Trigger Warning- Frog Ahead

I need to put a warning here but not about the usual topics that might trigger someone. This is about frogs. My Hank has a real thing about frogs. He doesn't hate them. He just doesn't want to be around them. I don't hate them either and I don't mind one being in my relatively non-close space but I DO NOT WANT TO TOUCH ONE. NOOOOO! 
I am pretty sure Hank got this phobia, if indeed it is one, from me. I distinctly remember once when he was just a little bitty guy and we were out in the garden. I was picking strawberries and a toad jumped on me and I screamed. I was probably mostly just startled but I'm sure I scared my poor child to pieces.

But the point is, there is going to be a picture of a frog, so Hank- if you don't want to see it, skip this post. I'll wait until later on in the post to tell the frog story. It's not really that interesting anyway. 

It's been a perfect day, weather-wise, in my opinion. It's been raining softly all day long and it's been cool. Not a pouring-down, drench-you rain, just a nice constant pattering and not a cold day, just a cool one. I do love days like this. I had to go to town but it wasn't scary driving at all. I took it slow and easy. Tomorrow is Rachel's birthday and I wanted to get her a present. I knew what I wanted to get her, and met Jessie at the place where one gets these items. 
Okay, it's a kitchen supply shop and it could keep me fascinated for hours. A guy I know from way, way back in the day works there now which makes it even better. I met him through my darling Sue-Sue and honey, that was a long time ago. She was in his wedding because she was good friends with the bride. They are still married and he talks about his wife as sweetly as if they'd just gotten married last year. They have one daughter whom they obviously adore and are very proud of. So that's nice energy to be around. 
Jessie and I looked at stuff. A lot of stuff. Dreamy stuff like more Le Creuset, magical kitchen devices of all sorts, bowls, cooking utensils, and a wall of olive oils and vinegars. 
Oh. Dear. God. 
I tasted one vinegar. ONE. It was a black garlic balsamic with Tamari. It may have ruined my life to discover that elixirs of this nature are available for sale and that I have wasted all these years not knowing about them. Holy shit. 
Sigh. 
There are so many things that I "could" use if I bought them at stores like that. Not ridiculous things either. I've needed a pie server my entire adult life and never do get around to buying one. I mean- a spatula works pretty well. One of those screens that goes over a pan when you're cooking bacon or frying something to prevent splatters would be nice but I usually cook bacon in the oven and hardly ever fry anything in a pan. So...nah.
Jessie laughs at me. 
"Mom! Spend some money! It's okay!"
And I do spend money on myself. I really do. But a weird thing is happening to me lately wherein I just think, "Well, hell. How long am I going to be around to enjoy this object?" And it just seems more practical and realistic not to buy shit that my kids are going to have to deal with. This attitude even extends to things like jewelry. Years and years ago Glen got me a ring with my grandmother's engagement diamond in the middle and two lovely diamonds on either side of it. I have worn it for years. About six months or so ago, Granny's stone appeared to be blurry. I tried to clean it which did no good. Something has broken in that stone. It has always had an obvious occlusion, a tiny, tiny black speck of the coal from which it was formed, I suppose. I loved that tiny speck. When I looked at it, I could remember my Granny telling me that Granddaddy had only been able to afford a larger stone because of that imperfection in it. That sort of summed up Granddaddy right there- practicality and pragmatic in all ways, even in romance. 
But. Now the stone is not pretty. I'd still happily wear it like as a pendant for a necklace just for the emotional value but it looks wrong with those two near-perfect stones flanking it. And Glen has offered to get me another ring made, perhaps even with one different stone. I've always fancied an emerald cut. 
But here I am, about to be seventy and why in god's name would I need a big ol' diamond ring? I don't. I mean, no one does, really. He keeps asking me what I want to do and I just keep putting him off. He's given me some really beautiful jewelry in our time together and I do love it but it's him I love. And my knuckles are getting so swollen and knobby that I don't really feel the need to draw attention to them. Now don't get me wrong- I'm not ashamed of my hands or my fingers. Not at all. I think they are beautiful because they have served me so well and they look the way they look because of all the work I've done with them and all the babies I've held with them and all the writing I've done with them and all the love and comfort I have expressed through them. 
Oh my goodness. I've just about convinced myself I DO need a new ring. These fingers deserve some beauty! 
Okay. Maybe I'll put that project back on the burner. But honestly, I don't need a splatter preventer. 

I got Rachel what I think is a nice present and I hope she likes it but if it's not what she wants, she can take it back and get what she does! That makes me happy. 

Lily met Jessie and me at a Cuban restaurant after we finished our shopping and we had such a good time. The food was great, our server could not have been more attentive or sweet. He called me "Mama" so of course I loved him. I am really getting good in my new career of going to lunch. I am getting dang skillful at it! 

All right. I think I'm safe to post the frog picture now.

That was not a tiny frog. He wasn't enormous but probably at least four or five inches from nose to the backs of those things frogs have where feet would go. Jack brought him in and deposited him in the bathroom off the kitchen and was quite proud to show him to me. This was right before I left to go to St. Mark's to meet everyone for lunch on Sunday. 
As I said, I do not touch frogs and I couldn't figure out how to trap him without being in danger of inadvertent touch so I left him a little bowl of water, closed the door, and left, figuring that my husband (my hero!) would take care of it when he got home. 

When we did get back, the water in the bowl looked like it had a little dust in it and there was what I assume was some frog scat in the shower. Wasn't that polite of him to poop in the shower? 
But. There was no frog in that bathroom to be found. 
He really was too big to get out under the door. So- a mystery. Where did Mr. Frog go?
When I got home today, Glen told me that he'd found the frog. He'd made it all the way to the laundry room and he almost escaped under the dryer which would not have been good but the man caught the amphibian who was covered in dust and lint and took him outside and rinsed him off in the gutter and let him go. He said he hopped away with great alacrity. Or, something like that, the point being, he seemed fine. 

I wonder if that was one of my bird frogs? 
Well, he has a story to tell. I sure wish I could hear his version of it. 

Off to make shrimp salad! Having all of these beautiful lettuces in the garden and knowing how soon they will all go to seed, I feel it almost a sin not to eat salad day and night. 
Oh my god. I should have gotten some of that vinegar. Now that would be worth spending some money on. 

Love...Ms. Moon