Instructions

If when I die, you weep for me
And mourn sweet times that never more will be
Please dry your eyes and go about your day
And smile at everyone you see
And wish them well to bless my memory

On Consideration

Fiorella does not accept challenges from anyone but herself. Life is challenge enough.
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If Fio ever decides to end her own life, she will do so by revving up her baby car to its top speed and driving off a tall cliff so that all she'd have time to say as she fell to a quick and painless death would be "This is interesting."
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The older Fiorella gets, the more dissatisfied she is with her name. She would have preferred Sally, the pretend name she gave herself when she was a child.
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Everyone looked unhappy at H-E-B today so Fio smiled for all of them.
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Don't ever let others define you. You now who you are.

More Introspection

Remember when Fiorella told you that everyone laughed when she said her newborn baby brother was wide asleep? That was when Fio first realized she could bring down the house--and that she liked it. But your faithful correspondent was only a-doin' what came naturally. her maternal grandfather may have been an alcoholic, but "Clown" also had a good sense of humor, which Mom inherited, thank goodness, or Fio would have never trod the earth--Dad had his choice of blind dates and opted for the girl who would be "a lot of fun."

Laughter has gotten Fio through a lot of tough spots and hard times, but she has to be careful because some people don't catch on to her jokes. And, above all, Fio wants to be kind.

Princess Redlander

This is a scene from a romance Fiorella is planning to finish off and publish as soon as her current WIP is finished. The heroine and her date had attended  political gathering at which he'd gotten drunk so the hero, who doesn't much like the heroine,  had to come to the rescue. 

Cotton frowned. Something must be going on.  He hung back under the hotel awning to watch the show. 

A silver Acura ZDX was parked at the curb and Lolly’s date, leaning against onto the valet stand, was arguing with the valet captain while Lolly held a light evening wrap tightly around herself and stood off to the side, as if distancing herself from the scene. 

“I c-can drive,” the kid insisted.  “Jus’ gimme the fuckin’ keys.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Phipps, but I can’t do that,” the valet captain explained.  “I’ve told you--Mike here will take you and your friend”—a nod at Lolly—“wherever you want to go, but we can’t allow you get behind the wheel.  We’ll store your car and you can come pick it up tomorrow.”

The kid swayed forward, pushing himself into the captain’s face.

“Do you know who my f-f-father is?” 

“Yessir, you’ve already told me.  He’s on the Austin City Council.  And if you’ll give me his phone number, I’ll be glad to ask him to come pick you up.”

The crowd was losing patience.  “Get a move on,” a man yelled.  "We're all waiting for our cars." Cotton was pretty sure he recognized Ben Tabor’s voice.

Lolly moved forward a step. “For heaven’s sake, Trey, take the ride.  I need to get home before my aunt calls out the National Guard.”

The kid shot her a killing glance, then turned back to the valet captain.  “Okay, I’ll take your r-ride, but sh-she stays here.”  He whirled. “It’s all your fault, bitch!” 

He lost his balance as he lunged in Lolly’s direction, but a muscular valet grabbed him under the arms, packed him into the back seat of the Ford parked behind the Acura, and drove off.  Another valet hopped into the kid’s car and moved it away from the curb.  Within minutes the traffic jam had been cleared and the car claim was proceeding smoothly. 

The valet captain turned to Lolly.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to wait till Mike gets back.  I can’t spare any more personnel right now.”

Lolly stiffened.  “But I . . . .  Never mind.  I understand.”

Cotton sighed and stepped forward. 

“I’ll give Miss Redlander a ride,” he said, handing his own claim tag over to the valet captain. Lolly was a spoiled brat, but was the right thing to do.   
                                         

Sewing

One thing Fio and Husband have in common is that they both threaded needles for their near-sighted  mothers when they were kids, an essential service to the World War II family--store-bought clothes were limited and expensive. Of course, doting aunts with no children could always be depended on spoil their brothers' offspring. Thus, when Fio was about five and had been taken downtown with her mother and aunt, Aunt Julie said she wanted to buy Fiorella whatever dress she wanted. Fiorella chose a pink dress with black designs on the yoke, sleeves, and hemline, which she thought was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, but Mother throught was garish.  Mom tried to disuade Fio, but Aunt Julie stepped in and Fiorella went home with the dress of her dreams. In fact, she has some old photos of it somewhere around here.

Actually, Fiorella was always well-dressed. Mother had good taste and a flare for design. Fio's Christmas dress one year was cut out of her father's old tennis pants, and the sleeves and neck were embroidered with red and green yarn. Fio's dolls also benefitted from her mother's skills, and Fio still has the snow-suit Mom crocheted for her favorite doll one Christmas.

Fiorella herself learned to sew at a Singer Sewing Machine class when she was twelve and actually made some of her own clothes as an adult--not because she had to, but because she got a kick out of it. But then, Fio has always gotten a kick out of anything she could do herself. She was born that way.

A Beggar on the Intersection Island

Fiorella was chawing down on her first  chunk of chocolate when she spotted the beggar woman on the intersection island holding up a scrawled sign that said, "ANYTHING WILL DO."

Guilt wormed through Fio. Should she hand over her second chunk? But what if the woman was allergic to chocolate or she was diabetic, or what if she rejected Fio's offering because it didn't have a wrapper around it or because she just plain didn't like chocolate? And what if Fio was just making up excuses to herself  for not sharing  her chocolate?

What should she do? How could she decide?

The light changed, the traffic started moving, and the woman turned around and reclaimed her bag and water bottle, so Fiorella finished off the second chunk of chocolate herself.

But did she subconsciously deliberate deliberately so she wouldn't have to share?

Every Morning

If I wake up alive
I will strive
To make the world
A better place
No matter age,
Or sex, or race