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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067</id><updated>2009-11-09T15:04:10.016-05:00</updated><title type="text">Frog And Toad Are Still Friends</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>853</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>FrogAndToadAreStillFriends</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-7793436549625387576</id><published>2009-11-09T07:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T09:48:59.356-05:00</updated><title type="text">Christmas Magazine List Reviews!</title><content type="html">Just because I'm tired of seeing that sad, worried post on the top of my page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the second gift list to come to my attention - no, NOT Ontario &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cattlemen's&lt;/span&gt; possible list, sadly, but a sensible list from that sensible publication, &lt;a href="http://www.parents.com/family-circle-magazine/"&gt;Family Circle &lt;/a&gt;(the November 29&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; issue, in fact).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if you've ever read Family Circle, but it's generally sold at supermarket check-outs and is a pleasant, low-priced magazine aimed at women in their mid-30s to 50s, I would say. It's seen as being a bit low-brow, possibly, but I think that's a bit unfair - it has good recipes and informative articles, and is nice to read when you're waiting in your doctor's office with your four year old this afternoon, possibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here is there gift suggestion list, probably the first of many from them - this article was called "Double Gifting" and featured gifts sold in support of charities. This can be a dubious landmine of icky presents, shoddily made things that one must pretend to like in the name of social justice - but I think they actually did a nice job of finding beautiful little things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;a href="http://shop.thehungersite.com/store/site.do?siteId=220"&gt;Turkish Ceramic Keepsake Bowl&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't find it on the site, but it's a lovely little thing and costs $6.95. Proceeds support the Hunger Site's work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: A+. It's pretty&lt;em&gt; and&lt;/em&gt; affordable &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; it's a good cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;a href="http://bellcarter.portal.admailwest.com/Default.aspx?PageID=1231&amp;amp;Login=Guest&amp;amp;ProfileID=1&amp;amp;Error="&gt;A hand-woven olive-and-eucalyptus-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Branch&lt;/span&gt; wreath with proceeds going towards Meals on Wheels.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: B. Wreaths are one of those things that I feel like I should like more than I do. Still - they sound nice enough and who doesn't like Meals on Wheels?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)&lt;a href="http://mosnose.com/mosmellsholidays.html"&gt; Mo Smells The Holidays &lt;/a&gt;- a scratch and sniff book about a dog, with proceeds going towards the &lt;a href="http://www.bestfriends.org/"&gt;Best Friends Animal Society.&lt;/a&gt; $17.95.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: B+. It sounds like a nice book and it's a pleasant cause and there are lots and lots of dog lovers in this world who are not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;a href="http://www.starbucksstore.com/products/shprodde.asp?SKU=230865"&gt;Starbucks (Red) Travel Mug&lt;/a&gt;. It costs $15.95 and they give a dollar to the Global Fund, which helps fight HIV/AIDS, TB and malaria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: High enough, I guess. It's one of those things that's good for a large number of people on your list - co-workers, mainly - where you want to give them a reasonably impersonal but pleasant gift that also doesn't cost a zillion bucks. There you go. Give them a red travel mug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;a href="http://www.greenraising.com/Blow-Out-Wallet-P185C11.aspx"&gt;A wallet made from recycled mountain bike inner tubes&lt;/a&gt;, with 20-40% of the $26 price going towards the charity of your choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: C. Because it's a bike tube wallet. But there are actually TONS of charities on the page and MANY better gift options, so it's worth poking around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;a href="http://www.greenraising.com/Beads-of-Strength-Necklace-P190C11.aspx"&gt;One of those challenging chunky beaded necklaces &lt;/a&gt;that I never see people wearing in real life. It's made by the San Jorge Cooperative, which is a fair trade women's group and now I feel guilty for implying that the necklace is kind of ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: It's only $35, so if someone you know likes "challenging" necklaces, it's the perfect match!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;a href="http://www.lush.ca/shop/charity-pot/map"&gt;Lush Cosmetics' Charity Pot Hand and Body Lotion&lt;/a&gt;. 100% of the proceeds go towards a variety of Lush-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;esque&lt;/span&gt; charities. It costs $20.95.