Fiorella's Ever-Annoying World

 Fiorella's her new computer won't let her save revisions, and her cell camera won't let her transfer photos onto Facebook. Now do you see why she doesn't trust electronics?
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It's offical--the daddy-long-legs spiders adore us, but it's not as cute as it sounds. They've built huge colonies on the ceiling and down the walls of the front porch.
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If Trump is such a germaphobe, how come he was all over KJU?
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What happened to that "cut" that Fiorella tried to transfer? Is la computadora working against Fio again? It only makes sense because, all of a sudden, the camera in her phone has revived itself. Apparently, Fio is allowed only one working electronic device at a time.
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Fiorella is hoping the next big advance in IT technology is a self-feeding computer. She's tired of carrying an awkward roll of power cord with her when she has to go upstairs or move into another room.

Electronics Can Be Evil!

Fiorella is angry. Fiorella is mad
Because Isadora is acting bad
Or maybe it's not the computer at all
But Windows 10, it's natal install
Whatever the problem, it better go
Beacuse your Fio's about to BLOW!

ENOUGH, ALREADY!

IT'S LIKE FIORELLA IS BEING STYMIED AT EVERY TURN. She left her purse at home when she drove to Austin to have brunch with friend Evelyn and ended up having to to mooch off her. She spent an hour trying to get a pop-up off her computer screen and finally had to drive over to Click Computer Repair for Travis to push two buttons (that she swears she had already tried) to make everything right. And she's dealing with some banking problems with Chase, which owes her big time for the crap it's put her through. Also, her phone won't let her posting pics on FB. And she had a horrible time emailing a couple of chapters of Lolly's story to a friend. And, to top things off, Colbert is on vacation AGAIN!

ALARM BELL!

Now that computers can perform every task from the magnificant to the mundane,  human beings are becoming increasingly obsolete.

And speaking of computers, Isadora really pulled a number on Fio, refusing to produce what Fiorella assumed had been saved the previous evening, Yours truly went ballistic all over FB, screamed enough to wake the dead, shouted no-no-no several hundred times, threw her shoes across the room, then picked them up and threw them again, after which she cried a lot and went into a a deep, angry depression.

Something must be done about Isadora. She is too complicated. Things that took one tap of a key on Dora take three steps or more on Isadora. And everytime Fio tries to write, unwanted suggestions are hurled at her. Besides, she guzzles power and always seems to be out of gas.

Fiorella was thrilled to be able to buy a computer similar to her old one, but too many bells and whistles have been added.

Target Check-out Line Incendiary

Watch out--Fio is always listening in, and yesterday it was at the Target check-out counter.  Her ears perked up as the clerk behind the register and a customer started discussing the 23-year-old who'd blown himself up after terrorizing Austin with self-made bombs.

"He was home-schooled," the customer said, and Fio nodded to herself. Far too often, home schooling is a way to mis-educate children into a singular world viewpoint or a dodge for parents who don't want anyone to know what's going on in the family. But just as Fio was about to add her two bits, the customer elaborated, "My daughter teaches high school and she said these kids today--they're nothing."

If Fio had been a fire log, she would have burst into flame. This woman's daughter is a teacher, and damn it--if the kids in her classes are nothing, then it's HER job to make them SOMETHING!

Anger and Violence

About the guns--Fio has read that psychologists say anger, not mental health problems, is what triggers violence, and she can believe that from her own experience.

When Fiorella was in junior high, she walked to school because, as you will remember, her mother didn't drive. Most of the time it was no problem because the school was only about five blocks away, the weather was mild, and there were a few other kids walking too. But one horribly stormy day, as cars full of warm, dry schoolkids driven by their mothers splashed by her, Fio was the only one walking. By the time she got to school, she was so furious that she would have taken out the populace if there'd been an assault rifle available. When her social studies teacher tried to find out what was going on, Fio said she was angry that FlyTaff, a government installation on her way to school, was crowding the sidewalk with its parking. But actually, she now realizes. was angry at her mother.

In A Bad Mood

Facebook  is driving Fiorella crazy. After a couple of months of allowing Fio's photos to be easily transferred onto Blogspot, it is now refusing to do so, and that is why you are NOT seeing a portrait Fio did of her Uncle Al years ago. Fio is angry because she had posted the painting on FB specificably in order to copy it over to Blogspot, the only pathway she has found. Fio is also angry because she's on a cedar-cutting binge, but is having problems with her chainsaw, the chain of which, despite Husband's valiant efforts, is always too tight or too loose. And she's also angry because she's not over her stupid cold yet.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Eulogy for Us All

Fiorella was numb at first, in shock, sick at the heart, but now she's angry. She's angry at the weapon makers for overproduction. She's angry at the NRA for its power grab. She's angry at legislators who have been paid off. She's angry at broadcasters who feed their audiences with conspiracy theories. She's angry at TV shows and movies that glamorize combat. And she's angry at herself that she can't somehow stop the madness.

