Husband bought a GPS system for the trip to Dallas, mainly, Fio thinks, to see if he could anger the smooth-voiced announcer by disobeying her instructions. It was an interesting experience for Fio, who, as a child, would read the map for her father. This time she was reading the GPS screen for Husband. Once a navigator, always a navigator. Bless Father.
*****
Fiorella and Husband enjoyed looking at the beautiful springtime scenery as they drove, and they couldn't help but discuss how it used to be. When Fio was a child, her family threw all its traveling trash out the car window. So did everyone else, and the roadsides looked like dumps. Then came Lady Bird Johnson and her "beautify America" campaign. Bless Lady Bird.
*****
On the way home, Husband made a detour for Fio to buy flowers, then drove her to the cemetery, then stepped off a distance she could talk to her mother privately. Bless Husband.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Stephen King Hotel
As Fiorella and Husband trod the Dallas hotel hall, searching for their appointed room, they could not help but overhear people through the paper-thin walls arguing with their stockbrokers, discussing plans for the following day, and placating their children. Once inside their room, they could hear every door up and down the hall open and close, every elevator ding, and every joyful group that passed. Soundproofing was not the name of the game.
That all changed an hour later when Fio tried to descend to the lobby to register for the writing conference. Another woman was already in the elevator and kindly tapped Fio's button for her, then got off a floor earlier,
Fio stepped out of the cab alone, not at the lobby, but on floor one. The place stunk to high heaven. Now, ever since reading The Shining, Fio has been somewhat leery of hotel halls, and this was definitely a Stephen King sort of passageway. Yes, Fio was all, all alone in a long,dark, deserted hallway that had just been painted and was illuminated only by big spotlights focused here and there on the ceiling. Tarps and painting supplies littered the carpet and the place was utterly, utterly silent.
"Hellooooo, helloooo?" Fiorella called, much as she does in Home Depot when trying to attract a sales clerk.
A bit of an echo, but no answer.
Fio, being a practical, semi-level-headed kind of gal, punched the "lobby" button. No response. Then she tried every other button. The elevator was dead. Fio was stuck on floor one.
Surely there was some escape. She tried walking down the hall to see if there was another elevator at the end of it. But the paint fumes were making her sick and the dark tunnel seemed to go on forever.
She retreated back to the elevator cab and tried all the buttons again, then spotted one labeled "alarm." Fio was saved! The fire department would come roaring in and Fio would be terribly embarrassed, but she would be saved!
Except that, even though she rang the buzzer repeatedly, no one responded.
By then Fio was wondering about that helpful woman who had pushed the fateful button that had sent her down to floor one. Who was that woman, really? And did this floor actually exist for everyone, or just for Fiorella? Would Husband search high and low, never knowing what had become of her until some hotel janitor finally stumbled upon her dessicated corpse?
Husband! Fiorella could contact him by cellphone! She punched in his number and hastily explained her plight. At least he'd know where to search for the body.
He suggested she open doors, looking for another way out, which Fio had been loath to do, somewhat afraid of what might lurk behind them. But bravely she emerged from her elevator cave and tried a door at the end of a little side hall, half-convinced that if she opened it and stepped inside, it would slam shut and lock her in forever.
Stairs! It was the door to a stairwell! Fio started walking up,up up. On the second landing was a door labeled "lobby." She was saved!
That night Fiorella couldn't sleep because of all the noise in the hall--for which she was very, very grateful. Silence isn't all it's cracked up to be.
That all changed an hour later when Fio tried to descend to the lobby to register for the writing conference. Another woman was already in the elevator and kindly tapped Fio's button for her, then got off a floor earlier,
Fio stepped out of the cab alone, not at the lobby, but on floor one. The place stunk to high heaven. Now, ever since reading The Shining, Fio has been somewhat leery of hotel halls, and this was definitely a Stephen King sort of passageway. Yes, Fio was all, all alone in a long,dark, deserted hallway that had just been painted and was illuminated only by big spotlights focused here and there on the ceiling. Tarps and painting supplies littered the carpet and the place was utterly, utterly silent.
"Hellooooo, helloooo?" Fiorella called, much as she does in Home Depot when trying to attract a sales clerk.
A bit of an echo, but no answer.
Fio, being a practical, semi-level-headed kind of gal, punched the "lobby" button. No response. Then she tried every other button. The elevator was dead. Fio was stuck on floor one.
Surely there was some escape. She tried walking down the hall to see if there was another elevator at the end of it. But the paint fumes were making her sick and the dark tunnel seemed to go on forever.
She retreated back to the elevator cab and tried all the buttons again, then spotted one labeled "alarm." Fio was saved! The fire department would come roaring in and Fio would be terribly embarrassed, but she would be saved!
Except that, even though she rang the buzzer repeatedly, no one responded.
By then Fio was wondering about that helpful woman who had pushed the fateful button that had sent her down to floor one. Who was that woman, really? And did this floor actually exist for everyone, or just for Fiorella? Would Husband search high and low, never knowing what had become of her until some hotel janitor finally stumbled upon her dessicated corpse?
Husband! Fiorella could contact him by cellphone! She punched in his number and hastily explained her plight. At least he'd know where to search for the body.