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: I do not like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lush's&lt;/span&gt; products, although this is a personal thing - I find them too highly scented, for one, and for another, I find them overpriced. Maybe you love them. And maybe you love all of the charities they support - and most of them (protecting a threatened local forest! service animals! camps for kids with cancer!) are things that most people would agree with. Others, however, are more contentious, so be careful before you purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;a href="http://shop.stjude.org/GiftCatalog/shop.do?cID=13029&amp;amp;pID=16788"&gt;Marshmallow Fudge Snowman Tube Hot Chocolate &lt;/a&gt;- 100% of the proceeds goes towards St. Jude Children's Research Hospital's research in pediatric cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: A+! It's ADORABLE! It's $6 or 2 for $10 and I can think of TONS of people on my list where this would be exactly the right size and sort of gift. It's also sadly out of stock. Dang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9)&lt;a href="http://ipopperz.myshopify.com/products/young-survival-coalition-ear-bud"&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;iPopperz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;earbuds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Headphones with 14% of the proceeds &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;benefiting&lt;/span&gt; Save The Music. $14.95.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade&lt;/strong&gt;: Mm, B+? They're cute and it's a nice cause. I couldn't find the ones listed, but I did find a set supporting young breast cancer survivors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) &lt;a href="http://www.sambazon.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Acai&lt;/span&gt; Bead Bracelet&lt;/a&gt;. 100% of the $10 price goes towards preserving the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;rainforest&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grade:&lt;/strong&gt; B+. A good cause and it's a pretty little thing. I can't find it on the website, though. Maybe you can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There. Wasn't that a nice list? Everything was affordable and nothing was STUPID, which is always good and there were a few things on it that I could actually imagine giving to people. So far, Family Circle magazine is winning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-7793436549625387576?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/IGMorBBEDho" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/7793436549625387576/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=7793436549625387576" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/7793436549625387576" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/7793436549625387576" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/IGMorBBEDho/christmas-magazine-list-reviews.html" title="Christmas Magazine List Reviews!" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-magazine-list-reviews.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-9068380449392368850</id><published>2009-11-06T10:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T10:30:03.410-05:00</updated><title type="text">To Answer Some Of Your Questions</title><content type="html">1) &lt;em&gt;How is The Baby feeling today after &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/532/things-id-never-even-heard-of/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;her horrible experience on Wednesday&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completely back to normal. She's running around, cutting up every piece of paper she can find and screaming at Dora. "JUST GO TO THE VOLCANO ALREADY, DORA! STOP TALKING TO THE CAMERA!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;em&gt;What do we do if - God forbid - it happens again?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lay her down flat and on her side RIGHT AWAY and she should start regaining consciousness and turning a normal colour immediately. We also call 911. I plan on also doing a lot of hysterical sobbing. The situation seems to warrant it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;em&gt;Is this something that happened because of a pre-existing condition?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, although I'm not totally sure. She has some appointments coming up. I googled around a little bit and then stopped because No Good Comes Of That.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;em&gt;What was she saying to the nurse?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the nurse was asking her how she was feeling and she was answering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;5) What did I do while all of this was happening?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally losing my head, of course. My mother told me that I was yelling "DO SOMETHING!" which seems pretty reasonable. A nurse actually came over to get me calmed down. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT. They made me drink a juice in the ambulance, because I think I looked like I was going to pass out. As one would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;em&gt;Are we sure it wasn't the vaccine?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is possible to have an allergic reaction to vaccinations, of COURSE, but this isn't what happened. It was more like the pain from the shot + the pain from the fall + watching her sister freak out triggered a shut-down switch in her body. Apparently this is a pretty common condition - although her reaction was extreme, let me be clear - and it can be triggered by any number of things, as reading the comments to my post will show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;em&gt;How am I doing?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am all right NOW. I spent most of yesterday crying but today I feel a lot more like myself. The Baby has had enough of being fussed over - "STOP hugging me and crying every time I go by!" she said to me. "Hug (the Boy) and cry for a change! GEEEZ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now - I HOPE - we will resume our regular blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-9068380449392368850?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/hE-_WSnw1l8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/9068380449392368850/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=9068380449392368850" title="32 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/9068380449392368850" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/9068380449392368850" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/hE-_WSnw1l8/to-answer-some-of-your-questions.html" title="To Answer Some Of Your Questions" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">32</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-answer-some-of-your-questions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-8460738123852743291</id><published>2009-11-05T10:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T10:26:08.413-05:00</updated><title type="text">My poor baby.