Cloning, Anyone?

If anyone asks, yes, Fio would like to be cloned. Born with a good brain, a gift for languages, and talents in art, music, and literary composition, she would like another chance at making good by proxy.

But she bets she wouldn't be the first one. With positive results from Dolly the sheep up through the Cuartetra 1-6 polo ponies, there's bound to be a rogue scientist somewhere in the world who's cloned himself a couple of humans. Wonder what DNA he used? His own? Hitler's? Take your choice. At least if Fiorella is cloned, you know she'll do her best to be worthy of it.

Fiver Again

Fiorella awoke this morning with her inborn rhyming machine going full blast. Watch out, world! WordS that hiSS are Swords!
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Minnesota son is coming to town tomorrow, and Fio will dump her electronic problems in his capable hands. He not only understands the digital world, but explains it well and, most important, is patient.
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Weekends are hard for Fio because she misses her telenovelas. Yes, two of them, La Doble Vida de Estela Carrillo as well as La Piloto. OMG, she's addicted!
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Fio was born limber. Not athletic, but limber, even in her hands. Thus it amuses her, when she is in the hospital, to slip the plastic ID tag up off her wrist. (Fio is also easily amused.)
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The family is going DNA crazy. It started with nephew Barrett and his wife, who infected Fio and Husband, then moved on to Minnesota son, and now has spread to Daughter and Austin son. But, truth to tell, it's more an indulgent novelty than anything else. A person is not defined by his lineage, but what he says and does on his own..

Tit for Tat

Recent studies have shown that we can blame Neanderthal DNA for our allergies, which means that Fiorella, who is currently the world's greatest consumer of Kleenexes, must be a purebred throwback. On the other hand, our Neanderthal DNA has also given us immunities that other humanoid groups did not possess.  And it is true that Fio is usually quite healthy.

Immortality

Somewhere out there is, or was or will be, another Fiorella, and, because DNA combinations are finite, the chances increase every day as the world population increases.

And somewhere out there is, or was or will be, another you.  See ya!

Drink or Burn

It's supported by scientific research now--Fiorella is what is called "lactose-persistent," which means that, thanks to a North European DNA adjustment, she's still swilling milk well into adulthood. Apparently a gene in her ancestry got altered because drinking milk is a compensation for lack of exposure to vitamin D in dark, dank climates.  No wonder her Galitzian great-grandfather was so vehement about providing milk for his children.  It was either that or his pale-skinned offspring would have burned to crisps.

Baby Hungry

Fiorella always pictured herself seated in a gracious chair with all her family gathered around--her husband, children, nieces and nephews, and, eventually, her grandchildren.  But such was not to be.  Her brother has no children, and Husband's nephew is only a few years younger than Husband. He did produce two nice great-nephews for Fio, though, but nobody--none of her children or the great nephews--have gone any further, and it makes Fio sad.

Not just for herself, because her DNA will be lost forever, but for her parents, whose line will come to a total end, and for her parents-in-law, whose surname will hit the stop sign.

Told Ya So!

Fiorella never bought into the idea that Homo Sapiens killed off the Neanderthals.  Instead she theorized they died off because of problems with crossbreeding, that the maturity or birthweight of the mixed-breed babies killed off both the mother and the child--or something like that. It turns out Fio was wrong in the particulars, but, according to the latest DNA studies, was headed in the right directions: a Harvard Medical School report suggests that the male offspring of a Neanderthal-Homo Sapiens had a reduced fertility rate.  Get enough of that going, and--well--nothing gets going.

Any other scientific inquiries you'd like Fio to ponder on?

The Yard

Fio has always thought that, given enough time, and she could do anything, a confidence that must be in the DNA because Aunt Julie once said the same thing about herself.  More to the current point, if Fio stares at a problem in the house or the yard long enough, she can eventually remedy the situation.  Thus in her former home, she spent a great deal of time sitting on the floor of the unfurnished living room until she figured out what to do with it.  And in her current home, she is staring at the yard.

The expensive landscaping didn't work.  Most of the plants died and the armadillos are running riot over the grub-rich imported dirt.  They're even tearing up the weed barrier Fio hired McHandyman to put down.  The future is obvious.  Fio's going to check out the prices on flagstones and experiment with putting them down without mortar in one of the planting beds.

Oh, Mr.  McHandyman . . . .

Personal Observations

Fiorella is a multi-tasker.  When she takes the dog for a walk, she practices her physical therapy posture, walking with her shoulders back and her chin up like a soldier.  When she eats breakfast, she also reads the newspaper and does the crossword.  And when she goes to the bathroom--never mind.
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When Fio studies Sonia's solidly-built Mastiff body and remembers the streamlined shape of  Wendy the Weimaraner, she wonders why she's constantly fighting her own body type.  DNA is destiny.
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Fiorella is one of those people who used to have migraines with auras, which means, according to Google medical news, she's destined for brain lesions.  And the heavy birthweight of her babies indicate she'll get diabetes.  To top it off,  cancer runs in her mother's family and heart trouble in her dad's.  Guess all that means she's gonna die some day.

Genteic Immunity to Plague and AIDS

Fiorella is excited and awed by the cracking of the DNA code.  It's being used to track dinosaurs and dynasties, to solve crimes and send the perps off to jail, to establish and prove blood relationships.

More important, it's being used to understand what each of us carries within us, our individual genomes. Every day, the range gets more amazing.  Apparently there's a lot more we owe to nature than Mann dreamed of in his philosophy, Horatio.   But then, we knew that all along--if dogs can have inborn personality traits and talents, why not humans?