The Closet Door

Sunday didn't start out well. The newspaper was missing the comic strip pages, and a call to the Austin American Statesman elicited the information that Fiorella that she lived in a non-redelivery area. Then came Daughter's visit. After dinner, which Daughter generously provoided, everything seemed to go well, but then it didn't, and Fio became very upset. She'd tried so hard to do the right thing, to make everyone happy, and it had blown up in her face. After Daughter left, she sat on the couch and thought everything through, then brooded over similar instances in her past.

But after a while, she went upstairs to finish off the  closet in her office, pulling out item after item that she'd stowed away in the closet when she and husband first moved in fifteen years ago. Her heart grew heavy again as she discovered canvases, craft paper, sketches for paintings never realized, family pictures, a shoe box stuffed with heredity research, and her doll.

Her doll. Victoria.

A golden-haired beauty who had been advertised on the back of a comic book, she was wrapped for storage in the crocheted snowsuit top and and the velvert lined coat Fio's mother had made for Nannette, Fiorella's previous doll. Fiorella remembered how she herself had spent hours designing and sewing a beautiful dress for Nannette to wear for her fourth grade classroom doll contest, which, of course, a Madame Alexander doll won.

All of a sudden Fiorella's childhood dreams swept over her and she grabbed Victoria, cradled her to her bosom and cried and cried and cried.

Narnia is cruel.

All the News That's Fit to Print

Fio started cleaning out her office closet and discovered she will never need to patronize Office Depot again.  Paper, envelopes, file folders, binders--she's overflowing with them. She also discovered that she'd saved copies of her home-made Christmas cards for what looks like thirty years back. All this and, so far, all she's gone through are two shelves. What wonders await her in the rest of her closet? Narnia?
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Fiorella caught Husband watching a television sensational on the Caylee Anthony trial and blew a gasket. Having shoved that whole horrible, disgusting, sick episode into a dark room of her mind, locked the door, and lost the key, Fio did not appreciate Husband asking whether or not she thought that lying slut was guilty.
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Younger Son stopped by today for a long visit and Daughter is coming by tomorrow. Nice.
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Has Fio told you that not only do we have a cardinal who attacks our dining room window, but a whipperwill who tries to keep us awake when we try to go to sleep at night? And a bobwhite who awakes us every morning, whether we want to be or not?
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Fiorella cringes every time she drives by the land on our boondocks road which is being cleared for new additions. She understands that people need homes, but what about the carbon thing and global warming.