The incredible disappearing frog.

This is the last of the out-of-order posts. I had forgotten about it until Leonore reminded me. Thanks Leonore!!

This morning at six-ish, I get up to start a very busy day and stumble into the bathroom to do my thing when I spy something out of the corner of my eye. Being absurdly nearsighted I have to get pretty close to see what it is. EGAD! There is a gigantic frog on my bathroom wall where it meets the ceiling.

Now the problem is, how to remove the frog. No problem, Katie the animal catcher is home from college this weekend. So I rush into her room scaring the heck out of her and dragging her, half asleep, into the bathroom. She takes one look at the critter and slams on the brakes. Apparently it is over the size limit for in-house removal. That's it kid, no more trips home if you can't earn your keep. So it’s just me and the humongous frog. I grab the desk chair out of Katie's room and snatch a paper towel and go after this beast ALONE. As I grab for him, I must have scared the living daylights out of him because he makes this major leap to the opposite wall and pee's all over my hand, foot and the desk chair. Aarrghhh!

The chase is on. I try and grab and he leaps and Katie roars with laughter. He’s in the corner and I am going to trap him with a towel. As I go to plant one foot, he leaps under it. Now I want him out of my bathroom but I don't want dead squishy frog guts under my foot so I try and retrieve my foot which of course sends me off balance. I careen off one wall and onto my 58 year old butt and have to listen to Katie howling and the damn frog is in mid air headed somewhere else. Meanwhile, Frank is at the bottom of the stairs demanding to know what all the racket is. Katie, in between gales of laughter, tells him and what does the old fart do??? He snickers and walks away muttering, "I don't do frogs." What is with my family?

Finally, I get him trapped with the towel under the corner of the sink. I leave him with a very reluctant Katie, run down to grab some Tupperware and head back upstairs. I gently pull away the towel and what the heck????? No FROG. So where is the wretched thing?. Not in the towel. Katie suggests it is clinging to the overhang of the sink cabinet. Down on all fours, I discover after 11 years in this house that there is an opening to a blind spot where the cabinet hits the wall. My guess is the frog is somewhere now in the bowels of the house. Which of course would explain how not one but two frogs got all the way up stairs and into the bathroom when the poor chameleon never make it three feet past the front door. Oh and where are my three precious critter snatching cats while all this is going on? Standing in a row at the other door, watching intently. Do I think I caught a smug look of laughter from Brutus. Yes!!!

I am off to finish this day and wonder when and where the lovely green beastie is going to strike next.

Chapter 2

Well, yesterday went well and we got Katie safely back to college. Got home exhausted and ordered pizza. I actually had forgotten all about my frog episode with all the other things going on. That is until. I was getting ready for bed. Dressed in just my bra and panties, I headed for the potty. Before I got there, I noticed a small blackish blob the size of your pinky nail sitting on the far edge of the bath tub up against the tile wall. We have sliding doors on the tub/shower and they were both down toward the faucets and drain. Anyway, I went in for a closer look but damn, it looked like poop. What the heck?? So I get some toilet paper and it IS poop!!! ACK!!!! Who would poop on the edge of my bathtub???

Something in the lower edge of the tub catches my attention and I looked toward the front corner and there lodged on the edge of the tub up against the shower slider was the freaking frog.

Since I am a lazy soul, the Tupperware container I had brought up earlier was still in the bathroom. Luckily my first swoop garnered a very frantic frog. Let me tell you, that sucker had strong legs. He kept trying to pop the lid off as I was trying to slam it back on. So now I had him in the container, what the heck do I do with him. So I decided, he who doesn't do frogs, is about to do them. NOW!!!

Now granted, I am a tad freaked but it wasn't until I was running through the living room with all the lights on and the curtains open that I realize the neighbors must have gotten the oddest shot of a half crazed, scantily clad, red head dashing through the house with a mad frog in Tupperware.

I bounded into Frank's den and thrust said frog in his face and demand removal. To his credit, he never blinked an eye, he just grabbed the container and hit the road. A few minutes later, he was back minus one green visitor.

