Recovery

The Bounce-back Kid has done it again.

Fiorella woke up this morning feeling totally normal--for her, at least.  The bruises are receding, the cut is healing, her nosebleed is minimal, her arm muscles don't hurt, and her split lip is recovering enough that she can smile again.  Now for the trip to to the ear-nose-and-throat guy, to be sure Fio's nose bones are healing right, then for visit to her dentist, to be sure her teeth are aligned correctly.

Thank you to everyone for the good wishes, and a special thanks for the flowers, balloon, and chocolates--you know who you are.

Love to all.

Personal Snippets

The dentist told Fio she has small teeth, which is lucky because then they fit inside what his assistant told her is a very small mouth.  (Strange--Fio's always been told she has a big mouth. Guess appearances can be deceiving.)
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Fio got distracted yesterday and ended up driving the wrong way into a one-way street, then into another one to set everything to rights.  Thank you to all the drivers who honked warnings and even stopped dead in their tracks as she came at them.  What distracted her?  She was thinking up new threads for her current oeuvre.  Now you know why you should never ride with Fio.
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Fudge mallows and Spanish peanuts--they're a cure-all--good for the brain and for the body. Fio's energy revived, and she slept well too.
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Most writers' romances reflect a more sanguine view of life than Fiorella's do.  That's why hers are called dark.  She's realistic.

Sonya Speaks

I played a little game with Mommy this morning. Every time she tried to entice me up the stairs so she could keep an eye on me while she dressed, I did things like stop half-way, grab one of her shoes that had been left on a step, then hightail it back down, rump-bump-a-thumping all the way. When Mommy discovered my little trick and dragged me upstairs, I grabbed Daddy's pajama bottoms from the utility room floor and ran for my life. Mommy caught me again, and this time I had to stay in the bathroom with her, but that too had its opportunities. When Mommy tried to step into her underpants, I sank my teeth into one edge and pulled. I thought they were mine--after all, they were pink and I'm a girl.

Mommy, being bigger and stronger and having absolutely no sympathy for a bare-bottomed puppy, prevailed, finished dressing, then accompanied me downstairs, but not before I'd noticed her nightgown and heavy winter robe hanging from a high hook. In a nanosecond, they were on the floor. All it took was a little tug.

Don't blame me. These puppy teeth crave action.

Update Snippets

Fiorella seems to have won the newspaper war. For the third straight day, the Statesman has been delivered onto her porch.
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Fio has found a wonderful new orthopod who treats her like an individual and did not ask her, as the first one did, if she has any of her own teeth. (FYI, Fio's teeth are all home-grown.)
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Fio wants to amend her theory that dogs and homo sapiens bonded over shelter in caves from the rain, sleet, snow, etc. She thinks there was also a concomitant factor: body heat. There's nothing as warm and comforting as a furry little body cuddled up next to you.