding that dang drone she bought for Husband. First off--oh joy--will be going through all the trash bags..

Christmas, 2018

Fio was so sick today, but, as she always tells herself, why should she let that stop her? There were a lot of loose-ends decorating and a lot of cleaning-up needing to be done, and who else was there to do it?
Daughter, lugging the makings of a Christmas feast, arrived in the midst of Fio's endeavors and took over the kitchen, moving to the dining room table when Fio finally had cleared it of all her birds, butterflies, twisties, ribbons, Scotch tape, and scissors (tijeras). Soon the guests began arriving, and Daughter and the other ladies set the table with the Fio's antique china and wedding flatware, then did the cooking, then invited everyone into the dining room, where "a good time was had by all." Afterwards, Fio and the other ladies cleaned up the table and washed most of the china. This evening, Husband and Fiorella finished everything off  and will put the china back on the shelves tomorrow.

Now if Fio can just find the drone she bought for Husband.

Pre-Christmas, Scene 2

Remember yesterday? Well, it got worse. While Fiorella, whose nose is running like a river, was going crazy trying to plan decorations and, at the same time, participate in family conversations, elder son took a flyer when his sweet dog greeted him so joyously that Son ended  up in the ER with bumps, bruises, and a fractured nose. Then, when Fio tried to hang her most favorite ornament, which was shaped like a slice of watermelon, on the swag across the dining room window, it crashed into pieces on the floor, which sent Fiorella into a swearing, screaming, crying fit. But it also sent her outside into the woods, where she walked around a while (spotting good firewood all the way), then sat down in back of the cedar she'd decorated with candy bar medallions for about an hour and thought everything out.

When she finally came back to the house, she didn't speak to anyone. She couldn't. She was still in shock. But she was also determined to get that swag started, no matter what. She did reach her goal and even sorted out the ornaments destined for a swag across las alacenas arriba la mostrador de madera.  In fact, in a couple of hours, she was fairly well back to what passes for normal for her. Then Son discovered that her baby car, which he'd been trying to put a Blue Tooth in, was dead, dead, dead as a doorknob and unwilling to respond to the standard remedies.

But by then, Fiorella was so emotionally drained that she didn't care. Her only hope is that by the Law of Opposites,this  Christmas is bound to be the best one ever.

Staggering Toward Christmas

Yes, Fiorella is running late. It's a typical day-before-day-before Christmas hullabaloo. The second that Fio discovered her modem needed rebooting, elder son's dog greeted him a little too joyously and tumble persued, with Son ending up on the concrete floor, face first. His wife has spirited him off to the St. David's ER, which must have volumes of records on  Fio's tribe by now.

Oh, and did Fio mention that one of the upstairs toilets decided to run and run and run? And that she accidentally knocked into one of her swags and a favorite oranament crashed to the concrete? And that judging by the number of Kleenxes she's used already this morning, she has a horrible cold?

On this (achoo, HONK) joyful note, Fiorella is signing off for the day.

PS: Pray that Son didn't break his nose.

Real Christmas

Fiorella's Christmas sonnet from 1986, when she was a young mother:

I placed the proper plastic on the door

And wound the newel post with ersatz holly

I bought some frosted cookies at the store

And ordered all the children to be jolly

I flocked the tree with simulated snow

And stained the mirror glass with cellophane

I stacked some carols on the stereo

And sprayed ice pictures on the windowpane

I listened to the store-front Santa's tale

My duty gifts are underneath the tree

My hundred slick-faced cards are in the mail

Signed "Love," with holiday sincerity

     The halls are decked with manufactured zeal

     But the Christ Child in my joyous heart is real.

