Pant, Pant, Pant, Blood Pressure on the Rise!

Yesterday was an adventure. First Fiorella learned that she is on some kind of unopenable list Ford has, probably because she went ballistic when she discovered that the name of her late friend Sharon Kite had been used in Ford's Facebook adverstisement. (Mattress Firm used Sharon's name too, but Fio hasn't been able to find that ad again.) Then, as she finished off a couple of hours' work sorting through income tax stuff, Fio received a call from Discover regarding a student loan debt that Fio and Husband had paid off, lock, stock, and barrel, last week. Fio went into shock and lost most of her words, but managed to supply enough information that her caller is going to hold off on the robo-calls for a week while the situation is checked out. Then Fiorella leaped into her car and sped down to Starbucks to pick up her milk and chocoate chip cookies, secreting them it in her tote before joining friend Patricia because their meeting place of choice frowns on diners supplying their own fare. Of course, when Fio got to the table, she spilled the milk all over it and the floor. Friend Patricia whipped into action and saved the day with napkins and paper towels, and the woman running the cash register mopped the floor.

Fio hopes today won't be quite so adventuresome.

Notes in Parentheses

Fio was awakened once in the middle of the night by Sonia so her majesty could go outside and squat (note to self: make sure doggie does duty before bedtime from now on), then, a couple of hours later, by a GERD attack (note to self: steer clear of  the Hershey brand of hot chocolate and chocolate cake from now on), then, sometime after dawn, by Sonia insisting on going out again, but this time to bark back and forth to the neighbor dogs.

Why? Foggy-brained Fiorella looked outside and didn't see any deer invasions, but did hear a familiar grinding sound. THE TRASH PICK UP! Fio and Husband had filled the trunk of his car with trash bags last night, and she had volunteered to get up early and get it all to the curb before the disposal service arrived.

Suddenly wide awake, Fiorella tightened the tie of her heavy, floor-length red winter robe, shoved her feet into the nearest shoes available, grabbed the car keys, drove up to the road, hurled the bags of trash into the can, and wheeled it into place for the pick up. She probably missed the pick up, but at least the trash is out of the trunk of the car (note to self: better late than never, but try to be more attentive from now on).

It Happens

Fio donned the cute outfit she'd decided on the night before--white clamdigger pants and a red, white, and blue sailor tee. She loaded her tote with a Spanish book and the day's newspaper, in case the doctor ran late. She took off down I-35 at 80mph and made it to Austin with fifteen minutes to spare, depite the fact that it seemed to be big-truck and oversized-load day at the zoo, and was rewarded with a parking spot within spitting distance of the garage entrance. She hurried over to the medical tower, and the elevator whisked her up to the third floor. She identified herself at the desk. The clerk looked confused, then checked her calendar. Guess what? Fio's appointment isn't till Monday.

Manic Phase

Watch out, world!  Fiorella feels GOOD today! Two doctor visits yesterday, and both went well. Also, her cockamamie idea of buying a twelve foot long 4x5, having it cut into four-foot lengths so she could handle them and they would  fit into the back seat of Husband's car, then driving then home to use instead of rocks at strategic places along the driveway so the riding mower will have easy access (got all that?) looks like it will work. Also, when she and Husband accidentally locked themselves outside the house, she realized the only way they could get in was by removing the temporary guest-room air conditioner and climbing in the window--and since Husband's arm is still in a sling, she did the job, which was sort of thrilling. Her first break and enter!

Also, she accomplished everything on her lista yesterday (ayer), celebrated with two slices of Starbucks marble pound cake and a pint of Blue Bell without even have a twinge of GERD, slept like a baby all night, woke up today with the beginnings of a marketing plan for Phillipa's story, and feels Tony-the-Tiger G-R-R-R-E-A-T!

Cops and Robbers

Fio had an adventure yesterday.  While she and Husband were in the garage discussing his workbench extension, two black vehicles flashing red and blue lights send the gravel flying as they pulled into the driveway.  Fiorella walked out of the garage to find out what was going on, and one of the officers yelled "Get back inside!"

