I, Fabiola, spent time the last few days hunting for the elusive Wild Strawberry. Now, Fabiola loves tame strawberries (the ones in refrigerated cages in the produce section of the local grocery), but WILD strawberries ... 
I, Fabiola am taking a notion and running with it. Notion as in half-baked thought, no, not even that refined. Notion more like that painted cat that a gal could just swear she saw for just a flash right round the corner of her eye, but then when she turns to take a good look ... no painted cat.
Where was Fabiola? Oh. Dear, dear Anony has gone and replaced sugarplums with roller skating pigs in whatever vision Anony is currently having. (If, just possibly, those visions are being caused by something other than a very early Christmas spirit, something like, oh, perhaps, an acid flash-back of some sort, leave Fabiola outa the loop on that one, please dear Anony. Fabiola seems to be living in one of her own and ... )
Twice now in one post. Must have overdone the hairspray this morning.
Regardless, sugarplums and roller skating pigs took Fabiola to ice skating penguins. And there she leaves you for the day.
PS - gotta read the comments on this and the previous post to understand why pigs-n-penguins are skating together. Fabiola world spins slightly faster than the real one.
I, Fabiola, actually lived (in the fairly recent past -- but that would be longer ago than some folk reading this have been alive, but Fabiola is standing on recently) in a house that had rotary phones hard wired into the wall AND the phone service was a party line. Yep, true.
Fabiola is back -- and would like to announce that she spent the entire day accomplishing not one thing.
To see a world in a Grain of Sand,
Fabiola has looked at these clouds from one side only as they are 2 dimensional. Mary painted them on the walls of the spare bedroom. They used to be early morning clouds with touches of pink and yellow, but an amazingly bad local "decorator" took the sunrise outa the clouds.
Housework is what a woman does that nobody notices unless she hasn't done it.
I, Fabiola, grew up in a world where socks were rolled into a neat ball prior to being put away in a drawer. On the other hand, the Fella's mother always just turned down the very top of the socks and called sock storage done.
What is it with all the tiny prints and subtle colors on paper towels? What is it with designs at all? Does anyone actually have a kitchen that matches the prints on paper towels? What came first, Fabiola wonders, the kitchen or the towel.
