Three Rescues

Facebook never lets Fio down. She's bringing an old manuscript (not the one you saw yesterday) up to date  and needs a replacement for a youthful Michael McConnoughey-type character so she asked her "friends" to bombard her with names of blondish male movie stars. And they did. Checking out pics on Google, she's narrowed her list down to three. Will let you know when she decides on the winner.
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Some other good news, if you're following Fio's telenovela. Gabriel put on a big perfomance and asked Daniela to be his novia (fiancee), and she now has a ring on her finger. This will be happy news for the Corseca family, which, with Tulio threatening them financially and both Abuela and Papa hopitalized for health problems, is in a jam right now.
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Husband let Sonia Dog out into the front yard while Fio was piling rocks into her little red wagon and, at the same time, trashing several loads of chainsawed cedar branches. Doggie trailed around after her for a while, then retired the porch to supervise. But when Fio, dripping with sweat, took off her heavy overshirt, Sonia sprang into action, trotted out into the yard, and whined at Fio to go back inside. OMG, since when did Fiorella's dog become her mother? 

WWWWW

When Fio gets to heaven, she's going to reunite with all the people she's lost touch with through the years and catch up with their lives, starting with Jannie Orchid (Janet Orcutt), her first childhood friend.
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When did "thoughts and prayers" come to mean that not a damn thing is going to be done about gun control?
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Why are the Arab countries at war with each other THIS time?
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Welcome to autumn. The sky is clouding over, the leaves are rattling down the driveway, and Fiorella can breathe again.
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WayMo, an arm of Google, is going to put a self-driving rental car on the road next year, just in time for Fio's next high achool reunion. Hmmm...

Adventures with Spanish

Oh-oh. Fio has run into the bugaboo of learning el espanol, that one person's Spanish is not another person's Spanish.  She looked up her order on Google translator, then drove down to Golden Fried Chicken and tried to ask for six chicken wings en espanol--seis alitas, por favor--and was corrected. Wings are ales, at least at Golden Fried. Maybe in all of Tejas.

Not that the guy was rude or anything.  He really liked the idea that Fio was trying to learn Spanish and told her to keep on using it, that she would get better and better every day.  Uno hombre bueno.

In the Know

Fiorella has a long-time habit of rechecking everything--Google news, Facebook, her blog, and her email--every time she opens up the computer, which is about five times a day and just before she goes to bed.  As she shut down last night, she heard herself say, "Nothing there.  I'm safe."

Yes, your Fio doesn't like surprises.

Outdoor Update

The past two days, Fiorella and Husband have been spending time out in the invigorating spring air chainsawing fallen tree limbs into fireplace lengths.  Fio's goal is to be totally self-sufficient for firewood next winter. Okay, she'll admit that Husband bought about half the wood they now have stored in those metal hoops out front, but she wants all augmentation to be from their own forest.
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Bayberriess, Fio loves you.  After YEARS of trying to screen the air conditioner system with supposedly hardy, deer-resistant bushes, Fio and Husband finally planted bayberries.  Three years in, and they're taller than the compressor units.  Another year and Fio will start trimming them so they'll fill in more.
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Fio finally gave in and hired a once-a-month yard man.  The only problem is that Fernando's English is limited, but your ever-resourceful  correspondent has found a solution.  She writes out what she wants to say, uses Google to translate it into Espanol, then reads it off to Fernando in the best Spanish accent she can muster  Que?
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Sonia is a serious-minded adult dog now.  No more running into the bushes when she goes outside with Fio and Husband.  She either sleeps on the porch or--well--dogs our footsteps.
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The sun is shining, the trees are whipping in the breeze, and everything is glistening with last night's rain.  Who could ask for better?

Annihilating Rats

The first thing Fiorella does when she comes downstairs every morning is attend to the rat-killin', the electronic necessities that have to be be dealt with before she can embark on the grand scheme of the day.  She starts with Google news, moves on to Blogspot to be sure her entry printed and is semi-coherent, lingers on Facebook to catch up with raves, ranks, and her own timeline, and then spends a fair amount of time on email.

And the reason she used the term "rat killin'" is that she's practicing it for dialogue in WHERE THE HEART LEADS.

In Hot Water

Just in time for the national RWA conference at which Fiorella wants to prance around like a prize pony, her left foot--to be precise, the TOP of her left foot for about three inches above the toes--is giving her holy hell.  She's tried consulting Dr. Google, but hasn't gotten a clear diagnosis. Husband made her an ice pack, which didn't work, so Fio fixed herself a steaming hot water bottle.  If it doesn't work, she'll be setting up an appointment with her PCP.  If it does work, she's in a bind--how can she strut her stuff at the conference with a hot water bottle strapped to the top of her left foot?

