Comforting things

The mercury is taking a bit of a dip tonight so as is the custom, I broke out the froggy fleece robe. When Mr. F's slightly eccentric, now departed aunt bought this garment for me ten years ago, she ensured (perhaps unintentionally) that I would be reminded of her every time I wrapped myself in it. When I first met her thirty years ago, I had mentioned that I adore frogs, which ensured a steady stream of frog-themed gifts for the next two decades; usually one for my birthday and one for Christmas.

I haven't kept all of them through the years and quite frankly, always dreaded a visit from her because I knew there would come a point at which she would say: "So how many froggy things do you have now? Maybe we should look at them all." Most of them were rather memorable, due to being either beautiful or ghastly.

There was the red plastic one from Hong-Kong, made to look like carved cinnabar-a fierce looking creature with red plastic jewels for eyes, clutching and squeezing the life out of a squirming earth worm-that one didn't make the cut. She followed it up with a very delicate and tasteful silver filigree brooch the following frog-giving-occasion. I still have that. The next memorable one was a homely, plain looking creature in a very static pose, cast from the ashes of the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens. Despite its historic meaning I didn't keep it very long because it...well, it looked a bit like a fossilized turd. Had it been an actual fossilized lump of excrement, I would have been more inclined to keep it. My absolute favorite frog she ever sent me was made of blown glass; a small, elegant and highly stylized little figurine, solid and heavy for its size. None of them has what this robe has though-a certain comfort factor. She would be pleased to know that.

There was still a bit of cleaning and organizing left to do after last night's get-together but I had help from the neighborhood critters. The back yard was swarming with finches, blue jays and squirrels all day, picking up every last crumb and bit that the kids dropped. How kind of them.

Right now my cat is scooting around her climbing tree and making chirping noises, which is her way of getting my attention and starting a game-time to drag a fake mouse around and get her to move-she's on vet's orders to drop two pounds. Because she is feral I can't take the chance to let her out-sad for her and also the reason she is spreading around the waist. Off I go.