Holiday Fever

Fiorella apologizes for running late today, but it's the holidays so she's in artist mode. The outside garlands are all in place so she's consentrating on the inside now. Pulling all the bags and boxes in from the garage took a day in itself, but she currently has almost all the swags up, including the double swag on the staircase rails. The stockings are hung over the fireplace in the den against a golden mantel--yes, Fio's making use of the Russell Stover chocolate wrappers again--and now she's planning a manger scene on top of the TV speaker above the mantel. Elder son and his wonderful wife, who are about twice as tall as Fio, are helping with the higher-up beer mugs and pajaros that Fio traditionally endows with bows around the neck, but Fiorella has been able to take care of the elephant collection by herself.

The wreaths are sort of in place, but, like all the swags but the one on the top stair rail, are not yet decorated. Then there are the several manger scenes to lay out, the little houses and the like to arrange on the buffet, and the Santa Claus collection to line ups on the shelves and table-tops.

Yes, Fiorella overdoes it, but the girl can't help it. Now, please excuse her because she needs to run outside and repair the garlands along the driveway that were pulled down by rough winds yesterday.

Merry Christmas! 

Ditty

Donald Sham
Worked a scam
On the USA
So it's up to us
To corral the cuss
And put his fat ass away

Decoration Art

Fiorella suddenly realized that the reason Christmas decorations are so important to her is that she sees them as art. Thus, she is only too happy to turn the hanging of the multi-colored lights on the twenty-year-old tree over to Husband, but will balk at anyone but herself hanging the multiple swags and decorating them. She also covers all available surfaces with set-ups and every available wall with decorated wreaths. The staircase, doors, and windows get decorated too, and you know what she's been doing along the driveway.

The worst part of it is that she's a perfectionist and will arrange and rearrange her creations until everything suits her artist's eye. The best part is the glow of fulfillment.

But Fiorella, Christmas decorations can't last forever. Does it make you sad you when they have to come down?

Not really.  The decorations are cheap and fragile so eventually their magic dims and I have to pack them away and load their bags and boxes onto the shelves in the garage. But there's always next year.🎄

She hopes.

What Fio Is Thinking About

Fiorella finally found the tinsel garlands she was searching Georgetown high and low for. That means the rings she's misplaced will show up eventually as will the Christmas lights that Husband can't locate. That's how the universe works.
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Oops, Fio mailed a Christmas card to friend Suzy in England without inquiring about how much postage she should use. Hello, return mail!
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Fiorella always tries to do the right thing, but sometimes it has been the wrong thing and sometimes it has been a stupid thing. Nevertheless, she perseveres.
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Fio probably got her wacko sense of humor from her Aunt Julie. She's the one who got a kick out of telling everyone that she picked up her new husband in the city dump. (Translation--their small-town city dump was where everyone ran into everyone else.)
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Just think. Those who opposed Hillary because she was woman may have catapaulted another woman into the presidency by voting for Trump. Viva la Pelosi!

Low in Energy

Hi, there. Yes, Fio is still alive, although at times, she wonders. As you know, she loves the holiday  season and is an avid decorator, often working up to the minute, then adding finishing touches while everyone else has visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, but this year Christmas will be more difficult for her because of the plumbing problems and Husband's hospital ins and outs. Luckily, Minnesota son and his lovely wife will be visiting for six days before they head off for her family's Christmas in Kansas, and Daughter will be ramrodding the kitchen crew here on Christmas day.
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Fiorella isn't a complete loser. She's put all eighty-some Christmas cards in the mail, has almost finished lining the driveway with tinsel garlands, and has only a few more paper snowflakes to tape on the front windows of the house.
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Still no clear plan of what to do with the fireplace mantel this year. Maybe it will end up paved with h gold candy wrappers like last year.
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The plants in the urns out front aren't doing too well, although the nursery assured Fiorella and Husband that they would last the winter. Fio will probably replace them with deer-resisitant flowering bushes next year.
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Between the weather and preparation for the holidays, Fiorella hasn't been able to go walking in the woods as much as she would like. She misses the trees and rocks.