With images of a deranged psycho killer flashing through their heads, Fio and Husband sprang into action, closing the garage door and locking every other door in the house.  Then they watched out the window as a German shepherd led its handlers across the driveway into the wild area between their property and the neighbor's.  Was an escaped felon hiding there? Had someone reported a body? How about a snarling bobcat or a rabid dog?  Maybe that guy their daughter has a protection order on?

Twenty minutes later, the officers packed away the dog and zoomed out the other end of the driveway, again spraying gravel.  It didn't seem to Fio and Husband that the dog had found anything, but they didn't know whether it was safe to unlock the doors so Fiorella called the sheriff's office. The incident had been taken care of, she was assured, although her informant wouldn't any give her any details.  There was supposedly no continuing threat or danger, and Fio and Husband could go back outside.

But for some reason, they decided to spend the rest of the afternoon indoors.

On the Run

Buckle your seat belts because Fiorella is about to take you on a harrowing ride--her own.

She woke up a little late and hurried to get herself ready to drive into Austin and have brunch with Friend Evelyn at 10:00, then lunch with Friend Paula at 11:00.  But halfway down the road, she realized that although she had her laptop and list-for-the-day with her, she'd left her purse at home. Her purse--the little clutch that contains a small Kleenex packet, her drivers' license, her credit card, her insurance cards, several pens, and extra cash.

But, pressed for time, she didn't turn back. Instead, Fio drove very carefully and prayed a lot and reached Starbucks at 10:05.  But where was Friend Evelyn?  Come to think of it, had they actually set that date and time?

Fifteen uncomfortable minutes later--remember, Fio couldn't buy anything--she departed Starbucks. Where to go?  Maybe Half Price Books.  She'd sit in one of their plushy chairs and read.

But the plushy chairs were no more.  In their place were long tables.  Fiorella sat down at one of them  and opened her laptop--which a nice Japanese man hooked into wi-fi for her--and started working on her novella. During a pause, she read the fine print on a placard on the table and learned that the tables were for customers to sit down and read at, for book clubs to meet at, and book signings to be held at.

BOOK SIGNINGS!  Maybe God had driven Fiorella to Half Price for a purpose!

PS:  Although Fio ran twenty minutes late because she got involved in her novella, she did make it to lunch with Friend Paula.

 

Lurching in Where Angels Fear to Tread

Fiorella absorbed her mother into herself, as Mother did hers. Mother valued reputation, appearance, and academic success so Fio tried to live up to maternal expectations.  Determined to give Brother and Fiorella the Dick-and-Jane childhood she had missed out on because of an alcoholic father, Mother made her home into a warm, safe nest, which Fio also tried to do for her children.  However, Mother  hung back from the kind of challenges and adventures that Fiorella confronts head-on.

In that, Fiorella resembles her father. Tally-ho!

Stephen King Hotel

As Fiorella and Husband trod the Dallas hotel hall, searching for their appointed room, they could not help but overhear people through the paper-thin walls arguing with their stockbrokers, discussing plans for the following day, and placating their children. Once inside their room, they could hear every door up and down the hall open and close, every elevator ding, and every joyful group that passed. Soundproofing was not the name of the game.

That all changed an hour later when Fio tried to descend to the lobby to register for the writing conference. Another woman was already in the elevator and kindly tapped Fio's button for her, then got off a floor earlier,

Fio stepped out of the cab alone, not at the lobby, but on floor one. The place stunk to high heaven. Now, ever since reading The Shining, Fio has been somewhat leery of hotel halls, and this was definitely a Stephen King sort of passageway. Yes, Fio was all, all alone in a long,dark, deserted hallway that had just been painted and was illuminated only by big spotlights focused here and there on the ceiling. Tarps and painting supplies littered the carpet and the place was utterly, utterly silent.

"Hellooooo, helloooo?" Fiorella called, much as she does in Home Depot when trying to attract a sales clerk.

A bit of an echo, but no answer.

