Episode of Enlightenment

Fiorella dropped by the supermarket to pick up Halloween goodies yesterday afternoon, and apparently everyone else in town had the same idea because H-E-B was crowded to the gills. We were all rushing to and fro like frenzied ants, but suddenly, Fio stopped and looked around. This was a store full of people, real live people, not an ant pile, and each person was his own indivdual--and Fiorella immediately wanted to connect with every one of them . She wanted to introduce herself to them, to shake hands all around and exchange life stories, to admire their children, share their sorrows, congratulate them on their victories, and encourage their dreams.

Not that Fio did any of this--you'd be reading about her being hauled off by the cops if she had--but it was a wonderful episode of enlightment. For several blissful moments, she was as one with every single person in  the store.

Precious LittleTime

Shock--Fio forget to post today, which is understandable with the schedule she's trying to keep. She raced out of the house this morning to meet with a friend at Starbucks--the same friend she stood up the day before because Fio was waiting at the wrong Starbucks--only to wait again because this time she was 24 hours too early. What else to do but drive off to the post office to buy Christmas stamps. The machine didn't carry them so she had to join the tail end of a l-o-n-g line. Bored to tears after finishing off all her physical therapy exercises as she waited (neck, shoulders, plies), she started talking to the people standing behind her.

The line refused to move, but Fiorella overheard a post office lady (who was moving up and down the line with a whip to keep the lions in check) tell someone that H-E-B sold Christmas stamps so Fio said good-bye to her new friends and sped on up to H-E-B, only to stand in a new line, this time at a register. Fio asked for nativity stamps, but the clerk said she only had Santa stamps, but that every register had a different stamp. Now your Fio was not about to spend her precious time standing in line at twenty registers to find out which one of them carried a stamp appropriate to her Christmas card so she walked over to the service desk and--voila!--the clerk had an acceptable batch of stamps on hand. Fio bought 100, which should put the national treasury back in good shape, then zoomed down to Hobby Lobby to buy more red ribbon for decking the halls, then drove home via Walgreens, where she picked up pildoras (pills) and a few Christmas treats.

The whole journey, Fio smiled a lot, talked to everyone, and even exchanged cards with a few other artist types. Yes, Fiorella on the roll is a sight to behold--and perhaps beware of. She is not the person her mother wanted her to be, but  Mother is long dead, and although  Fio feels her maternal love more and more every day, her strictures have faded away. Fio is Fio, and she will continue to devote every minute of her time to saving the world.

Buenos Dias!

Fio was exhausted from her list of morning-after-Husband-came-home chores when she stepped through the door of HEB, but she picked up her pace when she realized that she understood a few words from Spanish speakers walking by.  Nothing big, but enough that she was encouraged to ask the checker--knowing that the young woman might freeze her out--what the Spanish words for some of her purchases were. But the checker got so excited the she actually overloaded Fio with el espanol--which was the highlight of Fio's day.  Gracias!

Ins and Outs and All Abouts

Everywhere Fio went yesterday, she got herself into trouble.  She missed the turn to Mimi's Cafe and drove round and round Premium Outlets, stopping to get guidance from everyone she saw.  Later on, she couldn't find her credit card in HEB and had to leave her cart with the front desk while she went back to the car to search for it.  And when she got home,  she lost the new roll of Scotch tape she'd bought to affix her paper snowflakes to the window.  To top it off, that evening, her computer froze, and she had to turn to pen and paper to work on her Christmas poem.  But the words just wouldn't come.

However, she did finally reach Mimi's and had an enjoyable lunch with Friend Jane, she eventually found her credit card in her purse and reclaimed her groceries, and, after a thorough search, she found the tape and decorated the windows.  Then, this morning, as she was waking up, the key lines of her poem came to her, and when she came downstairs and pulled her laptop out from under the couch, Sonia Dog's nemesis worked.

All's well that ends well.

