a boy, a dog, and a frog.

When D and I first started "decorating" our rental house we had bought a couple of sheik shelves and tables from Target. It's higher echelon low-middle income Amercia, Target you know? It's skies above Wal Mart in concept and design. He said, tongue in cheek. Anyhow. So we had this fancy table and shelves in dark wood but nothing to put on them. We weren't 'collectibles' kind of people. I mean, sure I still I had my Wicket the Ewok and D. had his scary clown doll from Iceland...but no knick knacks and no brick n' bracks.

Can 'collectibles' be a conscious effort? Do you one day just say, "I want to start collecting Geese," or "I'm going to start putting cheesy wooden crafty things such as ladies bending over in my front yard?" I think since I tend to over think most everything I do I've never collected anything. For me, I would begin to take note of, "I just gathered my 5th dainty ceramic shoe. What's the point of this? What have I become?" and then the fun would just be gone.

We decided to just go to The Hobby Lobby (or the Hob Lob as D likes to call it.) It's the ultimate hobby/craft/knick knack/crucifix/holiday store in all the lands. They have shelves and shelves and wooden balls in bowls, ceramic eggs in cubes, shadowboxes of fireman and fisherman, exotic throw pillows of the sort found in genie lamps. And all sorts of other things people should and probably do collect...like shiny objects. Bowls. Vases. The like. We probably sucked at picking things out and it was much more difficult than I expected.

The point to this is because I'm getting tired both of the wind up and for real... We bought a couple of frogs for the bathroom. One of metal, but hollow with holes cut through out and you place a candle in his belly and he lights up the room. The other of wood with dangly legs. He sat with his legs in the sink...but recently he was moved to the back of the toilet. He would just sit there. Watching you pee. I think D. must have gotten bugged by this because today I noticed the frog is now turned; staring at the wall.

I think when we move into our new home I will keep collecting frogs for the bathroom. Why? You ask. Or maybe not but I'm asking that for you...so there. I was thinking of the connection I have with frogs and bathrooms and it made sense to me. When I was a kid I would stay with my Grandparents most every weekend. Grandma and Grandpa H were who I looked forward to seeing all week long. My home life was shaky and I never knew what was going to happen. But at my Grandparents it was perfect and planned. Planned to have ice cream served in little ice cream bowls and eaten with small ice cream spoons before bed. Planned set the table at night for breakfast in the morning. And planned to have a story read to me before I slept. The story I always picked was of a boy and a frog. It was a very short book of just pictures, no words, but my Grandma or Grandpa would tell in their own.

(This is how I remember the story...I just googled it and it was a Mercer Mayer book. hmmm I didn't know. And it was a little bit different than I remembered. But that's memories...)

A small boy walked down to the creek to do some fishing. He looked happy and excited. He had his fishing pole and his tackle box. Once he got to the pond he noticed a quite wily frog who taunted him while he fished. The boy wanted to catch the frog. And tried several times only to be outsmarted and outwitted by the frog. A muddy mess from his attempts the boy decided he best walk home and clean up before his mother caught him in such a state of filth. (they were a clean family don't you know) Anyhoo, the frog followed the boy home. He followed the trail of mud and shoes and pants and shirt up the stairs to the bathroom and found the boy taking a bath. He jumped into the tub to surprise him and the boy was so happy the frog was there.

That is the story. Such a simple simple story, and yet I looked forward to hearing it every weekend. I planned on it.