Christmas Tidings, 2013

This is Fiorella's Christmas card greeting from 2013. See if you can figure out what is being said.🙂🙂🙂



                            Tidings

My schedule is too tight--I don't have time
Each Christmastide to to sound and count and beat
Reciting every year a well-turned rhyme
Replete with inspiration, form, and feet.
You know, of course, the truth of what I say--
Commitments ring me 'round like tinsel chain
Hung on a Christmas tree, and hour and day
Run faster than the current of my brain.
In truth, I'd rather have the time to write
Some gracious greeting, giving you my best,
To wish you joy, good health, your heart's delight--
My love to you and may your year be blessed.
     As I've explained, my time is much too tight
     So read top down, far left, to read me right.


Of course, being a serial critiquer, I'd now revise the next-to-the-last line to
"But as explained, my time is much too tight."

Ten Days to Go, Then BLAST OFF!

Hooray! After half an hour of hard labor, Fiorella finally got a picture up on the blog.  It's a photo of a cedar in the south meadow that Fio draped with tinsel garlands and hung with gold, silver, and copper-colored candy wrappers in the shape of medallions. What happened to the chocolate, you ask?  😁 What do you think?
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Of course, you realize that now that Fiorella's gotten the hang of it, the pictures are going to be more frequent, perhaps nauseatingly so, but the girl can't help it. Remember, art was her first talent. 😉
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Fio's hoping to get the outside decorations up by Sunday, which will give her eight days to tackle the inside decor. She knows the drill because it will be mostly as in previous years, but there are always surprises. 😦

Christmas in Action

Whenever Fiorella drives in or out, she parks the car for a while to string more tinsel garlands on the trees along the driveway. She'll post a picture once she's gotten the project completed--maybe a video. (WOW, Fio--you're getting electronicized.)
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Determined to buy some University of Texas paraphernalia for an old friend as a Christmas present, Fio braved the Drag for the first time since she graduated from UT, lo, these many years ago, and it was weird--the experience, not the gift. Everyone was so damn young.
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So far this year, Fiorella doesn't feel very Christmasy. Maybe it's because she's spent far too much time this year dealing with things like lightning striking the hot water system and her ceiling leaking. Or maybe it's all of Husbands' hospitalizations. Or her own various problems. Whatever, she has no choice but to move forward.
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That cedar in the south meadow that Fiorella decorated with the coverings of about fifty chocolate medallions didn't turn out as well as she had hoped. Maybe she'll give it another try after she has the garlands up.
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The best part of Fiorella's Christmas so far has been that her yardman gave her rock--not just any rock, but weird-looking one that he'd found in a field a couple of years ago and kept for himself because he's as crazy about piedras as Fio is. She felt honored by his gift and humbled by his sacrifice. 💓

Where Fiorella Lives

  This is a view out our garage of the driveway circling what our yard man calls "El Parke" in the distance. Fio feels blessed to live here. It's like wonderland every day.

Christmas Countdown

Hooray! It's been almost a week, and Fiorella's CHRISTMAS GREETINGS sign hasn't been stolen, which makes her think better of her neighbors, although it may just mean that whoever stole her campaign signs doesn't have a quarrel with Christmas.
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Speaking of the neighborhood, whatever animas Fio might have garnered by posting campaign signs seems to have been disssipated by the Christmas cards she's hand delivered and the tinsel garlands she's hanging across the front of the property. A neighbor has even promised her some homemade cookies.
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Speaking of cookies, your Fiorella has scarfed down far too many chocolate bars, cookies, Santa Clauses, and medallions this month. It was inevitable--chocolate addiction runs in her father's side of the family, as she learned at the Ohio reunion earlier this year when each one of her cousins was questioned as to his/her favorite sweet. 
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Fiorella hasn't done any decorating inside the house yet, although there are a few bags and boxes piled up in the dining room. Still in the garage are several more bags and boxes, including the Christmas tree, which only Fio knows how to put together. Then there are the swags and displays. And the starcase decorations. OMG--Fio, what have you wrought?!!
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Fio would love to post pictures of her holiday endeavors, but the technique still eludes her. She hopes that will change this afternoon when she attends the Georgetown library's Wireless Wednesday, which aids the electronically challenged. Wish her luck.

