F.R.O.G.

I should never make eye contact with strangers. That's where the trouble usually begins. Once eye contact has been made I am filled with a feeling of visceral dread. Because then they will talk. To me. A total stranger. And tell me things I would prefer not to have clogging up my brain. I made the mistake of, just for the briefest of seconds, making eye contact with a woman ahead of me in line a few years ago. She smiled in a mildly disturbing manner while she fingered the large and hideous pendant hanging from a substantial chain around her neck. It was a frog, approximately life size. She leaned in closer, shrugged her shoulders, and proceeded with her confession. "Know what this is?" she asked. Well, it was obvious what it was and I really didn't want any further explanation. Giving me no time for an answer or even a guess, she answered the question herself. "It's a frog!" she exclaimed. She turned away and for a fleeting second I was relieved that our little encounter was over. But no! She was merely checking the progress of the check-out line. She turned back toward me. "Know what F.R.O.G. stands for?" she asked in a hushed and conspiratorial manner. Again, giving nary a second to respond, she gleefully answered this question as well. "Fully Rely On God! I wear a frog every day to remind me of just that." I smiled and was deeply thankful that it was her turn to pay for the items in her shopping basket. Since that moment I have looked at frogs in a somewhat different light. An enlightened sort of light. So to type. A couple of years ago I bought a tiny frog charm adorned with sparkly green crystals. I wore it for several months on my belly ring and enjoyed knowing that it was there. It was a personal reminder of a promise I had made to myself. That even if I really wanted to find a prince, I was done kissing frogs. Kind of a preliminary warning that I was soon going to be a single woman and I would have to be on the lookout for toads. Which brings me to Valentine's Day 2007. My friend Colleen presented me with a small wrapped and beribboned package. She said she couldn't help herself, she just had to get it for me. I opened the package and inside was a frog! No ordinary frog, it seems. The instructions say to kiss the little guy, drop him into water, and grow your own prince! This tiny frog is wearing a crown and holding a scepter, indicating that perhaps he could be of royal lineage. He's actually kind of cute and I'll keep him around for when I'm really desperate. Which may be only hours away. I'll probably continue to make eye contact with oddballs. I don't seem to be able to help myself. They must sense that I am a writer, hence their compulsion to unwittingly provide me with fodder.