FACEBOOK HAS BANNED FIORELLA'S OTHER SELF FOR THREE DAYS!!!

 Fio has been in a daze ever since Trump's horde rioted The Capitol. No, no, it can't be happening! This is the United States of America, the land of the free and the home of the brave. We don't destroy our history. We don't trample our fellow citizens. We don't try to force our political beliefs on others.  BUT TRUMP DOES!

In case you follow Fiorella on FaceBook under one of her other names, she's been banned for three days because she said that Daddy Putin is smiling this morning; that if the Rosenbergs were electrocuted, Trump should be too; and something else clever and well-worded that she doesn't remember. JUST THINK! ME, SWEET FIORELLA, BANNED for not adhering to community standards! It's ridiculous!

Being banned by FB also means that your girl cannot post anything to remind people about THE CAPTIVE CHILDREN, so would you please do so (on an orange background) for the next three days? Meanwhile, your Fio will scheme and simmer. Maybe her next post will be about free speech!

Fiorella finds it interesting that FaceBook is censoring her for telling the truth about Trump and his crew, but a couple of years back, it totally ignored the verbal attacks that a former schoolmate launched on her!

Ah hah! Fio, who's of the experimental mode, has discovered that she can still open up house advertisements and still use Messenger to communicate with distant friends!

P.S: FINALLY FOUND OUT MY FACEBOOK SINS. On January 8, I had said that if the Rosenbergs were electrocuted for treason, Trump should be electrocuted twice over, and that on May 2 and August 21, I had sarcastically said "Heil Hitler."

 

 

 

 

From Hope to Horror and Back Again

Yesterday started out so beautifully--Georgia had elected one, maybe two, representatives "out of the blue" so Fiorella called friend Ellen in California and congratulated her on all the good work she had put in over long-distance. Your girl was floating on air--maybe there was hope for our country after all.  Then the news came out that a rowdy group of Trumpites was invading the Capitol grounds. Then came the news that shots had been fired, barriers had been jumped, fences torn down, and the ever-increasing mob had become a riot. Windows were smashed, offices were raided, and the police were helpless. 

You've seen the pictures. Armed troops were called in, and Donald was finally convinced to speak to his minions. Like a sweet-voiced mother, he emphasized how much he loved them, then asked them to go home--for now--which makes one wonder what else he is planning because, make no mistake, this was a bought-and-paid-for performance.

However, interestingly enough, the invasion, rather than reinforcing Trump's attempt to stay in office, knocked him totally out of the running, even with die-hards of his own party. Apparently,  they could put up with sly, under-the-table dealings, but not with out-and-out thugishness--or with the Capitol being invaded. 

The good part of it all is that everyone on The Hill was in such shock that their brains cleared and they accepted it that Georgia's election was legitimate,  that Trump and McConnell were on their way out. WELCOME TO THE BRAVE NEW WONDERFUL WORLD!

QUICKIES

 Several decades ago, Fiorella was diagnosed as having multiple sclerosis--until four years later, when it was decided that she didn't. This experience is one of the reasons why your girl keeps on moving, no matter what, because everything can change, good or bad, in a second.

AHA! After two years, Fio accidentally stumbled on the way to enlarge the font of of her computer screen. Farewell, squint-eye!

Your girl has again lost the treasure trove of brushes she'd gathered from various nooks and crannies for emergency painting. So, so much for the white paint she'd bought to brighten up some of the dark corners of the house and also for the brown paint with which she was planning to repaint Sonia Dog's "I'm ready to come back inside now, Mommy," scratches at the door.

Wednesday--miercoles--and Fio will take all the miracles she can get. By the way, she's picking up a little more espanol denuevo....and remembering a bit of her deutsch too. Verstehen zee?

Donde esta mi birthday book? Have I lost it?

 

C'mon, Now--Give Me a Break!

 Fio is so tired of this house business. She's stripped the house in stages and it's now down to nearly nothing, which means that she can't find anything, either because it's been packed away or moved to another cupboard. At the same time, she is trying to keep the place looking cute and attractive so she can get a good price. She's also foot the bills for any repairs, etc., and been assured that all is well.....except it's not, according to "experts" called in by the prospective buyers. OF COURSE, THEY TELL YOU THERE IS ROOF TROUBLE--BECAUSE THEN YOU'LL HIRE THEM TO "FIX" IT!