Christmas Wishes

Another Christmas sonnet, this one from 2007, back when Fio was using punctuation in her verses, a practice that is now frowned on by modern poets:

We wish you a Merry Christmas on this day--
May you have love and laughter, music, song;
May joy and happiness be yours, we pray,
And may God bless your comfort all day long.
We wish you ease and peace, a pleasant view--
May your home and family be secure;
May all your friends be loyal, staunch, and true,
Your heart be confident, your footsteps sure.
We wish you well in your endeavors too--
Your talents realized, your time well spent,
Your full and right reward, long overdue,
A just reward for your accomplishhment.
    On Christmas day, we wish these things for you,
     And that your Christnmas last the whole year through.

Looking at the poem again, Fiorella doesn't like the repeat of' "reward" in the 12th line. It would have been better to say "Would justly measure your accomplishment," But she forgives herself. 2007 was not a good year for her.

From Science to Obsolescence

You know how they tell you in physics class that a circle is composed of minute straight lines? Well, Fiorella totally rejected that theory, which is probably why she never went far in the sciences (although she did see the potentials of DNA before it went big.)
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The title of any autobiography Fiorella would write would be titled  Born That Way because--well--the girl can't help it.
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Fio doesn't believe in "the power of prayer," a phrase which intimates that God is counting the votes.
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When the time comes, Fiorella doesn't think her death will matter to anyone beyond friends and family, but she hopes her life will have had a positive impact somewhere along the line.
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Electronics have changed the social environment. Thus, stories Fio wrote as little as ten years ago are out of date. Sad.











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Christmas Card Reveal

Fiorella is in the process of mailing out this year's Christmas card so she's ready to reveal it to you now. It's a Shakespearean sonnet, of course.



                           Aspects

Christmas is a holiday of joy
When families gather around a bright-lit tree
To celebrate the Virgin's baby boy
And to enjoy each other's company
Christmas is a holiday of caring
Of tending to the sad, the sick, the poor
Of opening our grateful hearts and sharing
Our bounty with the beggar at the door
Christmas is a holiday of prayer
Of reverie and self-examination
A time to look within, become aware,
To plumb the soul and seek illumination
       A holiday of joy and caring and prayer--
       God's gift of love to mankind everywhere

Personal Stuff

Now Fio has gone and done it--she's jammed up her phone somehow so it won't let her transfer pictures to Facebook. Electronics, why do you hate me?
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Fiorella handed out Christmas cards to friends Lisa and Stephanie in the bank this afternoon. She also gave them each a little bag of Christmas gelt in case Chase doesn't pay them enough. Not that Fio's forgiven the big-deal Illinois bank for stiffing her $320, but she does like Lisa and Stephanie.
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Forgive Fio for being so tired. Husband is home now, but he's going to be on an oxygen machine for a while, which means that Fiorella is step-and-fetching and multi-tasking more than ever.
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Writing, Fio--are you doing any writing on those half-finished stories of yours? Not really. Aside from my time being taken up by all of the above plus the plumber, I'm still afraid of what the computer will do to my golden words. Once bitten, twice shy.
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Fiorella is itching to start hanging the tinsel along the driveway, but the rain, it keeps a-fallin'. Volunteers?

From the Mundane to Life Philosophy

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In Fio's never-ending effort to make her multi-tasking even more efficient, she tossed a morning pill in her mouth as she was chowing down on a Shredded Wheat breakfast. DON'T DO THAT! The pill melts in milk and your mouth feels yucky. Of course, Fiorella is writing this note as she continues to eat her breakfast, and by the time she gets up from el mostrador, she'll also have also finished reading the first section of the newspaper.
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Speaking of pildoras, Fio just realized she gave Sonia Dog her pills last night, but forgot to take her own.
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Things have been a little rough around here lately, what with the plumbing problems and Husband's residual pneumonia, but Fiorella is hell-bent to decorate everything in sight. Pictures will follow after Fio attends an electronis-for-dummies meeting at the local library--if she has the time to do so.
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Older son and his wife want us to have our extended family Christmas celebration early this year, which would mean I'd have even less time to decorate. Not sure yet what will happen.