Why do people kill each other? Why are they even mean to each other? Why do they make up stories about each other? Can't we all live in harmony and mind our own business? Can't we all help each other, value each other, enjoy each other?

Fiorella's goal for her earthly existance is to make the world a better place. That's why she writes novels about women who overcome extreme difficulties. That's why she expresses herself about the state of the nation on Facebook. That's why she tries to be a good friend and the best mother in the world. That's why she smiles all the time. Sure, she doesn't always have something to smile about, but there's always tomorrow.

But for the people who were killed in Las Vegas, there is no tomorrow. Fiorella is angry.

No Fair!

Fiorella needed an operation to help her see better and stop her lashes from irritating her eyes, and her Austin ophthalmologist, Dawn Buckingham, had set the surgery up for February 9. When the surgery information came in the mail, Fio read it through and jumped through all the required hoops--getting checked out by her PCP, then seeing her INR nurse, who filled out a full page of instructions for her because Fio, who has an artificial heart valve, uses warfarin.  The final stop was Fio's cardiologist, who smiled at her and gently delivered the death blow--she couldn't have the surgery because it was too risky for her to go off anti-coagulants for eight days, like the ophthalmologist required.

Fio went into shock. Why had Dr. Buckingham, who had access to all Fio's medical records, led her down the garden path?  Why hadn't Fio's primary care doctor or said something? Why did her INR nurse make up a full-page chart, the let the cardiologist drop the blow?

Fio is angry. Why her? She is a nice person, a giving person, someone who works hard, who takes care of everyone, who puts up with a lot of crap, who wishes everyone well, even Donald Trump. She deserves better.

Armed for Christmas

WARNING: This is not Fiorella's usual joyful Christmas message because she is deeply concerned about the state of the world, her country, and her family. Her children are going through perilous passages in their lives, her country has turned itself over to an out-and-out crook, and her world is being rampaged by madmen who use religion as an excuse to kill and destroy. Ignorance is celebrated. Corruption is the name of the game. Hate and anger ride the air waves.

Where are laughter and fellowship? Where are goodness, mercy, honesty, and compassion? Where is love? Fio can only pray that God will prevail, and she hopes you will also.

Fiorella Wants Her Card Case Back!

Fiorella is very upset, screaming upset, crying upset, cursing upset, throwing things upset, questioning God upset. Her card case, the one she got at the New York RWA conference in 2015, the one that has her two credit cards in it as well as her business cards, is gone, gone, gone. She and Husband had bought a few groceries at H-E-B yesterday evening, and apparently when they took them to the car, she put her precious card case in the tray of the small cart they had used, then did not retrieve the case when she parked the cart back at the store. She realized what had happened fifteen minutes later and drove back to the store, but no one had turned in her card case. She is now offering a $100 reward for its return.

Why is this happening to Fiorella? She is a good person, a nice person, someone who works hard, who gives and gives an gives, who pushes herself to do better every day in every way, a person who prays for others, who tries to help others, who puts up with a lot of crap, who has the patience of Job. But every now and then she cracks, and this is one of those times.

And she asks again--why, God?  Doesn't Fio have enough on her back right now?

Politicians Don't give a Damn about Real People

Actually, there is someone Fiorella hates, and he's dead--Ronald Reagan.

Fio started out liking Ronnie because he seemed to be, well, a likable kind of guy, so when Son, a devotee of TV news, asked her to mail a letter to him (Son was against something or other), she thought it would be a good civics lesson. To play it safe, she added the information to the bottom of the crayoned letter that Son was seven years old.

Fio, being naive, assumed all letters to the President were answered in some way or another, if just by a mimeographed "thank you for writing" so she watched out the window with interest as day after day, Son ran out to the mailbox for Reagan's reply.

But it never came.

And Fiorella's heart broke for Son's loss of innocence and her own..

Lament

Back to the weeping all the time--while driving, in the doctor's office, at home, at Target, wherever, because Fiorella is afraid. Having lived a life littered with unexpected hurdles and many black pits, Fiorella is the queen of what-if, and everything she pictures as the aftermath of the election is scary. Fiorella's angry too. Those who took the high road are being vilified while those who took the low road have been uplifted and glorified.

Where is God?

Empowerment

Fiorella is moving into another stage of grief--anger. She's angry at what happened, angry at people who derided her sorrow, and angry at her own helplessness. But, as friend Shiloh Walker pointed out, Fio is NOT helpless--she can write. So this afternoon Fio finished the third revision of her work-in-progress, decided to self-publish a book that's been sitting in her documents pages for way too long because it was considered too "daring," and plotted out a book about a woman who is flaming angry--like she is.

