Fio's an incremental type of gal, at least as far as housekeeping is concerned.
She does it on the fly, in bits and pieces, in between stuff that is actually important to her, like writing or painting. Or fetching a Kleenex. Yes, on her way to the kitchen to get a tissue (the box is on top of plates inside a cupboard so Wendy Dog won't indulge in her favorite feast), she picked up paper cups rolling loose on the floor (Wendy snags them off the counter to tongue the last drop of milk from them), rehung Wendy's leash on its hook, and checked the healing sore on her passenger side forearm.
It's painless that way, just another instance of female multi-tasking. If only the dog would would learn it.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Rah, Team, Go!
I'd enjoy sports a lot more if my team always won.
Fio usually avoids sports programs on TV because she doesn't want to get involved. The glory of victory is just great, but the agony of loss is--well--agonizing.
On Thursday, Fio's alma mater, The University of Texas, played Texas A&M. Now, UT has been going great guns this year and is sitting toward the top of the polls, while A&M's record has been so-so. But it was a grudge match--UT and A&M are traditional rivals, and the Aggies were all geared up to take Texas down.
And they nearly did.
UT, who had romped over Kansas State 51-20 the previous week, faced its biggest challenge of the season, and it was nip and tuck all the way. Fio decided she couldn't take it anymore and went to bed when the score was 42-39, with Texas barely ahead. Besides, she was afraid she was jinxing the Longhorns long distance, just as, years ago, she had jinxed Columbia in the only lift-off she ever watched on TV.
She went to bed, but couldn't sleep, then couldn't stay asleep. The next morning she woke up terribly depressed--until she saw the newspaper report. UT won 49-39.
Fio is happy again. She is so shallow.
Fio usually avoids sports programs on TV because she doesn't want to get involved. The glory of victory is just great, but the agony of loss is--well--agonizing.
On Thursday, Fio's alma mater, The University of Texas, played Texas A&M. Now, UT has been going great guns this year and is sitting toward the top of the polls, while A&M's record has been so-so. But it was a grudge match--UT and A&M are traditional rivals, and the Aggies were all geared up to take Texas down.
And they nearly did.
UT, who had romped over Kansas State 51-20 the previous week, faced its biggest challenge of the season, and it was nip and tuck all the way. Fio decided she couldn't take it anymore and went to bed when the score was 42-39, with Texas barely ahead. Besides, she was afraid she was jinxing the Longhorns long distance, just as, years ago, she had jinxed Columbia in the only lift-off she ever watched on TV.
She went to bed, but couldn't sleep, then couldn't stay asleep. The next morning she woke up terribly depressed--until she saw the newspaper report. UT won 49-39.
Fio is happy again. She is so shallow.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Fitting Memorial
Fiorella had the most wonderful time yesterday. She attended a memorial service for Oliver Bernard Gastler. The whole thing, from pre-service music to the final hymn lasted exactly two hours, but Fio wished it had been longer.
Bernie Gastler was a church organist/choir director. But he was more than that: he was a good man, a kind man, a teacher, and a top-notch musician. He founded the Austin Children's Choir and, after collecting a Ph.D. from UT in his later years, taught on the college level.
And during the five years his health was failing, he planned a bang-up memorial service, a celebration of music. Memorial concert would be more like it, and with full participation by all the attendees. The balcony housed a small orchestra, a giant organ, and a sweet-singing choir, while the sanctuary was stuffed to the gills with people who sang long, loud, and heartily.
The liturgy, prayers, and sermon were all there, but the glory was the music--eight hymns in all, every last verse sung. Also, two choir pieces, plus descants and orchestral interludes every time you turned around. The church resounded with beautiful, joyous, inspiring music.
The sermon was a bummer, all about how Bernie had died because of sin and so would all the rest of us, with nothing left behind.
I disagree. Bernie Gastler did leave something behind. Because he lived, the world is a better place, a little kinder today than yesterday. And in his death, he left a wonderful paean to his own personal passion, music.
Go to God, Bernie. Hark, the herald angels sing.
Bernie Gastler was a church organist/choir director. But he was more than that: he was a good man, a kind man, a teacher, and a top-notch musician. He founded the Austin Children's Choir and, after collecting a Ph.D. from UT in his later years, taught on the college level.
And during the five years his health was failing, he planned a bang-up memorial service, a celebration of music. Memorial concert would be more like it, and with full participation by all the attendees. The balcony housed a small orchestra, a giant organ, and a sweet-singing choir, while the sanctuary was stuffed to the gills with people who sang long, loud, and heartily.
The liturgy, prayers, and sermon were all there, but the glory was the music--eight hymns in all, every last verse sung. Also, two choir pieces, plus descants and orchestral interludes every time you turned around. The church resounded with beautiful, joyous, inspiring music.
The sermon was a bummer, all about how Bernie had died because of sin and so would all the rest of us, with nothing left behind.
I disagree. Bernie Gastler did leave something behind. Because he lived, the world is a better place, a little kinder today than yesterday. And in his death, he left a wonderful paean to his own personal passion, music.
