Morning, Noon, and Night

Fiorella lives by lists and systems. Her major lista is the one she writes down for the next day (manana), but she also consults her calendario. Her sytems include such things as feeding la perra her daily pildoras--Fio puts a gob of peanut butter on the handle of una cuchara o tendedor (spoon or fork), sticks una pildora in the mess, and presents it to Sonia, who eagerly gulps it down.
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If there's a body count category for the Mexican telenovela awards, La Piloto will win it hands down. Not only have the extras died like flies, but several of the minor characters have also been killed off. Of course, our heroine is in peril--again. The only way she could save the life of la bebe de una amiga (who had been killed) was to surrender herself to the sadistic Santamaria. Of course, she was rescued by Dave and her friends, but not before Sanamaria, quien no es un santo, strung her up by her wrists and branded her with a red hot cattle iron. Her scream could be heard all the way to Hollywood.
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The day is surprisingly cool for central Texas in late June, and the house is quiet. Maybe Fio can get through a couple more chapters of her work-in-progress before anyyone gets back to the house. Ah, pandemonium, I know you well.

Celebrate with Fio!

OMG, Fio finally has her lists organized!

Yes, those multiple paper tablets stuffed with ideas and comments and dialogue and poems and domestic to-dos and everything else under the sun.  It took her three hours, but she now has her conglomeration down to six sets of clipped pages--Phillipa, Lolly, Leah, Leah, Carolee, marketing, and notes--plus four sets of to-do lists she's taped to one side of the mantel and a reminder for tomorrow she's taped to the other side.

Now to dive in and accomplish everything she's committed herself to.

Striving for Organization

Fiorella is going crazy(er) with her lists.  There's her list of the cell numbers of RWA chapter members, the list of parties she's invited to, the list of people she wants to meet up with, the list of clothes she will take with her, the list of her meds, the list of workshops she hopes to attend, the list of things she needs to do before she leaves, the list she plans to make for husband to do while she's gone.

There's no punch line to this entry.  It's just another list.

Fiorella Freud

Fio went to bed exhausted last night, which is how she likes it. It isn't a good day for Fiorella unless she's crossed off as much on her ever-present list as possible.  And once she's finished off that list, there are back-up lists. 

Yes, Fio is a doer, an up-and-at-'em kinda gal.  Sitting around and smelling the roses isn't for her.  Partially, it's the challenge. Partially, it's the exhilaration.  Partially, it's knowing that time is passing-- precious time which she can never recover again.

More than you wanted to know.  But then, Fio also is a relentless self-analyzer.

Albert and Fio

Supposedly Einstein said that he wrote down everything he didn't feel was important enough to memorize. Fiorella herself lives by her lists. Starting in junior high, she kept track of her school assignments through written lists, and now she keeps track of her daily life the same way.

Sometimes she even adds in Husband's commitments so he won't forget them, but lately she's noticed he's keeping his own lists.

Watch out--it's catching.

Keeping Up

Fiorella admits it--she's a listmaker. It's compulsive.

The listmaking started when she was in junior high and forgot a homework assignment. From then on she wrote everything down. Now her lists include not just what she MUST do day by day, but ideas of what she wants to do in the future. And, one by one, the things actually do get done.

How else do you think she's written this blog for 1005 days straight?