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/532/things-id-never-even-heard-of/#comments"&gt;She is okay today, but my baby had a really rough day yesterday. Hey, so did I. I wrote about it at length at 5 Minutes for Parenting. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-8460738123852743291?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/oQRW-m25YrU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/8460738123852743291/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=8460738123852743291" title="9 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8460738123852743291" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8460738123852743291" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/oQRW-m25YrU/my-poor-baby.html" title="My poor baby." /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-poor-baby.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-2878473272081429587</id><published>2009-11-04T12:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T13:04:14.201-05:00</updated><title type="text">November</title><content type="html">We had some nasty wet flurries a few minutes ago - the kids and I dashed outside because that first snowfall is pretty magical, even if snow itself is a chilly misery, but we rapidly dashed back inside because we were instantly soaked. Now I am cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the standards of northern Ontario, my house is very old - it was built in 1900 or thereabouts, and it looks a bit like a cartoon of a haunted house, so I have been asked by a surprising number of people if it is haunted. Um, no? Scratch your average, reasonably rational looking person and we're all Medieval peasants underneath, with ghosts and witches and dank dark thoughts. Me too, of course - in fact, I am leading that parade, complete with pitchfork and lit torch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is to say that although my house is not haunted, I know LOTS of ghost stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother, in her long and eventful life, was living outside of Chicago with her second husband and he was behind the house chopping firewood, I think, and she was in the kitchen doing dishes and she heard a familiar whistling and a familiar walk and someone rapped on her screen door with a cane and there was her father. Who had died the winter before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tootie&lt;/span&gt;!" he said. "Get back home. Your mother needs you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her second husband - my grandfather - came walking around the house with a strange look on his face. "I just heard your father," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my grandmother flew back to northern Ontario, or took the train or drove - I don't know how she got back and there's no one I can ask - but she got home and her mother was a weeping nervous wreck because the local boys were howling beneath her windows at night, yelling her husband's name and phoning her at all hours and so my grandmother - who was a formidable woman - put a stop to it, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a child and my grandmother would tell me this story, I would think with shivery pleasure of being the Interesting Person who was visited by the ghost. And then I got older and learned a bit more about loss and yearning and the idea of standing at my sink on a warm summer evening and hearing someone familiar and who could never come back walking up my front path... well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I have been married for years and years and I think about the miserable bereaved widow, old and alone and frightened, and I think about the gravestone a few miles from where I am right now. I think about the heavy feet walking on a sidewalk outside of Chicago, the cane sharply hitting the door, the voice telling my grandmother - now gone, herself, now never to come back - to go home, to help her mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that makes me think of my own husband, quiet, hard-working, bemused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love me that much,&lt;/em&gt; I think&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never leave me&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-2878473272081429587?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/V4IFM8MH2og" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/2878473272081429587/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=2878473272081429587" title="30 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/2878473272081429587" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/2878473272081429587" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/V4IFM8MH2og/november.html" title="November" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">30</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/11/november.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-1240659217531123080</id><published>2009-11-02T06:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T08:50:07.154-05:00</updated><title type="text">It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year (Almost)</title><content type="html">No, it's NOT Oprah-list time. Can't you barely wait? &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;can barely wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who've only been reading me for a short while: every year, for the past three years I've reviewed - rather sarcastically - ALL of Oprah's magazine holiday gift list. Sharkskin bangles! 