Contemplations

The way Fio sees it, her fire comes from her mother's family, and her steadfastness comes from her father's family.
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Fiorella has no control over anything or anyone, and sometimes she even loses control of herself.
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Not until this year has Fio realized how many bad people there are in the world. In fact, they seem to be in the majority.
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Is there even one woman on TV who is wearing her real hair color?
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Leaving, my dear, is not what I do
Instead, my dear, I stick like glue

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?

Computers in Command

In this electronic era, when the computer commands everyone's life, Fiorella feels the need to connect with tangible reality, to pick up rocks in her hands, to construct her own holiday decorations with scissors and ribbons, to start a fire in the fireplace with rotten wood.

And she wonders. Are we getting too far ahead of ourselves? Do we have too many apps on our phones? Are we are too dependent on our gadgets? Are the electronics are controlling us rather than us controlling them?

Think about it.

Superstitions

Fiorella is fascinated by the way we all try to find ways to control our lives.  Remember "Step on a crack/Break your mother's back?"  Fio realized it was dumb at the time, but still carefully avoided sidewalk cracks "just in case."  And now, as an adult, for no reason she can discern, she does not want any sharp instrument pointed at her.

Then there are the classic, like throwing spilled salt over your left shoulder.  And most of us are concerned that they might maybe jinx ourselves by talking about positive possibilities as if they were certainties.

The list is endless.  And we call ourselves modern and enlightened.

But be careful--there's a Friday the Thirteenth this month.

Smother Mother

Now that Sonia's of age in dog years, she wants more independence, especially when Fio takes her for walks around the driveway.  For the second day in a row, Doggie broke leash halfway down the north drive on the way back to the house to investigate an interesting smell. But when she'd followed the scent as far as it interested her, Sonia did NOT return to Fiorella,  Instead, she started trotting along the driveway toward the front porch, pausing to look behind her from time to time to be sure Mommy was still with her.

Fiorella appreciates her solicitude and is relieved that Sonia's goal is the front porch, not the big, bad, wonderful world out there.  And she realizes Sonia is at the age that she feels entitled to make her own decisions.  But Fiorella wants to keep her on the leash.

Mind Control

Fiorella is not one to jump on bandwagons, especially when someone is trying to control her mind.  Especially when someone is trying to sell her something. Which brings her around to a meeting she attended last week, a meeting in which the speaker talked about meditation and hawked her books.

It was standard con-man technique: talk in a slow, hypnotic voice, smile the whole time, tell a few humorous anecdotes about your initial disbelief in the product, lull people into relaxation, ask for comments or answers, then validate each and every one of them, even if they're contradictory.  Let the suckers sell themselves on your value.

Bxxch that she is, Fio didn't cooperate.  The emperor had no clothes.

Out of Control

Fiorella's mother had all her ducks in a row.  Her lawn was mowed and edged, her bushes trimmed, and her planting beds lush with flowers.  Her house was warm and welcoming, beautifully decorated, and immaculate.  Her life was secure and well-regulated.

Fiorella's landscaping is a mess, her house is a mess, and her life is a mess.  She's plotting to turn the west planting bed into a flagstone terrace to thwart the armadillos, but is at a loss for the north bed.  Even with an in-ground watering system, flowers are out of the question and the bushes have gone sparse and leggy.  Her home  is a lost cause inside too--too many of Fio's unfinished projects lying around, too much of Husband's stuff that he planned to take care of later.  And her literary career is uncertain at best.

Which is why Fiorella sits around brooding and eating chocolate ice cream.

Still Deep

Cause and effect is prime to everything. It's the concept, the truism, that all the sciences, hard and soft, are based on. But there's no logical reason for the existence of predictability. We could just as well live in a totally random universe such as Fiorella encountered in her drug-addled hallucinations.

It's a matter of control--if cause and effect exists, we can predict what will happen next. If we know what will happen next, we can alter the future.

But always with the wild card of free will thrown in.

Continuing Guilt

It's not just guilt--it's a yen for control. Taking responsibility for the things that bad people do to us gives us the idea that somehow, we could have prevented our victimization.

In actuality, we have no control over our lives. People are mugged for no reason and stolen from at the least opportunity. Qualified, hard-working people can't get jobs or are fired out of hand. Madmen kill good people at random from university towers. We develop strange illnesses or conditions. We age when we don't want to.

So we, who are powerless, embrace the illusion of power and call it responsibility.