Go to God, Bernie. Hark, the herald angels sing.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Living Arrangements
When Fiorella was a teen-ager and money a mere abstraction, she planned to have four homes as an adult. One of them was going to be at the seaside.
Not that Fio had ever seen an ocean--or any other body of water large than Lake Waco, but she read a lot, and authors were always rhapsodizing about the bounding waves. It all sounded so good.
Then Husband drove her down to the coast one year and they camped out on the beach. Fio stayed awake all night, anxiously awaiting the tsunami.
Yes, as it turns out, Fio is none too fond of the seaside. In fact, it makes her nervous. She's seen far too many weather reports featuring typhoons and hurricanes and rogue waves and she just plain doesn't trust all that limitless liquid to stay in its proper place.
Scratch the seaside bungalow. And since Fio already lives in her woodland paradise, that only leaves the Aspen chalet (not that Fio knows how to ski), and the New York pied-a-terre (not that Fio knows anything about the big city).
Somehow Fio thinks the chalet and the pied-a-terre aren't going to work out either.
Not that Fio had ever seen an ocean--or any other body of water large than Lake Waco, but she read a lot, and authors were always rhapsodizing about the bounding waves. It all sounded so good.
Then Husband drove her down to the coast one year and they camped out on the beach. Fio stayed awake all night, anxiously awaiting the tsunami.
Yes, as it turns out, Fio is none too fond of the seaside. In fact, it makes her nervous. She's seen far too many weather reports featuring typhoons and hurricanes and rogue waves and she just plain doesn't trust all that limitless liquid to stay in its proper place.
Scratch the seaside bungalow. And since Fio already lives in her woodland paradise, that only leaves the Aspen chalet (not that Fio knows how to ski), and the New York pied-a-terre (not that Fio knows anything about the big city).
Somehow Fio thinks the chalet and the pied-a-terre aren't going to work out either.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving
This year Fiorella gives special thanks for Friend Sharon's recovery, for the drought finally breaking, and for herself finaling in seven romance writing contests.
As always, she gives thanks for the medical miracles that have kept her and Husband alive and kicking so far.
And for RWA, the San Gabriel Writing League, Carol and Ashley.
And for both the joys of life and the strength to continue when life isn't so joyful.
And for Brother Bill, whose birthday it is today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILL!
As always, she gives thanks for the medical miracles that have kept her and Husband alive and kicking so far.
And for RWA, the San Gabriel Writing League, Carol and Ashley.
And for both the joys of life and the strength to continue when life isn't so joyful.
And for Brother Bill, whose birthday it is today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILL!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Well-publicized Turkeys
A leading political turkey is Sarah Palin, who's heavy on criticism but light on solutions. Fine feathers do not a bald eagle make.
As for entertainment turkeys, let's take a formerly mated pair, Jon and Kate. They made lots of money off their kids, spent it on mansions, fancy cars, diamond rings and such, then split up. Expect to see them together again on your local street island holding up mismatching "God bless" signs.
For beauty turkeys, Carrie Prejean takes the prize. Of course, her breast has already been carved--and stuffed. Too bad her brain cavity was left empty.
As for entertainment turkeys, let's take a formerly mated pair, Jon and Kate. They made lots of money off their kids, spent it on mansions, fancy cars, diamond rings and such, then split up. Expect to see them together again on your local street island holding up mismatching "God bless" signs.
For beauty turkeys, Carrie Prejean takes the prize. Of course, her breast has already been carved--and stuffed. Too bad her brain cavity was left empty.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Turkeys I Have Known
First of all, Fiorella has to list the Sunday School supervisor who wouldn't let Younger Son visit Older Son's class. It was six-year-old YS's first foray into Sunday church school and he wanted to be with his brother. I saw no harm in it as a one-time, getting-used-to-the-idea thing, but the supervisor saw it as Fio not "having control" of her children. Fio did somehow control her temper, but then packed up a very upset YB and his sister and headed home. "Suffer the little children" took on a different meaning that day.
Next, Fio lists her pet Geo, the purple plum, that let her down again and again. Yes, the cutest little hatchback in the world stopped dead on her in drive-through lanes, at red lights, in front of her parents' home 100 miles away, just wherever it chose. Finally Fio had to face facts: that turkey was a purple lemon.
Her final turkey is anonymous, and probably a flock. Fio does not appreciate whoever it was who bashed in her rural mailbox for the umpteenth time, this time cracking it open across the top. The final damage was done the night before her father's funeral, and Fio cried.
Next, Fio lists her pet Geo, the purple plum, that let her down again and again. Yes, the cutest little hatchback in the world stopped dead on her in drive-through lanes, at red lights, in front of her parents' home 100 miles away, just wherever it chose. Finally Fio had to face facts: that turkey was a purple lemon.
Her final turkey is anonymous, and probably a flock. Fio does not appreciate whoever it was who bashed in her rural mailbox for the umpteenth time, this time cracking it open across the top. The final damage was done the night before her father's funeral, and Fio cried.
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