Why Does The Caged Frog Sing?

Welcome to my menagerie

Today was a glorious day. I've written nearly 50,000 words of my first young adult novel and it's almost finished. Well, the first draft is almost complete. I know when the feedback comes in there will be tons to change and this concern is keeping me from racing across the finish line. UGH. I've sold well over 100 Ebooks this month and will probably break 200 by the time these April showers dissipate. To celebrate we ordered from Fresh Direct and when Logan got home from today's shoot he carried in a giant box of flowers for me that he'd pulled from the leftover wedding episode. We were supposed to get fake-married on this episode but then the producers found a real unwed couple. However, this couple couldn't supply fifty friends so thirty extras were hired. Shoulda used us! We're busting at the seams with friends (very photogenic ones at that!)

This week has been good with the exception of Daisy having a weird hacking cough. She's gotten Kennel Cough before, usually because I was stupid enough to let her drink from a communal water bowl at Runyon Canyon (shudder!) But this came right after she'd been chewing on rawhide. Eep. Guilt. Shame. The idiot at Petco swore to me that compressed rawhide was different. But much like dating a bi-sexual, rawhide will never change, no matter how much it promises it's "gone straight." I Googled like mad after she puked in the middle of the night. Then the constipation set in. But we've had two good days during which her poop has been magnifique! So it looks like she's in the clear. Except for that cough. I was hopeful that it might be a hairball. I spent most of Monday grooming the girls which included a faux hawk for Daisy and a teddy bear cut for Wools. THEY LOOK AMAZING!!! But I jumped the gun a bit on the weather being warm so they're forced to wear the sweaters I knitted them. (Operation: Sweater Wear worked perfectly.) 

Ever since I adopted these two crazy little dogs my life feels complete. I know a lot of people who aren't at all excited about animals and it baffles me. Sometimes when I'm trolling the Pets section on Craigslist it hits me: I'm like a married man looking at the Casual Encounters section just to "see what else is out there." I don't need more pets. Yet just like that loser husband, I wouldn't mind having more to squeeze. But then I look into the warm brown eyes of my tiny redheasd and I feel very satisfied. Until I end up in Petco's basement trying to figure out what to feed a frog that I'm buying.

Logan has furnished our apartment with $2000 worth of white leather dining chairs and many other accents from the set - stuff that we weren't going to buy since we're pretty sure this move back to NYC was just to "get it out of our systems." I think we're going back to Hollywood and maybe quite soon. If it's soon, that means something freakingunbelievablyawesome took off for one of us (I can't jinx it!) Okay, but it's not me - it's Logan. If I go back to L.A. it's because Winter cripples my soul and I also want to grow fruit trees. I've learned that I can be a writer anywhere. New York is so oppressive. I need to live where I can't hear my neighbors unless they're killing each other with amped up chainsaws. I also want a real yard for my wee Sheebas. And a fish pond. And a chicken coop that I built with my own two hands, housed with hens whom I cradle in my arms daily (picture Mike Tyson smoochin' all up on his pigeons but CUTER!)

After much cuddling and Chinese food, Logan passed out. He's working 12+ hour days and I'm so impressed and proud of him. I've been staying busy getting to write all day while a man supports me. Hey, it happens. I supported him just a few months ago. I've never had a partner that's so generous. It's all "our" money and nobody gets petty about it. It's little things like this that I never thought I'd find in someone to whom I was so spellbindingly attracted. I attribute all of his amazing characteristics to a very long awkward phase that built worlds of character. He's the total package. 

When we first crossed the friend line (after the new year - I needed that much alone time before I could start rubbing someone else's stink all over myself) Logan had informed me, "I don't do flowers. Never have, never will." 

Flowers shmowers. But he'd also never been in love before. I don't think a week has passed without him bringing me flowers - even if he snagged them from the set of a televised wedding. He'd also told me he would never get down on one knee to propose. Um, cut to just a few months later on my WELCOME mat... 

When I get goofy over the dogs, the fish, the snails and the frog, Logan tolerates it like a champ. Tonight I was writing while listening to the creepy creaking that's been coming from the wall we share with our obnoxiously loud neighbors. I assumed they had some sort of oscillating fan or something over there to produce this eery sound. I'm also on edge from watching Insidious over a week ago. The other night I turned off the lights and then thought, "INSIDIOUS!"

I ran for the bathroom but misjudged where it lives, running into the doorframe and cracking my skull so hard that cartoon tweety birds fell out of it. Insidious also inspired me to watch a bunch of ghost hunter shows which completely wrecked me. Can a ghost hunter show give you diarrhea? Maybe not you, but it did me. 

So I'm sitting here tonight in dim yet adorable lighting, listening to this creek when it FINALLY dawns on me that THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!! 

By "call" I mean "CROAK" and by "house" I mean "FISHBOWL." 

My tiny African dwarf frog, about an inch when he's all stretched out, is making that noise. (This is almost exactly what it sounds like.) I read that they sing to attract mates, establish dominance over territory, or to announce rain (Good call, Frog, it's been raining A LOT.) I don't care why, I love it! Now that I know it's my sweet little frog the noise has completely changed for me. Now it's endearing and adorable - just like my husband's twitching! 

I'm also pretty sure that I'll need to "sex" a few frogs at the pet store and find a nice lady for my little gentleman chirper. They say if you get a pear-shaped one she's ready for breeding! (So true.) We can afford one more tiny mouth to feed. I just hope my little man frog is prepared to do the knee and flower thing. The ladies are total suckers for that crap!