ROCK ATTACK!

The rain had slowed down to a dribble so your untrepid Fiorella backed her baby car out of the garage, angled it so it was within a few feet of the pile of rocks that sweet neighbor Kathy had left on the side of the driveway as an Easter present, and loaded about a third of them into her trunk. Those rocks would put Fio several yards further up the north driveway. But more important, they felt good in her hands, especially the heavy ones.

You can say all you want about how hoisting heavy rocks makes Fio feel like she's she's doing something meaningful., or maybe that she's finally found a corner of this chaotic universe that she can control. But the truth is that Fiorella has become addicted. To rocks. That maybe everyone in the neighborhood has. Look around--we all have walls, steps. or patios made of local rock.

But are we using the rock, or is it using us? Could it be trying to control us from a primeval rock brain hidden deep in the bowels of the earth? If so, for what purpose? To rise from its earthly prison and take over Georgetown, then the world, just as it has taken over Fiorella?

Random Observations

Fio's been cleaning up the house lately in prep for surgery next week, and most of her clean-up has involved the tons of notes she's written since time eternal, some of the random wit and wisdom of which she will now regale you with:

Finally getting an agent is like learning there really is a Santa Claus.

I put off getting writing because I know that once I start, I can't stop.

I don't understand why doctirs are so particular about prescribing hydrocodone.  I've been taking it for years and never gotten addicted.

Wouldn't it have been better if Loughner had been forcibly medicated BEFORE he shot those people in Arizona?

When it's between people, it's etiquette.  When it's between nations, it's protocol.

 

Driven to Desperation

My name is Fiorella.  I am a computer addict, currently going through withdrawal.

Fio's Dell laptop (my precious, my precious) went down on the afternoon of her birthday, just as Son was sitting down on the couch to help her with Facebook a la Jane Myers Perrine's sage advice.  Husband hacked Fio into his computer so she could keep up with her blog, but she'll have to wait till she gets her machine back  from Click Computer to catch up on her email.

And then there's her manuscripts--what can she do if she's not writing on Princess of Bosque Bend and Princess Redlander?

Housework?


Oh no, Say it isn't so!

Cold Turkey

Has Fiorella ever told you about how she quit smoking?

Yes, Fiorella started smoking in her misguided teens because she was a very good girl and needed some harmless way to be wicked. Soon enough, everyone learned that smoking was not harmless, but Fio was hooked.

Until she had her wisdom teeth removed, that is. Now, Fio's wisdom teeth were very well-rooted, which meant they had to be not only halved but quartered to be removed in about a three-hour session. She was sent home with a bloody maw and some nice pills.

During the next week, most of which she spent in bed recovering, she faithfully took the nice pills, admired the pretty patterns of light on the ceiling, and stopped smoking because she developed the theory that cancer was caused by the tobacco mosaic virus, which could enter her body through the gaping wounds in her gums.

She was also afraid she might set the bedclothes on fire.

Anyway, one week without smoking, and Fio was cured. Although she sometimes still dreams about smoking just one cigarette.