Oops, Fio just accidentally burned herself with the hot water bottle.  At this rate, she'll end up going to the conference in a full body cast.  BUT SHE WILL GO!

Fio-strodamus

Years ago Fiorella wrote a sweet little horror story that she set in an imaginative era of driverless cars.  Now, according to what she's reading, driverless cars are upon us, courtesy of . . . Google.

Hmm, what about that other futuristic stuff Fio has thought up, like all babies being cloned because medical advances allowing people to live forever in prime physical shape?

Of course, there's more to that story.

To Subscribe or Not to Subscribe

Should Fiorella continue subscribing to the newspaper or not?  She isn't interested in sports, never reads the entertainment section, and ignores ads.  And she could get the comics and her fix of national and international news on Google.

On the other hand, Fio likes reading stuff on paper, and she'd miss out on the screwball vicissitudes of Texas politics.  And she'd  miss the anagrams too--which are more decipherable than the politics.

Hello, Starbucks!

Two soaks in the tub last night.  In and out of bed, and in and out of bed, and in and out of bed.  Watching TV and trying to read.  Yet Fiorella still couldn't sleep.  The internet is down in Casa Fiorella and how can Fio survive without email, Google, and Facebook?  Yes, Fio has a communication addiction to feed.  

Neither Husband nor ECPI seem to be able to fix whatever the problem is so Fio's last hope is Son, who's coming over this evening.  Wish us well because otherwise Fiorella's going to be establishing permanent residence in her local Starbuck's, where she is now sitting and keying in this message.

UPDATE:
Hooray!  We went back on line suddenly right after Fiorella returned home from Starbuck's, but we're not sure what happened.  Husband's theory is that ECPI's signal was too weak and someone finally amped it up.  Fio's theory is that the house electronic systems realized that if they didn't get on their game, Fio and Husband would be taking all their business to Starbuck's.

Whatever.  The internet is running and Fio has all sorts of things (yawn) to do, but she's a little worn out (yawn) from her sleepless night so she thinks she'll lean back for a moment and--zzzzzzzzzz . . . .

Up All NIght

Fiorella's circadian rhythm is screwed: she couldn't sleep last night.  The night before, she slept more than ten hours as opposed to her usual six (plus a few naps during the day) so she paid for it last night by not being able to sleep at all, despite moving from the bedroom to the futon in the study to the couch in the den (television on, then television off), then back to bed again.  She gave up at 4:45, dressed, consulted Dr. Google, and decided to write this blog so everyone will know that if tomorrow's blog doesn't get posted till afternoon, it's because she's crashed at last--and deservedly so.

Meanwhile, think supportive thoughts in Fio's direction because she has to do a fair amount of driving today.

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Wanted: Sweet Dreams

Fiorella has been having problems with insomnia lately.  Not the good kind, the Hollywood kind which keeps you up all night writing brilliant novels or composing breathtaking music, then lets you sink into slumber as the candle gutters down and dawn leaks through the latticed window.  No, Fio has the kind that sends her from bedroom to den and back again and again, pillow under her arm, with sidestops along the way for a long, hot bath and to pick up some books that might make her drowsy.  In every location and variation, she tries to will herself to sleep, which only seems to keep her more awake.  Pills, stupid TV shows--nothing helps.

It's time to call in the big guns: she'll consult Dr. Google.

Right Eye

Fiorella's right eye had been watering all day and she woke up in the middle of the night with sticky eyelashes.  She felt sort of odd too, like she might have a temperature.  This called for a consultation with a fever thermometer and  Dr. Google.

Fio couldn't find the thermometer, but, according to the good doctor, she has an eye infection, possibly pink eye, which means she's going to be off to the ophthalmologist's office as soon as it opens.

Think good thoughts to Fio's right eye.  It's the seeing one.

Eclectic Snippets

Like Dolly, Fiorella's back in town.  Not that she was actually gone, just knocked off the internet till about noon today, which drove her crazy.  No Google news, no e-mail, no blogging.  For someone who calls herself a Luddite, Fio is mighty computer-dependent.
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Looking at the pictures Son took of her, Fio realizes she doesn't really look as good as she thinks she does.  But then, she never did.
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Between the elections and the Longhorns, Fio's going to retreat into her snail shell for the duration.
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What would Fio do without friends?  Tomorrow she's going to have lunch with Joan, and last week she lunched with Sharon.  Last night she wrote a long email to Suzy in England to bring her up to date.  Paula has stood by her for years.  Katie, Janece, and Jane have cheered on her literary aspirations, and Marion even read an early copy of P of BB.  Fio's sure to have left someone important out so please forgive her because she loves you all.