This morning without me saying a word, I found him on the floor, plastering the hole under the sink.

Note: Since this actually happened in September, I am happy to report that there have been no further frog sightings.

Sunrise

Katie asked last night if we could go take sunrise shots at the lighthouse. So 5:30 a.m. and we are up and rolling. Well, after smashing the snooze button to death and grumbling a lot about the validity of decisions made while imbibing a glass of Cabernet. . . we tripped over things in the dark trying not to wake Frank. Yeah, right. A herd of elephants would have made less of a commotion. . . . we finally headed south. The lighthouse is part of a state park and there are a maze of garden paths, planked walkways and of course the beach. I gave up on the paths after running through my second spider web and reading the information sign about the native rattlers. We managed several shots of the lighthouse and then separated to see who could find photos of what. While she headed more toward the inlet, I headed straight for the beach. We met at the jetty. Being blind as a bat, I cannot see what shots I have until I get home and get them on my computer. I think I did OK. Can't wait to see hers, when she wakes up again.

p.s. That is Katie on the jetty.

Christmas Morning. . .

. . . is utter chaos. What happened to our manners? First the stocking stuffers, silly . . gummy bears to Tide To Go Pens. . . to wonderful . . .a coupon for a massage at the day spa. . . whap. . whap. . whap. . , hey I'm being bombarded by Christmas wrapping paper balls. Thwap! Right in the head. There's Katie trying to look innocent and Frank staring off into space. .

And then the opening begins in earnest. The paper really starts to fly, add three cats and their cat nip toys and its insane. Frank is buried in his boxes, Katie is munching on pistachios found in a stocking, her loot piled around here . . and I am ecstatic with my cat mug, bizarre winter hats to be loved for their innate ugliness, plenty of goodies with which to get creative, my yearly fix of Norman Rockwell .. . life is good. How did I deserve a family that “gets” me. Love them one and all, all year round.

Christmas Eve Nonsense. . .

Another great day in my little corner of the world. . . We started opening presents Christmas Eve. The ooh's and aww's, the squeals of delight, the hugs and glee as Kaity finds her iPod, Craig his Atlanta Braves jacket. . . . The sighs of deep happiness. . . family together on Christmas Eve. And then of course the commotion. . . I made each of the three resident mousers their own catnip toys. Moak who would not leave me alone during the process was given his early. When he crashed in utter euphoria, I snatched it and hung it up to dry. I also made four for Stacie's beasties, and stashed them in her purse. It was a surprise however, in the midst of everything, to find Moak with yet another "toy". Since his was still hanging, and the others were on the mantle 'til morning, where did this one come from? And why is there a $5 bill hanging out of Stacie's purse. Ut oh . . . . someone had been foraging . Silly animal.

The newer smaller edition

Ta da!!! Ok, so it is a little drab, but at 4.5x4.75, it is something I can keep up with before my mind heads in a different direction. The inside is still a mystery, while I wait for the next burst of energy.

Is smaller ever better?

In 2005, I put together my very first yearly journal. I had a great time with it but at 7x10 and each month having two double spreads, it was not only cumbersome, it was hard to keep up with. I still have not finished it. Sigh. So for 2007 I decided try something a little more compact. Not sure how it will turn out.

Beautiful

Katie got up early this morning, a rarity for her. Surprisingly, the first question out of her mouth was, what time does the sun come up, and with that, she was off and running. When I caught up with her later on, she showed me her morning’s efforts. Spectacular!
I love that she caught the morning light. Great shots.

