A couple of years ago, the bulk food store where we shop for whole grains, flour, bulk spices, and other unprocessed foods, had a certain had an assortment of wooden frogs for sale at about the time one those days was approaching where one might expect to receive a present from a certain special other someone.
So Richard bought me the frog.
And it came home to live with the rest of the fake frogs who have taken up residence in our house (one winter we had a real live frog living in our bathroom, but that's a story for another time).
One takes the stick and runs it up the ridges on the back and then taps the nose, and it makes a croaking sound.
Last summer there was a frog or toad croaking in one of the oak trees by the back door, and I took Wood Frog out and ran the stick up over the ridges in its back to see if the real frog would answer me, but it didn't.
In the last day or two, I have read about half of the book Life's Too Short to Fold Your Underwear, and she has already covered "Life's Too Short to Collect Stuff,." which has given me pause for thought about the wisdom of investing money in -- or asking someone to buy me -- stuff that sits on a shelf. Oh dear. But that too is a topic for another day.
In any event, my sister and her girls went to Palm Springs for a little weekend get-away before school started in the Fall, and she found a wood frog just like mine - well, almost like mine - which she bought for our father as a present.
Now, Dad and Mom have this phone plan where they pay a flat amount every month for long distance calling and then don't get charged any more, so they call me every Saturday. And now often the first thing I hear when I answer the phone is his croaking frog, so of course, my frog must croak back.
And then we laugh and get on with the joking around and sharing the week's news.