ahream

I don’t have children. But I imagine someday I probably will.* And I imagine that some time after that, a small person with my husband’s enormous blue eyes will look up at me and ask, “Can we have a puppy?”

What I didn’t foresee was that the person would actually be six feet tall and the original possessor of said blue eyes. And I didn’t foresee that he would say, “What would you think about getting a frog?”

(Insert head smack here.)

My first reaction, after the head slap:

“Eww. Eww. Eww. Ewwwwww.” Followed by the sudden urge to scrunch up my eyes and hop up and down like a five year old. “Groooossss.” I don’t do frog. Or lizard. Or bugs. Or for that matter spiders, snakes or worms.

(You can ask my dad about the worm thing. Taking me fishing for the first time as a small child is one of his favorite embarrassing stories to tell.)

Fortunately, this conversation with my husband is taking place over instant message, which means he can’t actually see me sticking out my tongue and clenching my fists. Then he sends me an e-mail filled with pictures of his new favorite frog species – I swear I am not making this up – The Monkey Frog. (It’s worth noting that my husband loves anything with the word “monkey” in it.)

These pictures are not reassuring. The amphibious little slime factories look suspiciously poisonous. The last picture is of a baby monkey frog. It’s the size of the tip of a human finger. I imagine it loose in the house, crawling up my leg at night under the covers. I nearly have an epileptic fit sitting at my desk.

Ewwww doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Then I get the following series of instant messages. Again, I am not making this up.

Him: “Teehehe...”

Me: “Yes?”

Him: “I looked at that picture of the baby monkey frog again. It makes me smile and giggle.”

Me: “I love you.”

Him: “And I love you.”

That’s pretty much when I caved.

According to the Humane Society, there are 65 million owned dogs in this country. I have a sinking suspicion 64 million of them were acquired after a similar conversation.

Don’t worry, he says, it’s going to take me awhile to work up to the frog. I want to get the terrarium going right first.

To me, this sounds a lot like, “I’ll feed him and walk him everyday. I swear.”

*No, dear parents, I don’t know when. Don’t ask. I have to raise frogs first.

ahream Dispatches from the City of Angels I'm a mystery writer living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my short story, "Running Venice," in the new anthology LAndmarked for Murder. Look for it in bookstores and on Amazon.com now. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (2) Most Recent Twitters: A 3-foot long alligator was found walking down the middle of the street in Venice Beach this morning. I love L.A. In case you were wondering, it is very difficult to get a hummingbird out of your house. They are irrational and prone to hysterics. L.A. Finds: The Nickel Diner on Main between 5th and 6th is a made-to-look-old, throwback of a place that melds into the old downtown and is, at the same time, part of the renaissance. They serve their burgers medium, their soda in bottles and offer all they can to locals in need. Flickr Updates: The second Thursday of every month is the Downtown Art Walk. The galleries stay open late, the restaurants are packed, bands perform on the streets. God, I love L.A. What I'm Reading: Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks by Christopher Brookmyre What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami Want E-Mail Updates? Click here, type your e-mail address into the first field (for public entries) and receive an e-mail note each time a new blog post goes up. (Photo updates, Twitters and "L.A. Finds" features not included. Those you have to swing by and check yourself.) Absolutely, positively no spam. Promise. Other author blogs: Sue Ann Jaffarian Eric Stone Christa Faust Lipstick Chronicles		2006-06-26 7:02 PM In march the frogs... I don’t have children. But I imagine someday I probably will.* And I imagine that some time after that, a small person with my husband’s enormous blue eyes will look up at me and ask, “Can we have a puppy?” What I didn’t foresee was that the person would actually be six feet tall and the original possessor of said blue eyes. And I didn’t foresee that he would say, “What would you think about getting a frog?” (Insert head smack here.) My first reaction, after the head slap: “Eww. Eww. Eww. Ewwwwww.” Followed by the sudden urge to scrunch up my eyes and hop up and down like a five year old. “Groooossss.” I don’t do frog. Or lizard. Or bugs. Or for that matter spiders, snakes or worms. (You can ask my dad about the worm thing. Taking me fishing for the first time as a small child is one of his favorite embarrassing stories to tell.) Fortunately, this conversation with my husband is taking place over instant message, which means he can’t actually see me sticking out my tongue and clenching my fists. Then he sends me an e-mail filled with pictures of his new favorite frog species – I swear I am not making this up – The Monkey Frog. (It’s worth noting that my husband loves anything with the word “monkey” in it.) These pictures are not reassuring. The amphibious little slime factories look suspiciously poisonous. The last picture is of a baby monkey frog. It’s the size of the tip of a human finger. I imagine it loose in the house, crawling up my leg at night under the covers. I nearly have an epileptic fit sitting at my desk. Ewwww doesn’t even begin to cover it. Then I get the following series of instant messages. Again, I am not making this up. Him: “Teehehe...” Me: “Yes?” Him: “I looked at that picture of the baby monkey frog again. It makes me smile and giggle.” Me: “I love you.” Him: “And I love you.” That’s pretty much when I caved. According to the Humane Society, there are 65 million owned dogs in this country. I have a sinking suspicion 64 million of them were acquired after a similar conversation. Don’t worry, he says, it’s going to take me awhile to work up to the frog. I want to get the terrarium going right first. To me, this sounds a lot like, “I’ll feed him and walk him everyday. I swear.” *No, dear parents, I don’t know when. Don’t ask. I have to raise frogs first. Read/Post Comments (2) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top