Winter 2015
Woody visits the semi open air toilet block in the Barn Hill,WA camp ground and thinks that one of the kids has stuck a plastic frog on the wall. Next morning there are four and he’s starting to think that someone has far too much time on their hands, until one starts to move and then another and another.


We once lived it a rustic cabin in Northern California. Frogs loved the moist dank atmosphere of the bathroom. In the morning there would be four or five of them in the bowl of the toilet and a dozen or more in the shower. The back door was directly opposite the door of the bathroom. Every morning and a time or two during the day I would open the back door and start flinging frogs.
I got so if there was a frog or two in the toilet I would ignore them and use it anyway. Faye was not so accepting. She was afraid one would jump on her. So I had to make sure the toilet was clear of frogs every time she needed to use the bathroom. I insisted, all the while, that it wasn’t likely since it had never happened to me.
Wouldn’t you know, the one time she took that chance a frog jumped up and suctioned itself to her butt. Now, some forty years later, I’m still trying to regain her trust.
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I have probably told this story here before…
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“Suctioned itself to her butt” Well that made me laugh. Whenever we’re up north in the tropics we tend to just ignore them like you. Thanks to your information, never again! and by the way I might just repeat your story and a few campfires…”there’s this bloke I know in the US who’s wife…”
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I told Faye she is on her way to being a campfire legend.
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We had a good laugh about that again this morning when I let Faye read what I had written. She said, “You’re right!” about me still regaining her trust. Every now and then when I try to reassure her not to worry about something she will say, “You weren’t right about the frogs!”
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It always worries me when they are down the loos and when you have to flush… They seem to hang on though…
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They’re little thrill seekers.
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Sure are…
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