What Day Is It?

Oops, Fiorella messed up again, and the post you'll read tomorrow will be the one she wrote for today so now she'll tell you about today. 

Fio started the day without her morning newspaper, which irritated her immensely because it's hard for her to function without her comic strips and anagrams. Not only that, but Facebook acted like she was a foreign invader and wouldn't let her post any of her trademark scintillating comments.
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But she couldn't let the rejection get to her because Wednesday is Drive-to-Austin Day and Fio had scheduled three meet-ups, the first at 10:00 at Starbucks with friend Evelyn, the second at 11:30 at Dan's North with brother and Friend Paula, the third at 1:30 with friend Joan at Dan's South. Unfortunately, what she hadn't scheduled was the on-and-off rain, a parade of HUGE trucks monopolyzing the highway, and two automobile wrecks, all of which made her fifteen minutes late for Starbucks. Luckily, friend Evelyn forgave her.
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Although Fio may have seemed a little wild-eyed by then, her rondevous with Bill and Paula, then Joan, came off well, but the drive home was rampant with daredevil drivers. Also, someone had wonked Fio's passenger-side side mirror, and she didn't realize it until she was on the highway.
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Coming back to the house, Son taught Fio how to use her new double-duty printer. He also tried to help her get back on Facebook, but it was a no-go--even though she's never posted anything negative about Zuckerberg...yet.
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Hey, hey! She  just tried the stupid FB again and was able to post!

What Happens After the Burial?

It's been more than two months since Husband died, and he's still receiving solicitations from life insurance companies. Fio, of course, has the urge to fill all those forms out, send off the first payment, then report Husband's death--the extra cash sure would help out around Casa Fiorella. The probate lawyer is costing $3000, and Fio is not looking forward to the bill for the grave marker. To make things worse, Social Security has swiped a chunk out of the joint bank account, which doesn't seem fair because even thtough Husband is no longer sitting at the table, the electric, water, and heating bills still have to be taken care of, the dog has to be fed, the garbage picked up, and the mortgage paid.
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Your Fio is running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She has a long list, and it's being added to every day. She's learned just now that she can't drive the old printers up to the side of the road and unload them for some enterprising techie to take home and fiddle with, but instead, has to drive them over to Best Buy (not her favorite store) for recycling.
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Older Son has been a real help, but he knows too much--like that the riding mower needs to have new tires before being put up for sale. Fio would have innocently pawned it off on someone as dumb as she is.
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On the plus side, you will be glad to hear that Fio, without mishap, ran the dishwasher herself this afternoon. On the negative side, she still doesn't know how to use the new double-decker printer or Husband's old Tablet and, even though Son has  been coaching her on expanding her email skills, she's still shaky. The double negative is that there's still the three-car garage to clean up.
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Fiorella has seen a lot of movies in which people die, but she doesn't remember any of the survivors having to deal with this overwheming an aftermath.

Lots of Things Going On

What a day! Nephew and his wife kindly took what seemed like half a ton of CDs off Fiorella's hands, delivered the BBQ smoker to the neighbors for her, and spent a lovely couple of hours visiting with her and Minnesota Son. They also gave Fio some ideas about how she can pick up a few bucks on some of the other stuff lying around the house.
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The county is putting in a new bridge at the foot of Fio's property soon, and she's both thrilled and concerned. Thrilled that she won't be house-bound by an overflowing "dry" creek anymore and concerned because of the mess the construction will make.
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Fio thought Nephew and his wife's visit would be the highlight of her day, but then she received a call from a childhood friend and they stayed on the line forever exchanging family information and their lives. There's a warmth in getting together with someone who's known you since way back when.
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Darn! Fiorella missed Saturday Night Live again--not that she ever watches the whole show. Like Colbert's opening monolog, the cold opening is enough for her. Both of them make her laugh, and then she drifts off to sleep smiling.
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What's on your schedule for today Fio? Aside from grocery shopping and getting my blood checked out, not much--just learning how to use my new double-duty printer, trying to get Kindle to release the books I damn well paid for, helping son clean out the garage, contacting someone for dry wall work in the kitchen and upstairs closet, paying bills, reviewing tax information my accountant sent me a months ago but which my old printer couldn't deliver, and handing over a fat check to my probate lawyer. Colbert better be good tonight!