BOLO for Missing Tablet

The world must be coming to an end because Fiorella can't find her list, the list she lives by, the list that tells her what to do each day, the list that remind her of commitments, the list that contains her brilliant ideas.  She first missed it on Sunday morning, but she was pretty much couch-bound on Saturday so it isn't as if she left it in an HEB shopping cart or on the Walgreen's counter.  It has to be in the house, but she's checked everywhere imaginable--upstairs, downstairs, on and under every surface, even the trash bags (yuck).  So please, if you spot a small yellow legal tablet full of interestimg stuff, please contact Fio ASAP.

Appetite

A friend of Fiorella's announced that she is going on a sugar-free regimen, which made Fio think about how fortunate we are in this time and place to actually be able to pick and choose what we eat. She remembers reading about a Russian family, self-exiled into the wilds during some political upheaval, that survived on nuts, berries, grass, and small trapped game for three generations.  And one bad winter, the grandmother starved herself to death so the children would have enough food.

We are blessed.

Pleasant Visit

Everyone was so friendly in HEB yesterday--the guy at the deli counter, the woman behind the cash register, the woman who stopped to admire Fio's twelve-year-old Miata in the parking lot. Maybe it was that Fiorella's good mood was permeating the atmosphere, or maybe that people feel safe talking to someone with battle wounds. Too bad Fio didn't have any author cards with her.
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Thoughts from Day Before Yesterday

Husband just pointed out to Fiorella what he considers to be a gross misapplication of resources--a baseball player receiving a yearly salary of more than thirteen million dollars.  This is not only wrong in regard to real people, who toil for their daily bread, but in regard to the athletes, whose brief time in the financial sun sets them up for unhealthy lifestyles and unrealistic expectations.
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Have you noticed that schools are the major target of world-wide extremist groups?
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Fiorella went off to HEB to buy last-minute Easter stuff and a couple of replacement bunnies--it's hard to keep chocolate sitting around the house unattended.  While she was there, she ran into Friend Suzy MM four times and they clogged the aisles talking about their dying writers' league.  When she went out the door into the cold wind, she ran into Friend Carol M, and they also talked about the upcoming demise of the writer's league.  Yep, that sucker is a goner.
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Fiorella used to be a teacher, and she enjoyed it, but her real goal was to be a writer.  In fact, she assumed that was the real goal of every teacher.  Since then, she's learned that being a teacher is many people's end goal.  Who knew?

Steppin' Out

Fiorella got out for the first time since she went into isolation to complete the book, and it was glorious.  She stopped by the bank to deposit a check for one of her books, then kept her appointment with her INR nurse, who has read WHAT THE HEART WANTS three times already.  After that, she drove over to Georgetown High School and asked to see the principals' office because she's using one in WHERE THE HEART LEADS and want her depiction to be real  The principal and his people at the school were very gracious and will get a nice than-you note from Fio.

Next, Fiorella dropped by Starbucks to buy gift cards for the RWA raffle baskets and to look the shop over for another scene in her book.  Then it was on to HEB for a list of groceries and Target for electrical tape and Walgreen's for hair spray.

Four hours of go, go, go.  The rest of her week will be spent writing, writing, writing.

Fudge

Today Husband and Fio will make chocolate fudge.

It almost didn't happen this year.  Fio looked around just before Christmas, but couldn't find any of the familiar Famous Fudge boxes--all ingredients included--in either of the HEBs in town. Then, yesterday, she visited the giant HEB in Leander.

And bought the very last box on the shelves.

But, you ask, isn't it too late for Christmas fudge?  Not in Fio's world.  Remember,  she didn't complete her decorating till Christmas Eve, and the tree, the swags and drapes, the fake snowflakes, the creches and stockings--they're all staying up till February.

But the fudge isn't going to last that long.