Your girl is pressing for a hurry-up in the search for a new house. She doesn't like living alone, she's uncomfortable lingering in limbo, and is concerned about the welfare of the jungle of precious boxes inhabiting her three-car garage. Also, she also wants to be writing or painting or composing music or studying a new language instead of caretaking the remains of her once-beloved home, but instead, all she's doing is getting older.

Even the computer has turned against her, freezing up when she wants to explode on-line about TV being so dumb (shows) or repetitive (politics) that she finds herself watching stupid country music ads all the way through. Oh, and by the way, Fio DOES NOT LIKE the bum-bum BUM-bum background music which is so popular right now. It makes her nervous, which is the last thing she needs in her life.

And then there's the political scene, in which Trump, tutored by Daddy Putin, is playing every dirty card in the deck to stay in power.

 And dealing with all of this is why Fiorella keeps running to the refrigerator for chocolate bars.

 

You Can Make It, Fiorella!

 Fio suddenly realized that today is the day she can run off Fiorella 2020 and stack it with the rest of her blog books. She's thinking that makes thirteen editions, but it may be fourteen. 

Your girl's gotta remember to scoot into town and pick up some miniature lights for the candelabra on the stairway landing. That plastic geegaw has always represented hope to her, and she's gonna need a lot of it during this move,

Fiorella found Sonya Dog's birth certificate, and Baby Dog still has about three years to go. Large dogs don't last as long as little ones, sadly.

Guess who fell asleep on the couch this morning, then leapt up like a jack-in-the-box and grabbed a mask when Sonia went into a conniption fit, barking like we were being attacked? Who panicked because she was pretty sure it was the AC guy come to take care of the upstairs unit, but she suddenly couldn't remember where her realtor's to-do list was? Who looked down at the coffee table and realized the list was right in front of her? Who ushered the AC guy in, then decided to make herself some hot chocolate because the house was cold inside, then nearly burned the pan because she still had one ear open to what the AC guy was doing?

Guess who got a sweet note from Son K and his wife 💗?

 

 

 

 

Digging One's Way Out of the Mess

Somehow, Fio got erased for yesterday and lost not only her mental meanderings, but an entry about Husband's death, which was two-years ago on January 2.  

Why was Fiorella asked what she wanted in a new house when it seems like none of her few requests--an outside door, two rooms, a soaker tub and bathroom, a nice yard--are available? 

Wonder of wonders--your girl accidentally stepped on her only remaining pair of distance glasses and....hold your breath....shoved one of the lenses back into place again! The other lens is still a little whopper-jawed, of course, and both of them are secured with Scotch tape, but it's a start.

Remind Fio tomorrow morning that it's better to drink her hot chocolate (NesQuick) in the morning, when she needs warming up, and to leave the frozen chocolate bars, broken into milk for the evening, when she pretends it's a cocktail.

Realtor Mallary, an angel of patience, will be stopping over this afternoon to go through all the papers that Fiorella has dug out of the old-fashioned overloaded desk that has guarded the living-room entryway for, lo, these sixteen years (plus a hundred or so before that.)

 

One Liners

 Every day/ Dear God, I pray/ To make me a better person than I am

EEK! Fiorella forgot to date and copyright her Christmas cards this year!

Aah--a calendar, at last. Friend Marion is mailing one to me 💖

I am in love/ With my Soaker Tub/ So don't try to grab/ It from me, Bub!

Hurrah! Your girl's missing credit card turned up all on its own--now to figure out which card is still active.

There's a guy tramping around on Fio's roof today--again. One roofer said she needs a $30,000 roof re-do and another one said that was balderdash, that the roof's okay. Hoping the current tramper will agree with #2.

Fiorella is going round and round with Capital One because she'd rather make her car payments by mail instead of credit card.

One of Fio's cousins, who has four offspring and several grandchildren, sent out a family picture for Christmas, and your girl is green with jealousy.

This has not been a good day, and Fiorella's eyebrow--the one with the hematoma--is aching.

What will Saturday be like?