Irony

The very second Fiorella decided to take a long walk, the rain started up again.
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Why is is Fio looks better in the  bathroom mirror than in her selfies?
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Not that Fio's getting any older, but everything about her that supposed to be tight is loosening up--and vice versa.

Golden Rain

The south driveway, awash in cedar elm leaves, looks like the road to Oz.  And when Fio and Husband walk Sonia Dog, the leaves shower down upon them like golden rain. Fiorella loves autumn.

And you can bet every bit of it will be in her next book.

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

It's amazing how fast "just one glazed doughnut" becomes a dozen.
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Fio wants someone to invent windshield wipers that will turn on automatically, then adjust their rhythm to the amount of rain falling on the car window.
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Maybe people die because they don't want to be old anymore.
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Once the unthinkable has happened, one realizes it can happen again.
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The universe is logical, and that logic is God.

Christmas Deja Vu

Yesterday morning the weather forecasters predicted wind gusts, possibly light rain, which meant Fio's hairdo would either be extra-fluffy or she'd look like a drowned rat.
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Fio and Husband carted the trash bags out out to the container in the dark last night. Even in freezing weather, you gotta keep up with things if you don't want to end up as a star of a Hoarders episode.
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Fiorella turned on the Christmas tree lights to end the day.  It seemed appropriate--the ground was covered with patches of ice.  All we needed was a reprise of the rooftop sleigh bells.
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HAPPY FRIDAY MORNING--IT SNOWED LAST NIGHT!  Fio is rushing from window to window for the best view. Ooh--even in her heavy winter robe, she's c-o-l-d.  It's hot chocolate for breakfast! Thank you, Climate Change!

Written on Friday

Our windows and glass doors are all steamed up.  Yeah, it's cooler outside than in.  Autumn is coming on fast.

The rain drummed hard on our metal roof last night so our driveway was running water when Husband went out to get the paper.  Later, when Fio took Sonia Dog for her walk, the precipitation had diminished to a gentle, British variety, but now it's cats and dogs again.

So much for the predictions of a ten-year drought.  Fio thought by now, like the Anasazi when their time came, she'd be packing up her bags and moving to a wetter clime.  Instead, because of the illogical weather patterns of global warming, she can stay put--at least for now.

Weather Watch

Oh me, oh my,
Rain in July--
And what is more frightening,
Thunder and lightning!

The weather's askew
What next will it do?

Another Olio

It may be the female imperative, but Fiorella is driven to produce--children, literature, music, art, fabric fantasies, you name it.  She's been this way since she was a child, aided and abetted by her mother, who sewed up the cloth doll Fio designed to supplement her kindergarten class's supply of toys. Who had Fiorella draw the church manager scene and supervise the painting of it when she was a teenager.  Who hung her oils on the living room wall.
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Sonia, I know you're jealous, but you cannot lick at Baby's face while she rests in Mommy's lap.  Nor chew at the umbilical hanging from her bod, nor rest your paws upon her shining keys.
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No need for birth control in the Arab world.  They kill themselves right, left, and sideways.  Just wish they didn't get us involved.  We have enough fanatics of our own.
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The day after Fio threw out the last of the saved bath water from two years ago, it rained.  Another feather in her cap.  You're welcome.
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Doonesbury's plotlines sure have been dull lately.  Is Trudeau out to lunch?  Fio wants to hear more about what Jeff Redfern and his mother are doing.  And Alex.   She'd also like a follow-up on Melissa.  And to learn what Drew's big announcement was.  And she wants a baby for Kim.

Rainmaker

Your Fio can control the weather.

Remember two years ago when she stored bathtub water in half-gallon plastic milk bottles?  Well, she'd like to dump them all off the balcony into the backyard now, but the second she mentions so doing, the skies open up and it rains felines and canines.

If only she'd realized her talent during the drought two years ago.

Rainy Days

Fio truly appreciates the  rain we've been getting lately.  But she isn't thrilled about the lightning strikes knocking out the electronics.  Or about having to drive into Austin in the pelting rain.  Or about having to  tote around a stupid umbrella which she can never get open till she's standing outside the car and getting her hairdo ruined.  Or about having to bribe the mastiff, then lasso the pug and nearly choke him to death, to maneuver them outside to do their business.  Or about the mud both dogs track back into the house in revenge.

Yes, Fio truly appreciates the rain we've been getting lately. If only it weren't so darn wet.

Darkness at Noon

The morning started out bright, then darkened suddenly as a rainstorm pummeled Fiorella's windshield while she was on her way to Austin.  Experienced in bad-weather driving, Fio took her foot off the pedal and kept the car aimed straight ahead until she caught sight of a broken white line, then rode the side of it carefully for the next five miles.

The other cars had slowed down too, but not as much as Fio. What was her problem, and why was everything so dark?

Oops.  She still had her sunglasses on.  

Mixed Bag

The thunderstorm last night was scary, but, on the other hand, it rained. The skittish armadillo hasn't been caught yet, but yesterday a bigger, fatter one wandered into the trap (number eight). Fiorella's hip still hurts, but her eye has healed. Last, but not least, Fiorella is so high on painkillers that she can't even remember her last name, but why should she care?

Miracle

Rain! Wind! Thunder! Lightning!

Fio woke up about six, realized what was going on, and pretended to still be asleep for a half hour more so she wouldn't scare the storm away.

The sky was moody all day yesterday and even squeezed out a few pitter-pats of moisture, but nothing that did anything more than slick the inside of Husband's rain gauge. But this morning is the real thing, so real that Wendy Dog, a prissy missy, is refusing to leave the covered back patio to do her business.

Two inches and it's still coming down.

Further Portents

Not only did it rain on Saturday, but Fio received an email announcement of Nephew Barney's marriage, And the custom picture frame she's making seems to be working out. And there's the possibility of an eye operation to repair a scarred macula, restoring Fio's depth vision.

Surely that literary agent is right around the corner.