Random Observations

The winter calves are dotting the pasture now, little dabs of orange and white lying in the grass beside their mothers.
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Men write with their gonads.  Women write with their hearts.  Men write sex as porn.  Women write sex as romance.
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The cedars along the road leading to the Gucci HEB are in full holiday bloom now, their branches laden with ornaments and tinsel garlands.
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Fiorella is always singing in her head, even if her vocal chords are not cooperating.  Fa-la-la-la-la-- la-la-la-la.

My Christmas Tree

Fiorella has hauled the Christmas tree out of the garage and started putting it together, first joining the three sections of its metal stem, then hooking the branches into its color-coded slots.  She and Husband purchased the tree at HEB for $100 in the days before pre-lit ones existed, and Husband has urged Fiorella to dump the old lady.  But Fiorella clings onto her.  She's big, at least five feet across, and tall, about seven feet, and her metal branches are strong enough to hold anything Fio--an infamous over-decorator--drapes on them.

So Fiorella straightens out all the tangled fronds and hopes for the best.  She doesn't want to replace her Christmas tree.  It's become a member of the family.

Seasonal Euphoria

If you run into a woman  rushing around the supermarket with a big smile on her face, c'est moi, Fiorella, and c'est her time of year, Especially in HEB.

Fio loves the cold weather outside, the noisy crowds of people inside who are buying the store out as if Georgetown is about to freeze over, the HEB elves and fairies setting up Christmas displays and restocking everyday shelves with holiday items.  She loves the way the air seems brighter, more exciting--electric, even.  And she loves the way chocolate-covered Santas and gold-wrapped chocolate coins suddenly appear, as if conjured by a Christmas magi who was passing through.

The Christmas season is in full swing--ENJOY!

Three More Snippets

Fiorella has a new theory about that still-missing Malaysian plane. She thinks it was drawn into another dimension, that the passengers are seed stock for a new world.  Maybe that's what happened to Amelia Earhart too.  (Anyone who wants to use that plot is welcome so to do.)
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Fio loves the intensely chocolate cookies that can usually only be found at the Leander HEB--which is the reason she doesn't go there very often.
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Now for a day totally devoted to revisions. It's embarrassing, but Fio has discovered a couple more holes in her book that she needs to patch up. And, by the way, please notice that what she was calling a "manuscript" when she was submitting it to agents, and a "story" when her agent was submitting it to publishers, she is now calling a "book."

Exult wth Fio!

Fiorella had a WONDERFUL day yesterday!  She went out to walk the dog in 65-degree weather and her whole body screamed YES, YES!  Cooler temperatures do that to Fiorella--instant invigoration.

Just before noon, she and Husband made their weekly trek to HEB, and the weather was still great.  Everyone in the store seemed to think the same because they all looked so happy bundled up in their jackets and sweaters--or maybe they were smiling because Fiorella, grinning like a jack-o-lantern,was totally over the top herself.

Hippity-hoppity

Chocolate is Fiorella's crack, especially if it's shaped like a long-eared rabbit.  She can usually resist Hershey bars and even bypass chocolate chunks, but rabbits--chocolate rabbits!

Bunny-wise, though, it's been a bad year for Fio.  She crowed about  buying six marked-down Russell Stover chocolate rabbits at HEB, only to discover later that they had crispies in them, which means Fio could not consider them to be true Easter bunnies.  After Son had taken the crispie critters off to work with him the next day, she went out and bought another set of chocolate rabbits, at Walgreen's this time, stowing them in the trunk of her car while she spent a pleasant hour visiting with Friend Jane.  When she got home, even though the day was cold, four of the rabbits had melted.

Yesterday. she tried Walgreen's again, but all the Russell Stover chocolate rabbits were gone.

Oh, well.  She'll try Target and HEB tomorrow.  Wish her luck.  Maybe she needs a rabbit's foot.