Restored

Fiorella has been in a very stressful situation lately which has resulted in her boiling over with anger, not being able to sleep, running around like a chicken with her head cut off--the works--so today she took the afternoon off and put up her Halloween decorations.  A big metal jack-o-lantern went on the wrought iron table in the yard, paper pumpkins were stuck to her front door and selected side windows, and a swirl of cardboard bats were arranged so they moved from one front window to the next one. In addition, a small plastic skeleton now hangs from the mailbox (buzon) out on the road (camino).

And Fiorella is happy.

Fio Loses her Cool

Fiorella is usually the one who keeps her head while all about are losing theirs, but yesterday she blew her stack in public--in Georgetown's St. David's Hospital, of all places.

Husband had undergone shoulder replacement surgery, which went well, and Fio was moving back and forth between the hospital and and house, carrying a tote containing her laptop, a full bottle of water, her manuscript, her purse, a notepad, and a newspaper.  It was a  heavy load so she always tried to park near the hospital door, but by afternoon, she had to park at the cancer clinic next door. She was wearing down--getting up at 4:30 am and hurrying to and fro in the hot sun does that to you--so she asked the woman at the front desk to watch her tote for her while she retrieved her car and drove it to the hospital entrance.

The woman gave her a stony look and said she couldn't be responsible for personal property.  Fio explained that her car was around the other side in the cancer parking lot, but the woman just repeated that she couldn't be responsible for personal property.  Fio asked where she could take her tote that someone would watch it while she fetched her car .  The woman said, "Nowhere."

Fio was flabbergasted--and cornered. The boiler exploded and her words came out at a volume she hasn't heard since she trod the boards. Picking up her tote, she turned toward the whole room and yelled, "This hospital has inadequate parking and it will be responsible if I collapse on the pavement and die! F*** YOU!"

Then she staggered out and began her trek, taking breaks every ten steps or so to sit on the decorative boulders and get her breath.

She made it, obviously, but her bad hip hurts and she still doesn't understand what happened because the women at the desk earlier in the day had been willing to watched her tote while she got her car.

Whatever, Fio has a feeling she's going to be called to the principal's office and be told it was all her fault.

On the Upswing!

Fiorella had quite an invigorating Facebook conversation yesterday.  In fact, it was a debate which her opposition tried to turn into a brawl. Ross, whom Fio knew from a writing group she once belonged to, had been posting garish anti-Hillary posters accompanied by Trump-type slurs. Fio was planning to unfriend him on the third time around, but decided at the last moment to talk to him, to try to calm him down a little.  But he came out swinging, justifying himself by saying that he and his partner lived in fear that Christian fundamentalists would kill them at their upcoming wedding, that his son was in the hospital because the police had shot him three times, and that he suffered from several debilitating physical conditions.

He also attacked Fio personally. She, of course, had the urge to hurl every epithet back at him and then some, but managed to stay cool.  This man had once been a friend, and she wanted to help him. Not to change his vote--he's an undying Sanders fan--but to soothe his anger. After a couple of back and forths, with him getting angrier and angrier with each exchange, she asked him why, since he didn't like Trump any more than Hillary, he hadn't put up any negative postings about The Donald. Could it be because Trump is male and Hillary is female?  Ross's answer was an explosion of upper-case vituperation, but Fio stayed cool as a cucumber, then played a hunch and asked him if Hillary resembled some woman he had known in his past.

Fio was willing to continue the discussion, but Ross cut off communication. Fiorella is sad, but also more than a little relieved to be out of the hot seat.

BOYCOTT BENEFUL DOG FOOD!

Sometimes there's nothing interesting happening in Fio's life. Other times, she's overflowing with topics.  Right now, she's caught in a biblical flood.  The situation reached its zenith yesterday afternoon when Fio drove (yes, her car is working now) to PetsMart and discovered that Beneful has reprocessed and repackaged its dry dog food, which means that Healthy Fiesta is no longer available,

Fio hit the roof, and let everyone in the store know why.  Healthy Fiesta is the only brand that left Sonia Dog free of the of the pungent odors mastiffs usually exude, and Fiorella does not look forward to being gassed out of the house.

Venting

Scream, scream, scream,  crash, bang!  Fio is having another breakdown.  Anger and frustration is the name of the game.  The bank has her credit score wrong, and she wants to sell more books.  After stomping around for a while last night, she sat down and emailed Friend Claire for information about promotions, then emailed the bank about the incorrect credit score.  This morning she awoke with a promotion idea or two herself.

And, on the side, she's working on the house and writing the third book, the novella.

Pray for her.  She prays for you.

Violence

Fiorella understands frustration.  She understands anger.  She understands speaking out--even yelling. But what she doesn't understand is deliberate destruction of property.  Or hurting people.

Riots are not for her.