I have fed on the earth my whole life, and when I die, it will feed on me.
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Aging, Aging, Aging

Fiorella's baby brother’s mustache is graying.  One of her friends is planning a facelift. Everyone is getting older—except for Fio, of course. (Although she will admit she is pathetically grateful to any young squirt who admits he’s forgotten something.)

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How do you know you’re all grown up? Stage 1: Teenager supermarket clerks quit hitting on you. Stage 2: They address you as “ma’am.” Stage 3:They start hitting on your daughter.

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Fiorella wants to be cloned so that her successor can do all the things she wishes she'd done when she was younger. On the other hand, she would want her second edition to keep the experience she has now—it’s been hard won.
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Fiorella is doing her best to make her ratty old jeans look presentable and the young'ns are doing their best to make their brand-new jeans look ratty.
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If Fiohas repeated any of the entries she's made before, please forgive her and move on. This season of the year, she's running around like a decapitated chicken--and yes, she knows what that phrase means. Her father was the designated go-to-guy for chopping chicken in his neighborhood when he was a kid. Yep, that's the way they did it back then.




Did Fiorella tell you that she made contact with the Woodhall family that lived across the street from her in Akron? God bless Facebook! 

An Artist's LIfe--Loss, Labor, and Triumph

Fiorella is very unhappy. In fact, she is devastated. She has lost an art collages she had promised to give her doctor. It's a simple, three circle construction, one of the few abstracts she's ever done, and she loved it, and now it is gone. She'd put it in a plastic zip-bag and taken it with her while she was shopping today so she could find an appropriate frame for it, and she thinks she got home with it--a plastic bag is pretty obvious--but when she finished putting away all her purchases and prepared to get to framing, the zip bag and its contents were nowhere around. She's search everywhere twice over, but the nutcracker doll is still broken. Fearing loss, Fio had had two copies of  the collagemade at Fed-Ex Kinko a couple of days ago, which means that it can be reconstructed, but Fio will always know it was a second edition.
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That outdoor sign that Fio is adding to her Christmas decorations this year is turning out to be a little harder to put together than she thought. Fiberboard, of course, is not an ideal medium to try to attach sticky alphabet letters to, but Fio figured that if push came to shove, she could overcome that problem with Scotch tape. What she didn't expect was difficulty coloring the stencil letters she'd picked up at Michael's. She tried red crayon, but guess what--they don't make crayons like they used to and the newbies don't cover well. Nothing to do but trot over to H-E-B and pick up the cheapest red finger-nail polish she could find.  Yep, for just three bucks, she now has the reddest, shiniest, weather-proofest CHRISTMAS GREETINGS around.
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The outside tree is taking a little longer to finish off because the two previous paragraphs, but it is going surprisingly well. All those metallicly decorated chocolate medallions, which Fio is using for decorations, are proving to be worth their weight in gold. (They've also contributed to Fiorella's weight, but don't tell anyone.)

FB, Cards, Sleep, Deer, Chocolate

Frankly, Fio thinks most of those feel-good videos on Facebook are rigged, but she doesn't care. Whatever reaches the heart reaches the soul. We need sweet fictions every now and then.
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Fiorella is thinking about posting all her yearly Christmas cards for you to see, or at least some of them. But she's been at it for a LONG time so a month and a half of Christmas cards would be pretty boring. Maybe she'll just show her favorites. 
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Sleeping all night clears Fio's brain  of distractions, and she wakes up understanding EVERYTHING so she grabs a pen and starts writing it all down before Dog or Husband come downstairs and distract her again .
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You know it's autumn in Texas when the deer carcases start appearing on the side of the road.
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Chocolate is Fio's liquor. She heads for her stash in the bottom cupboard to celebrate her victories and to console her herself when things go bad. (Interestingly enough, when questioned about their favorite candy, every one of her first cousins said "chocolate.")

