The Frog Story...

No, not the story about putting a frog in a pan of cold water and heating it up and the dumb frog doesn't realise. The story about the frogs in the toilet cisterns and toilet bowls in outback OZ!!



I have been having nightmares ever since Second Born Son (SBS) told me in a phone call from Fitzroy Crossing, that that was part of his and his beloveds' job. Removing the frogs from the toilet systems. I tried to visualize them in the toilets, googly eyes peering up at up as you peed down on them or worse. I imagined he&she, plunging their arms into the loos to remove these unwelcome guests. Apparently the paying guests don't much like having these freeloading frogs in the loos.


He explained that they wore big rubber gloves, plucked the frogs out, put them in buckets of water which they covered, so the frogs couldn't see where they were going before they returned them to the river.








By now my neck was tingling with the imagined creepiness of it all!!

He said it wasn't too bad really!!

Judge for yourself. They look a bit belligerent to me. And they still give me the creeps.

SBS & his beloved have since moved from the frog place. That is no longer part of their duties. They are now running a brand new hotel in the Kimberly region and just have to deal with the fact that the building is not quite complete and that they will need to leave before the rainy season or they will be stuck there for a bit longer than they planned. They too are adventurers. The stories will continue. We are a family with a good pedigree in oral and written storytelling.

First Born Son, FBS is a wonderful orator. I love his stories. He is somewhat anxious being the only child physically available to me. He lives in the same city and threatened to change his phone number when I started muttering about taking him to feed the ducks at the park, like we used to when he was a little boy. These two are mature and wonderful young men, neither of whom needs a regressing mother mollycoddling them!!! (So I tell myself and they tell me!!)

FBS's stories revolve around his job in the key nightspots of Auckland. He says who can and cannot enter certain premises. He keeps me in hysterics with his retelling of drunken customers and their attempts at wrangling with him. My favourite is of a drunken midget, (FBS is well over 6'),who repeatedly threw himself at FBS, trying to punch him while at the same time accusing him of picking on him for being a midget. FBS replied, "No, it's not that mate it's just that you're pissed!! "

There are many more stories where these have come from. When we all get together there is much laughter and a wonderful feeling of belonging. We have Shelley in our hearts and their grief too is vast and painful.

They are my rocks. My solid grounding souls. They are so wise and generous. When I am down they bring me up and say we all have to live our lives bigger and better because of Shelley. I am doing my best and having their love means I can keep on trying. One for all and all for one. That's how we roll.

Arohanui

KG