Fio, being a practical, semi-level-headed kind of gal, punched the "lobby" button. No response. Then she tried every other button. The elevator was dead. Fio was stuck on floor one.

Surely there was some escape. She tried walking down the hall to see if there was another elevator at the end of it. But the paint fumes were making her sick and the dark tunnel seemed to go on forever.

She retreated back to the elevator cab and tried all the buttons again, then spotted one labeled "alarm." Fio was saved! The fire department would come roaring in and Fio would be terribly embarrassed, but she would be saved!

Except that, even though she rang the buzzer repeatedly, no one responded.

By then Fio was wondering about that helpful woman who had pushed the fateful button that had sent her down to floor one. Who was that woman, really? And did this floor actually exist for everyone, or just for Fiorella? Would Husband search high and low, never knowing what had become of her until some hotel janitor finally stumbled upon her dessicated corpse?

Husband! Fiorella could contact him by cellphone! She punched in his number and hastily explained her plight. At least he'd know where to search for the body.

He suggested she open doors, looking for another way out, which Fio had been loath to do, somewhat afraid of what might lurk behind them. But bravely she emerged from her elevator cave and tried a door at the end of a little side hall, half-convinced that if she opened it and stepped inside, it would slam shut and lock her in forever.

Stairs! It was the door to a stairwell! Fio started walking up,up up. On the second landing was a door labeled "lobby." She was saved!

That night Fiorella couldn't sleep because of all the noise in the hall--for which she was very, very grateful. Silence isn't all it's cracked up to be.

It's In the Y Chromosome

Two boys were sitting unattended on a couch in the doctor's office. They were about eleven, big boys with soprano voices and baby bottom smooth jawlines, but pubescence was hurtling down the pike.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes, do you?"

"Two of them."

"I have three of them."

"Three of them?"

"One of them isn't my girlfriend anymore. She cheated on me."

"So you have just two girlfriends?"

"Three, but one cheated on me."

"I have more girlfriends too."

"How many?"

"Four, but one doesn't live here anymore."

"You said you just had two."

"I forgot."

"Yeah." Poke.

"I can beat you up." Poke back.

"No you can't. I beat up another guy once."

"I beat up two guys." Poke.

"I beat up six guys all at once." Poke, poke.

"I beat up my big brother, and he's fourteen." Poke, poke, poke.

"You know what? I've got a yellow belt in karate." Push.

"Well, I know how to wrestle." Push, grab.

"I do too." Shove.

"I know better than you." Mutual shoves.

"Better watch out. I'm tough." Continuous shoving.

"I'm tougher then you are." Throws weight on other boy.

"I'm the toughest." Heaves back.

Rough and tumble begins. Couch creaks.

The woman sitting across from them, the one who's been writing down everything they say, speaks up. "That's enough, guys. Don't damage the furniture."

Both boys look up, their faces startled and innocent. "Huh? We weren't doing anything."

An Adventure between the Acts

In the intermission after the first act of Austin's version of Die Fledermaus, I strolled into the lobby to take some medication. I retrieved a shotglass from my purse and filled it from the water fountain, then set it down on a table stacked with Fledermaus T-shirts while I fumbled for my pill box.

"Would you like to buy a T-shirt?" the very earnest-looking young man sitting behind the table asked.

"No, thank you. I just need to take some medicine," I said, breaking the pill in two.

I dropped the half pill before I got it to my mouth. "My pill!" I exclaimed. " I dropped my pill!"

I searched the carpet visually but couldn't see it anywhere. The young man, his eyes wide with alarm, stood up behind the table, ready to rush to my aid. "Are you all right? Will you be okay?"

"Oh yeah, it's just vicodin. I still have the other half." I tossed it down with my shotglass of water.

He looked at me in horror.

Taking mercy on him, I decided to explain: "I take half a vicodin after the first act so my legs won't bother me during the rest of the opera."

He continued to stare at me. I was getting annoyed.

"But if you find the other half, it's all yours! Enjoy!" I winked and double-timed it back to the auditorium.

Bet he had a good story to tell over lattes the next morning.