The Great Shredded Wheat Quest

You already know that  when HEB stopped carrying Fio's favorite breakfast cereal, Post's Original Spoon-size Shredded Wheat, Fiorella started making regular visits to Target to stock up on her early-morning crack, and she would buy at least four boxes at a time to be sure she didn't run out. (Thus are hoarders born, but that's another story.)  However, when Fio got down to her last box two days ago and Husband tried to replenish the pantry, the shelf at Target was bare.

Panic set in.  If neither HEB nor Target carried Fio's cereal, did that mean Post had stopped making it?  Would Fiorella have to switch off to Cheerios?  Thus when she drove into Austin the next day to meet Friend Joan, her secondary goal was to scout out a  supermarket that might still have a couple of orphan boxes of said Shredded Wheat on its shelves. But HEB drove driven out Albertson's and Randall's years ago so what was left?

WALMART! 

With breath bated, Fio entered WalMart's door, found the breakfast cereal aisle, and walked slowly down it, searching for the familiar bright red boxes.  No luck, no luck, no luck. . . .Was her quest to be in vain?  Would she be deprived of Spoon-size Shredded Wheat forevermore? But no!  Here the boxes were, at the end of the aisle!  Up high, of course, where they always are, but Fio is skilled at establishing a toehold on the bottom shelf and stretching her fingers to tip the boxes off the top shelf onto the floor.  She snagged five whole boxes,and would have grabbed the remaining two if God had just given her longer arms or two more inches in height.

Glowing with triumph, Fio drove home.  Yes, once again, the efforts of Fiorella Plum had saved the universe.  She lugged her paper bag (which cost 10c because the WalMart was in Austin) into the house, dumped the boxes on the kitchen island, and arranged them with military precision so the household males could gaze at her with respect and awe,  .But Fio had to take off for ARWA as Husband came in and before Son arrived.When she returned at about ten, Husband was in bed, but Son awaited her with a sly smile.

"Count your boxes," he said.

Fio complied and discovered that what had been five was now seven.

Son's smile broadened.  "I stopped by Target and they'd restocked."

What a relief!  Fio gets tired of continually having to save the universe.

Leftover Snippets

Fiorella strode into the grocery store yesterday and didn't even glance at the motorized carts, but a couple of months ago, she was the Ben Hur of HEB.  One thing she learned--if you smile real big, people don't mind you running them down.  
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We live on a death planet because everything that lives on Earth dies. Our vehicles are fueled with death and our fields are made fertile with death. We eat death and live.
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When one takes a painkiller, where does the pain go?

Down in the Dumps

Fiorella must be psychic because she received a note from her agent yesterday afternoon that Harper-Collins had also passed on Honeysuckle Dreams, saying its middle sagged. The editor also said she would look at the ms again if Fio revised it, which was hopeful, but puts a heavy burden on Fio right now.  She's still "in recovery" from the hip replacement, which means she moves slower, can't do things like climb ladders or walk up the driveway to fetch the mail, rides a cart around HEB, and has physical therapy three times a week.  And it's the Christmas season, which means she's working on her card, finishing off the Wendy book,  planning gifts, and must SOMEHOW get the house in shape.  The latter includes switching the guest room back from an invalid convalescence room to a guest room for Son and his wife, who will be here during New Year's.

Besides, she can't see the saggy middle.  Where?  Which chapters?

There are five more publishers to go, but Fio doesn't hold out any great hopes.  Oh well--there are always farmers' markets and garage sales.

Holiday Update

Fiorella messed up some tendons in her right leg and had to use an electric cart at HEB again yesterday.  She's gotten pretty good at it--backing up, cutting corners on a dime, allowing for the overdrive before the "stop" sets in.  The store was rather  crowded, but if you smile a lot, people don't mind if you run into them.
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Fio finished off the Wendy book yesterday and will take it off to Kinko's today to see what the techies can do with it.  She plans to have fifty copies made. She's also gotten everything together for her yearly Christmas card--the cover, the poem, the greeting, and Kinko's will be getting that too.  Watch your mailbox.
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Fiorella loves the green traffic lights and the red tail lights of the holidays.