To Do or Not to DO

Good Angel:
Do not look down, Fiorella.  Do not look down at the driveway as you take your morning stroll.  Do not pick up yet another sparkly rock, Fiorella.  You already have nineteen boxes of them on the back porch, and Husband is complaining that the driveway had been denuded.

Bad Angel:
Cool it, babe! There's always room for another stone or two.  After all, the boxes aren't taking up much room because you have them neatly stacked.  Besides, the rocks are all so pretty--the ones that look like they're covered by white frosting, the ones that sparkle in the morning sunshine, the ones that look like frozen root beer, the ones with stripes of carmine red in them . . . ,

Fiorella:
Go away, Bad Angel!  I will not pick up any more--ooh, look at that one!


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Call the TV Crew!

Fiorella is a connoisseur of driveway stones. It's a born-in trait. When she was a little girl in Waco, she searched out the glossy little red and yellow and black and brown pebbles in the driveway, much to her mother's despair.  Since moving out to the boondocks, she's been enamored of flint, but seven years of prospecting the driveway have pretty much dried up that supply.

Her latest mania is sparkling rocks, which Husband says are probably calcium carbonate. She has a collection of them on the window sill over the kitchen sink and a plastic shoebox of them outside on the back porch, where she also stores her flint collection, and every day, when Fio takes Sonia out for a walk up the driveway, she fills her pockets with more of the rocks.

OMG, Fio's a hoarder!