Onward Toward Christmas, 2018!

Six silver cars in a row preceded Fiorella down the road as she drove to her doctor's office for her bi-annual check-up. An indication of good luck?  Fio thinks so--she sailed through her exam. On the other hand, the silver parade might have been because most cars on the road seem to be silver nowadays. And there you have it--Fio's sense of whimsy vs. her practicality, imagination vs. cold, hard facts. Yes. that's how your girl bumps along.
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DANGER, DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. Do not let Donald Trump grab the microphone at George Bush's funeral because all he'll talk about is himself. PS: Did you get a load of the eloquent letter from Trump to the Bushes? Really nice--wonder who wrote it?
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This blog has been running for ten years now and sometimes Fio's at a loss for a topic. Then disaster strikes and she has far too much to say. Translation: more plumbing problem$ and wishing this blog made money. Oh well, it pays its own way. Fio would go stark, raving crazy without an outlet.
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The mailbox decoration is up, the Christmas doormat is in place, and Fio's working on the big sign, the one that will probably get stolen.
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Question: Why do you decorate so much, Fiorella? Your mother always had inside decorations--snowmen candles and the like--and your father would hand a string of outdoor lights, but you go over the top.
Answer: Because I enjoy it. That's the long and the short of it. WHOOPEE!

Holiday Theme

Fiorella hauled down her carol book, turned on the piano, and started practicing for the big day when the whole family will gather around and join in the chorus--not that it will ever happen. When she was a kid, her family would often sing carols, but Husband and children vetoed the idea. Husband is a music devotee--but as a listener, not a performer--and the kids followed suit, even though all three of them have good voices. Daughter even took lessons for a couple of years and later was declared the best female kareoke singer in Austin, but as far as Fio knows, she doesn't even sing in the shower now. Of course, in the oldern days, we all got to exercise our lungs every Sunday in church, but no one, including Fiorella, goes to church anymore.
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 The weather's getting a little colder, and there's a rumor of snow later in the season. Fio will  believe it when she sees it.
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Christmas is a time for celebrating friendships and Fiorella had a great time visiting with friend Suzy MM at Starbucks yesterday afternoon. She will also be contacting friend Dorothy, whom she sees a couple of times a year. No friends like old friends.

Catching Up, Breathing Hard

Fiorella started working on the outside tree, winding red trim around its trunk to define a center line, and will probably start outlining the branches tomorrow. The decorations--all handmade--will come after that.
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Next, she drove over to FedEx Kinko's, where friend Dan put her card in line to be photocopied. While she was there, she rekindled her frienship with a former Fed-Ex employee who was visiting and met a local stage-set artist who had brought her creation in to be printed. At home, she got caught up with her social network and dodged a bitch-fight with the wife of a guy she went to school with. Sorry, Fiorella doesn't play that game. if you start attacking her personally, she blocks you.
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Then came the surprise arrival of Wes, who is fixing our kitchen ceiling--he had been trying to reach us all day and was only getting a busy signal so he drove over here to check that we were okay. This was a hard pill for Fiorella to swallow because missing our place in line means that we will have to wait longer to get the job finished. The problem turned out to be the phone which Husband had left out on the arm of the couch still turned on. Fio must remember to keep an eye open for the phones at all times, just as she has to be sure that stove burners are turned off. Grrr.
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At least the news got better and better by the hour. The noose seems to be tightening around Trump's neck.
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Oh, and Fiorella is also planning to put out a big sign--her fiberboard campaign sign risen from the dead--which will read CHRISTMAS GREETINGS! Let's see if it gets stolen too.