Not A Born Gardener

Fiorella, thy name is Adventure, or maybe MsAdventure. The bayberries on the north side of the house, which she had hoped would be a solid wall of green by now, were ragged and scraggly so she bought a bottle of insecticide at the garden store, hooked it up to the front hose, turned on the faucet, and sprayed everything sprayable. Maybe a few things too many, like the red-tipped fotina, because when Fio staggered back around the flastone path to turn the faucet off, she accidentally brushed the top of her head aganst the low-hanging branches of the fotina, which meant that, according to the instructions that came with the insecticide, she had to take a shower.

A shower? Fiorella take a shower? Sacrilege! Fio is strictly a bath girl. On the other hand, there was no way she was going to let insecticide swim around in the tub with her, so, for the very first time since college, she used the overhead.

Bayberries, do you know what Fiorella has gone through for your sake? Do you appreciate her sacrifice? Heal, damnit!
 

Honk!

It's almost Christmas so, reverting to her childhood, Fiorella is sick.  Not the scarlet fever or chicken pox of her youth, but a sinus infection--just enough to make her miserable.  She got up at four this morning and ran a hot bath to warm herself and press a hot washcloth against the side of her nose so she could breathe.  Today will be a chicken-rice-soup and hot-water-bottle day.

Experiencing

Despite being an artist, Fiorella doesn't get a kick out of sight-seeing.  Thus, when Fio and family visited Britain, she wasn't that interested in looking at Big Ben or antique castles.  Instead, she wanted to experience the country. To stand on top of Hadrian's wall and call on the spirit of her old Latin teacher, Elor Osborn. To stop at a British Safeway and go through the aisles, then buy sliced ham at the deli, to walk through the doors of Harrod's and check out every department, to drive down a suburban street and see how people lived, to be walking through the tunnel under the Thames at the same time a herd of screaming school children were running through it, to eat fish and chips under the awning of a store in Greenwich and again, in the rain, in a little park in front of the Assembly Rooms in Bath.  To be kept awake until after midnight by a tenor singing out a window in Edinburgh.

These are her fondest memories of Britain.

Aftermath

Fiorella and Husband woke up grumpy and in pain.  Every tendon in Fio's body had tightened up as she slept, and her nose wasn't working right.  She didn't want to take a hot bath because, as enjoyable as it would be, hot baths innervate her, and she has lots to do today.  Husband is having a problem with thigh muscles, shoulders muscles, and biceps pulling.

Easter is over.  Must be chocolate withdrawal.

Act Now!

When she goes to an opera or a musical, Fiorella wants to sing along.  She'd rather write books than read them.  And her favorite part of the trip the family took to England years ago was walking through Harrod's, turning her ankle at Castle Urquhart, eating fish and chips in the rain at Greenwich and again at Bath, and encountering a group of exuberant school children yelling for echo effect as they ran through the tunnel under the Thames.

For all her artistic eye, Fiorella is a doer rather than an observer.