He suggested she open doors, looking for another way out, which Fio had been loath to do, somewhat afraid of what might lurk behind them. But bravely she emerged from her elevator cave and tried a door at the end of a little side hall, half-convinced that if she opened it and stepped inside, it would slam shut and lock her in forever.
Stairs! It was the door to a stairwell! Fio started walking up,up up. On the second landing was a door labeled "lobby." She was saved!
That night Fiorella couldn't sleep because of all the noise in the hall--for which she was very, very grateful. Silence isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Sugar Sweet
Did Fiorella ever tell you about her diabetes diagnosis?
She was in the hospital to get her ticker checked out and the doctor announced to her that she had diabetes. Fiorella contradicted her, explaining that her family practitioner kept a close watch on her glucose levels. Nevertheless, when evening came 'round, the attendant nurse explained each pill, then said, "And now for your insulin."
Fio protested and the nurse told her she had the right to refuse the insulin, that random fingertip tests are not reliable, and that stress, nitroglycerin, and pain can make the blood sugar shoot up temporarily. Fio refused the insulin and her glucose level was down to 71 within less than 24 hours.
When the doctor came in to sign Fio out of the hospital, she announced that Fio had PRE-diabetes and sent the nutritionist in to lecture at Fio about the diabetic diet.
The day after Fio was released, she called her family doctor to get a lab order for a fasting blood sugar test, which she underwent last week. The results came back a couple of days later: FIORELLA'S GLUCOSE LEVEL IS JUST FINE--NO DIABETES, NO PRE-DIABETES.
To celebrate, Fio made herself sick on a carton of chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs.
She was in the hospital to get her ticker checked out and the doctor announced to her that she had diabetes. Fiorella contradicted her, explaining that her family practitioner kept a close watch on her glucose levels. Nevertheless, when evening came 'round, the attendant nurse explained each pill, then said, "And now for your insulin."
Fio protested and the nurse told her she had the right to refuse the insulin, that random fingertip tests are not reliable, and that stress, nitroglycerin, and pain can make the blood sugar shoot up temporarily. Fio refused the insulin and her glucose level was down to 71 within less than 24 hours.
When the doctor came in to sign Fio out of the hospital, she announced that Fio had PRE-diabetes and sent the nutritionist in to lecture at Fio about the diabetic diet.
The day after Fio was released, she called her family doctor to get a lab order for a fasting blood sugar test, which she underwent last week. The results came back a couple of days later: FIORELLA'S GLUCOSE LEVEL IS JUST FINE--NO DIABETES, NO PRE-DIABETES.
To celebrate, Fio made herself sick on a carton of chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
What Is?
Just as it seems right and normal to me, the way my life is, does my father's life seem right and normal to him?
I've made so many adjustments and accommodations through the years--to partial blindness, loss of my singing voice, problems with stamina, overweight, and age, not to mention disappointments, failures, and tragedies. Maybe I also am living in a world constructed by my own brain out of rags and tatters of objective reality.
But then, aren't we all?
I've made so many adjustments and accommodations through the years--to partial blindness, loss of my singing voice, problems with stamina, overweight, and age, not to mention disappointments, failures, and tragedies. Maybe I also am living in a world constructed by my own brain out of rags and tatters of objective reality.
But then, aren't we all?
Friday, April 3, 2009
Look Out Behind the Door!
In a good story, the reader is always a step ahead of the characters. Even for mysteries, the author should write in such a way that the reader says "I should have guessed it was the butler" rather than "Well, that certainly came out of the blue."
The way an author sets up this situation is by dropping hints and clues all along the way. Of course, the fun of it is that the author also sets up false clues--red herrings. Just like life.
Just like life.
The way an author sets up this situation is by dropping hints and clues all along the way. Of course, the fun of it is that the author also sets up false clues--red herrings. Just like life.
Just like life.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
April Fool
April 1 was not kind to Fiorella. She couldn't get online, which meant she couldn't read the news, check the weather, proofread her blog, or peruse her e-mail. Husband's laptop was in the same fix. Yes, it's probably an April 1 virus which somehow got through the firewall. Fio was devastated. What sort of person would do such a mean thing?
Then, as she was driving to a 1:00 meeting at the library, she noticed two baby horses in a pasture by the road. And she remembered all the baby goats she has been seeing gamboling in the fields lately, and the calves trailing after their mothers. And she felt better. Maybe there's still hope for the world.
In the meantime, Husband has jerry-rigged a connection for her upstairs on his desktop computer. So if Fio is running a little slow, you'll know why. It's hard to work on an unfamiliar machine.
Then, as she was driving to a 1:00 meeting at the library, she noticed two baby horses in a pasture by the road. And she remembered all the baby goats she has been seeing gamboling in the fields lately, and the calves trailing after their mothers. And she felt better. Maybe there's still hope for the world.
In the meantime, Husband has jerry-rigged a connection for her upstairs on his desktop computer. So if Fio is running a little slow, you'll know why. It's hard to work on an unfamiliar machine.
Springtime
It's full spring now. Wendy Dog spends all morning sunning herself on the back porch, the does are fattening up, and Fiorella has a nasty fire ant bite.
At least it's just one.
At least it's just one.
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