Hello, Springtime!

Fiorella made the big transition last night from heavy robe to lightweight wrapper. Yes, winter is past tense and she's going to walk the driveway to see if her blubonnets are budding like the ones along the highway are.
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Ah, there's nothing like a good night's sleep after an exhausting walk around a dinosaur park with Bastrop Son y su familia. Granddaughter (nieta) is still not sure about this woman who trails into her two-year-old life every now, and then, but loves dinosaurs.
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That weight-lifting is paying off. Fio was able to transfer two heavy printers--black-and-white and color--into her little red wagon all on her own. The next step will be to haul them up onto the roadside, where she hopes some enterprising techie will find a use for their parts, but that final trip will be made by car.
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But Fio, why are you ditching your printers?  Because the black-and-white won't perform and the color printer is clunky. A trip to Best Buy with Minnesota Son supervising Fiorella's choice--a printer that does double duty--was the only answer.
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Be on the alert! Minnesota Son has taught Fiolla how to transfer photos onto her blog in eight easy steps!

Auld Lang Syne

All in all, Fiorella has now cleared  six yards of Husband's music CDs from the shelves in the den and packed them in bags and boxes to give to Nephew. Ten years ago, Fio could have made a fortune off them, but now digital downloads have taken over. Fortunately, Nephew likes old hat.
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It's odd to glance over at the empty shelves, another reminder that Husband did not make it home from the hospital this time. Sometimes Fio feels guilty because, in effect, she is wiping one of the most important things in his life off the map, but it is essential that she lighten the footprint of the house as quickly as possible. After all, she can't stay out here alone in the boondocks forever.
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Fio is downsizing not only the house, but herself. She "makes do" as much as possible and doesn't buy anything that isn't necessary. Financially, she's okay so far, but who knows what will happen tomorrow?
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Speaking of finances, Fiorella had an appointment with a probate lawyer on Thursday, and judging by the retainer she's shelling out, probate lawyers lead very comfortable lives.
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Su hijo mayor has lightened Fio's burden in all sorts of ways, among them, doing something magic to the stove burners so that they fire up again and showing her the trick to sounding the panic button on Husband's car (which even Husband didn't know how to use).

Sorry about the delay. Was searching everywhere for my vampire story. Finally found it on the machine.

Tally huddled in the far corner of the back seat of the cab returning her to the ferry terminal.  It reminded her of her first trip to New York four years ago, covered with a dark sheet and curled up in the back seat of a limousine with heavily tinted windows.  She had been seventeen then, confused and alone, heading toward the only sanctuary she knew.  Now she was twenty-two, confused and alone, with no sanctuary in sight.

            So, Helen had been right on the money about the effects of sexual excitement.  Tally looked at her nails.  There was blood beneath them.  Well, at least she hadn't bitten him.  But the thought of it made her hunger surge again, almost painful in its intensity.  She pressed one hand to her stomach and studied the cabbie's thick, fleshy neck.  He seemed like such a lout.  Would anyone really miss him?

            No, Tally, you have a choice!  Even louts have families who need them.

            She breathed slowly and deliberately, trying to calm herself.  She could handle this; she had prepared for such emergencies.  Methodically she searched in her purse for a small silver flask, unscrewed the lid, and lifted it to her lips.  She sipped slowly, rolling the dark liquid on her tongue before letting it slide down her throat.  With all the insulation, the flask couldn't hold much, but it was enough.

            She licked her lips and smiled in satisfaction.  God bless anti-coagulants.

            The cab driver's eyes followed her in the rear-view mirror.

            "Just for emergencies," she called gaily from the darkness of the back seat, with what she hoped was a jaunty smile.

            He didn't reply but his eyes snapped back to the road again.  She took one more sip. Why had she thought she had to explain herself to him?  So what if some loutish cab driver thought she was an alcoholic?  He'd probably seen a lot worse--and at least he wasn't dead! 

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