Tell me again why I love cats

Aaaarrrrgh. We have the "bug" here. I just got over it, having gotten it from my husband and since he was so nice and shared. I shared back. Yep, poor guy has it again. Where is this leading? The litter box. It didn't get cleaned when it should have and when I finally got to it, there was Moaky with his back legs crossed looking at me with his most pathetic cocked head look, while inside his little brain was screaming, "Hurry up, Lady!". Moaky has a quaint history of waiting until you have completely emptied the old litter and just laid a fresh liner but have turned your back to get the new litter when he sneaks into the box and pees in the liner. Today was no different. There he was, waiting for a fresh liner. I had to work fast. But he was faster. There were the liners still lying on the floor waiting for me to put them in place when, whoosh, through my legs he runs and squats on the liners. Obviously, they are, at the moment, nothing more than slippery plastic on the floor with no depth or way to contain fluid. ACK! And worse, Moaky's feet are starting to slip out from under him and his bottom, still doing what it is designed to do, is gradually sinking toward the ever increasing puddle. So idiot that I am, I put one foot on either side of his so he will stop slipping and let him continue his thing. He nods appreciatively and leaves when done, like this is an every day service. Meanwhile I am making a mad dash to contain the flood. I finally get new liners, fill the boxes with litter and clean up the mess and retreat to my safe little corner of the universe. And what is my husband's only comment? Why do I smell bleach! MEN!!!!

Surprises

Ever since I was little, there has been a special kind of joy that only comes from a surprise in the mail.

I love opening the mailbox to find an unannounced package, a little bundle that needs to be examined with care from the outside first, turned over and over in the hands, inspected and touched and mulled over. Then the slow process of opening the package by removing tape or pulling on the strings, the unraveling of paper and twine, the peeking, bit by bit into the inner workings until the box itself is revealed and then the guessing, the gentle shaking, the rotating and wonderment. Once the box is gently pried open, layers of tissue paper and bubble wrap are gently peeled back hinting of the fragileness within. One layer then two and one more as the wrappings fall away until I am holding the last of the bubble wrap plump with its treasure. Gently my fingers revealing their prize, a beautiful hand made Christmas ornament of pink and blue swirls inside a clear glass bulb and hung with soft fat matching fibers, perfect for my tree and its collection of ornaments each with its own special meaning. And then I look again and the laughter bubbles up until my sides ache and the family wants to know if I have lost my mind. The subtle flamingos have become evident and I am hysterical.

Only Michelle could be responsible. Thank you so much for the surprise, the laughter and the friendship. It is a very good day.

This is me in a nut shell. Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate. I'm definitely, a bare footed, blue jean clad, child of the 60's. One of my favorite quips came from an adult talking with my daughter. Katie to adult, "My mom used to be a hippy." Adult to Katie. "Honey, your mom still is a hippy." Am I? No. . . . too many life changes. But I still keep the child in me close by. Without her, I wouldn't be me.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday. Blame it on elementary school when we would all gather in the gym and sing songs by following the bouncing ball on the big pull down screen with the lyrics:

We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing;he chastens and hastens his will to make known;the wicked oppressing now cease from distressing:sing praise to his Name, he forgets not his own.Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,ordaining, maintaining his kingdom divine;so from the beginning the fight we were winning:thou, Lord, wast at our side: all glory be thine!We all do extol thee, thou leader triumphant,and pray that thou still our defender wilt be.Let thy congregation escape tribulation:thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

The words still float back to me each year. There is just something special about Thanksgiving. I love having family here, the wonderful food smells wafting though the house, everyone gathered in the kitchen, the commotion of getting everything on the table, the sound of knives and forks clicking and realizing everyone is suddenly silent, eating at my table.

This year had its ups and downs. Sadly, Craig's dog, Gypsy, took suddenly ill and had to be put down. You CAN hear a heart break.

But there were special moments to. The kind that warm your heart. Craig, needing something to occupy himself, led the attack on the overgrown hedge that Frank, with his broken hand, had not been able to trim. Katie and Kaitlyn temporarily joined in the fray. Men outside working, women busy in the kitchen. Yes, I am joyfully old fashioned this time of year. And suddenly Jackie and Joey appeared. Of course they had been invited but had other family obligations. Plans change. Joe wanted to call ahead and say they were coming. Jackie stopped him. She knew, just knew, how much it meant to me to add two more to the table this day, as a special surprise!. Katie said her first Catholic grace. I loved hearing Joe, Jackie and Frank join in to help her. You have to ask Katie about the "ant hills". Coconut cream pie is favored over pumpkin, six to two, with only one abstention. The moments pour forth and for each and every one, happy or sad, I am thankful, this special day.