Dear Diary

Fiorella received a small lockable diary as a birthday present when she turned thirteen, but she didn't know quite how to use it.  In books, stories, and TV mystery shows that Fio has seen in the years since then, young women write their hearts out in their diaries, but Fio thought she was supposed to use it to record her daily schedule.  Monday--school, homework, watched TV.  Tuesday--school, homework, Campfire Girls.  You get the picture.  Her reasoning was that if the police ever asked her where she had been on a certain day at a certain time, she could whip out the diary and prove her innocence.

And also prove what a dork she was.

A Blessed House

Fiorella reporting in--our Christmas day was wonderful.  We were thirteen at the table, which was really the dining table adjoined to a picnic table that Fio and Husband had lugged out of the depths of the garage.  The chairs came from all over the house and were joined by four brought by Brother Bill and his wife. After the gift give-aways and dinner--turkey breasts, ham, salmon, boiled potatoes, corn, mushrooms, pies, pudding--we all set up camp in the den, Fio handed out the stockings, and everyone talked and talked and talked.  And laughed and laughed and laughed.  Some of the guests had to leave as the afternoon wore on so the party moved into the front room, still talking.  And laughing.

Everyone is gone now, but the house is still resonating with vibes of love.