Leftover Snippets

Fiorella strode into the grocery store yesterday and didn't even glance at the motorized carts, but a couple of months ago, she was the Ben Hur of HEB.  One thing she learned--if you smile real big, people don't mind you running them down.  
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We live on a death planet because everything that lives on Earth dies. Our vehicles are fueled with death and our fields are made fertile with death. We eat death and live.
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When one takes a painkiller, where does the pain go?

Janistons on the Way?

Fio is amused by the constant teasing--week after week after week--about the status of Jennifer Aniston's uterus, but your cynical blogger doesn't think Justin Theroux's hand placement at the Oscars was anything other than a way of getting Jennifer's picture splattered across more news venues than that of whoever it was that won best actress.  After all, if there are twins in the offing, you can bet a surrogate is carrying them. 

But it is a great publicity campaign. Look--even Fio has written about it.

Science Snippets

So now we're gonna play pool with the universe and smash a spaceship into an asteroid named Didymos to see what happens.  Has anyone thought about the ricochet?  Or that someone might strike back?
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Fio loves the idea of the ancient continent being discovered between Mauritius and Madagascar.  If only it weren't millions of years ancient, we'd have Atlantis--and that's why Fiorella is a fiction writer rather than a scientist.

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And on a more personal front, Sonya Dog can hear a Milkbone drop to the floor from two rooms away.

Hashimoto's, Begone!

The ever-fertile brain of Fiorella has come up with a treatment for Fio's ever-more-brittle fingernails and toenails--oil them!  So whenever Fio's dealing with cold cream or butter or any other greasy substance, she tries to remember to swipe some of it on her nails. So far, her lube jobs seems to help, but it could be the weather, wishful thinking, or happenstance.

Fio, of course, will keep you updated.

Travelin' Man

Fiorella is fascinated, as she is by many things, by the saga of the Kennewick Man, whose 9,300 year-old skeleton was discovered in the bank of the Columbia River in 1996.  It seems, judging by his diet and the shape of his skull, he didn't come from the inland valley where his remains were found, but from the coast.  And he was more closely relate to the Japanese Ainu than modern-day Native Americans.

Interesting, interesting.  To Fio, that means that even way back when, there was a whole lot of travelin' goin' on.  In fact, probably more than today because people had to follow their food.  And then there were always those dangerous-looking new neighbors to avoid.  Besides, it musta been exciting to  pick up and move to a new place.

And Kennewick Man was one of those who REALLY got around..

Good Review!

Reviewing yesterday's blog, Fiorella suddenly realized that, because her mother refused to drive, Mom was home all day. which is why her house was an HG dream come true.  Fiorella, on the other hand spends hours on the road, and her house shows it.  Excuses, excuses, you say, but Mother never drove over to Sun City and bullheadedly refused to give up her quest till she'd found Friend Suzy's address two hour later.

Speaking of Friend Suzy, she called yesterday afternoon  and raved about HONEYSUCKLE DREAMS, saying it was different from any romance she'd ever read before, that it just kept on going, that she couldn't put it down, and that it would be a best-seller.  Fiorella drank in every every word and hopes the divine Liza will feel the same way, and maybe a publisher or two will too.

Of course, as Fio's told you before, the only reason she can write romances is that her mother is dead.  Although Mother read them--steamy ones--by the score, she'd be terribly embarrassed if people knew her daughter had written one.  Just as Fio's kids are going to be terribly embarrassed that's she's publishing under her own name.

The Life of Leisure

Fiorella had an interesting day yesterday. You know what that means--hell on wheels.  She left about 9:30 in the morning to drive to a nearby shopping center to 1) get copies made of some family photos, and 2) buy new towels for the master bathroom, and 3) replenish the dog treats, then drove into Austin to 1) confront her neurologist's office about her folder being lost, 2) visit a friend who's recovering from hip surgery, 3) have lunch with Friend Paula, and 4) pick up produce at Central Market.  When she reached Georgetown, she returned to the shopping center because she'd suddenly realized she hadn't bought any hand towels--turned out there weren't any to match the other towels she'd bought so she had to mix and match.  Reached home just before four and sent the next hour unloading, calming the hysterical dogs, catching up with emails and telephone calls.

After husband came home--and after he and Fio took out the garbage--she headed off to Friend Suzy's house in Sun City, thinking it would be easy to find.  Wrongo!  Sun City is not laid out on a grid, but in pods, and the only reason Fio finally found Suzy's house was that a nice lady who was taking out her garbage (can't go wrong with someone who is taking out garbage) hopped in her car and showed Fio the way.  Meanwhile it was getting darker and darker, and, as it turned out, Suzy was not at home.  Fio slipped the manuscript her friend had generously agreed to review behind a stone rabbit on her porch, then tried to find her own way out of the pod monster.

After twice around Suzy's loop, Fio found a way out, then turned onto any street that seemed to be well-traveled, but when the street got too dark, she knew she'd turned wrong and went back to a gas station-convenience store combination where a nice young man with a boom-box car (what was he doing in Sun City?) pointed her in the right direction.  She arrived home about eight, an hour later than she'd promised.

Suzy called ten minutes later--she'd had a similar day and had been late getting home, but she found the manuscript so all is well.   All is well.