Theories About Nature, Arab Wars, Trump's Core, God, and Self-confidence

Fiorella has spent about an hour outside lately harvesting rocks from the acreage to shore up those brave soldiers already positioned around the driveway. It's heart-warming to see that so many rocks that that weren't ready to be pressed into service last years are volunteering this year. (Side news: mis rocas have come off their ego trip and are willing to be called piedras this year.)
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All this 100-degree heat is making Fio understand why the Arab countries are always at war with each other.
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Fiorella's theory is that Trump's basest core will stick with him even if he sets the White House on fire. It's like he's their dog, no matter that he's sent a neighbor kid to the hpspital.
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Fio isn't going to post this on FB, but she thinks the Catholic church is more susceptible to pedophilia and like abuses because the clergy is considered to be on a higher level than laymen. Wise up, people--everyone is the same in God's eyes.
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The secret to getting something done is to believe that you can.

Rock Warning Plus Tidbits

Fio went out in mid-afternoon to tow her little red wagon full of creekbed rocks along the driveway and shore up problem areas, but she received  a stone cold reception from her troops.  In fact, she received no reception. They totally ignored her, which sort of scared her. What had she done to estrange her wonderful rocks? She laid out a few new recruits, then stopped and considered. It was so hot out, and the air was so still. OMG--the rocks were telling her to go in and gulp down some water, that she wasn't safe out in the heat today! Thank you, my darlings.
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Fiorella has never been knocked unconscious that she knows of. But after the fact, does one ever realize one has been unconscious?
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Let's spend less on museums and more on affordable housing, on the furure rather than the past.
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You do realize, of course, that if Fiorella couldn't write on Blogspot, Facebook, Documents, or her lista amarilla, she'd scratch what she wants to say on sidewalks and cave walls. Do you also realize that Fiorella, who started this blog very cautiously, now regularly spills her guts and tells you things no one else knows?
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All good things in Fiorella's life are referred to as Baby--her dog, her laptop, and her granddaughter. Rejoice with Fio.

Perspective

Fiorella got caught in a horrible traffic jam yesterday.  It took her an hour and a half to travel the ten miles between Pflugerville and Round Rock.  The day was hot--100 degrees hot--and she didn't have any Ozarka in the car.  Most of the time was spent sitting with her motor running.  When she got home, she was in such bad shape that Husband had to help her out of the car and into the house, where she gulped down great amounts of water and collapsed on the couch.

Fio had a hard time of it, but the people in the pile-up that caused the traffic jam--a semi and seven cars--had it even worse.

God protect and preserve them.

Catching up with Canine

Sonia Dog wants Fio and Husband to stay in the same room so she can keep an eye on them. In fact, she prefers to be between them, touching both of them at the same time.  When Mommy and Daddy hug each other, she growls and tries to get between them--a hug without Sonia in the middle is not complete.
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The dog days of summer do not appeal to the resident mastiff.  Sonia and Fiorella have been hoofing around the 180-linear yards of the driveway twice a day for a full year now, but a couple of 100-degree days ago, doggie started balking at a second loop.  And last night she backed away when Fiorella approached her with the leash.
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Sonia will be three years old in a couple of months.  How matronly.

Summer Squall

Hey, Mr. Weatherman,
You told a lie!
Said our temps were going down
Instead of staying high!

What happened to that ninety-eight
Predicted for today?
And what about those thunderstorms
You said would come our way?

I'm tired of rising from my bed
At the crack of dawn
To empty out my bathtub water
On our browning lawn.

So, you'd better fix our weather fast
The way that it should be
Or, sure as shootin', I'll fix you--
By turning off TV!