200 packs of lipsticks! Pet-watching cameras so you can spy on your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lil&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snuggums&lt;/span&gt; while you're supposed to be working! It's my favorite, favorite couple of posts of the year and I have several more weeks of waiting before the December issue of O comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other magazines, it occurs to me, DO have gift guides. Even my dad's Ontario Cattlemen magazine probably has a gift guide. (does it? I will have to ask him to check for me.) And it occurs to me that I could while away the time waiting for Oprah's list by writing about other magazines gift lists - probably they won't feature as many $75 brownies, New Age-y &lt;em&gt;Everything You Do Is Fine&lt;/em&gt; self help books, or luridly coloured men's cashmere socks but not everything in life can be beer and skittles and other lists also have their subtly hilarious charms. And hey, it might even be helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very first gift list to come to my attention: &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/"&gt;The Family Fun Toy Of The Year Awards&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;important and totally unsolicited aside: Family Fun magazine is my favorite magazine ever. I have subscribed to it for 10 and a half years. We do crafts and recipes from every issue. It is GOLD&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)&lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-1-792617/"&gt; Invasion of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bristlebots&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;- Klutz Press&lt;br /&gt;I find Klutz books irresistible - so incredibly action-packed! so clever! - that I always grab one or two for every gift-giving holiday. Seriously, you should see how many of them we have. I find this book a little bit dubious, though - robot toothbrush heads? Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B+. My middle kid thinks this looks like a lot of fun so maybe I'm just too old and too non-mad-scientist-y to &lt;em&gt;get&lt;/em&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-2-792619/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Playmobil&lt;/span&gt; Ancient Egyptian Pyramid&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL three of my kids screamed "BUY US THAT!" when they saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A-. It looks FANTASTIC but it's also on the pricey side, sadly. If you have a big chunk of money and a houseful of little history dorks, this would be PERFECT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-3-792623/"&gt;Recycling Truck&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, it's a recycling truck and it's made from recycled plastic and you can pretend to sort recycling in it! &lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Zzzzz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, a lot of little boys love big clunky trucks but this one is sort of ugly and too-virtuous looking. But maybe you have a kid on your list who is obsessed with the recycling truck. It might happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-4-792627/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;RipRider&lt;/span&gt; 360&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A three-wheeled low-riding bike thing that spins kids around in wild, super-fast circles.&lt;br /&gt;Plus: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;WHEEEEEEEE&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;Minus: I live in a place where there is guaranteed to be SNOW for months and months after Christmas. Where's the kid supposed to play with this thing? Also, it's not cheap. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;whoo&lt;/span&gt;, it looks like fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B. Higher if you live someplace where the kid can USE it on Christmas morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-5-792628/"&gt;LEGO Feeding Zoo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This looks like a LOT of fun. But it also costs $50, which puts it out of the running for a lot of families I know and because it's from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Duplo&lt;/span&gt; line, most kids will only play with it for a year or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B because it's expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-6-792632/"&gt;Hot Wheels Color Shifters&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little cars that change colour when they're dipped in cold water. Hey, that's fun! And they're also $3 for 2 - so I know a certain young man who'll be getting these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A+.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-7-792642/"&gt;Build It Bigger&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a building set. I dismissed it when I saw the picture in the magazine - it looked clunky and kind of goofy - but when I read the text, I was surprised to read that it's a HUGE building set. Kids can build things nearly as big as themselves, apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing, though - be VERY careful before buying kids who are not your own BIG toys. Check with their parents and make sure that they have SPACE for them, because big toys take up space that most households don't have. Still, it's a neat idea even if it's kind of ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B for Be Careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-8-792651/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;BFC&lt;/span&gt; Ink Large Dolls&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty, American Girl-sized dolls for half the money.  They're all right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-9-792658/"&gt;Sandwich Stacking Game&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fairly insane-sounding game that involves &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;velcro&lt;/span&gt; gloves and sandwich ingredients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - This sounds like a black eye waiting to happen. C for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--number-10-792659/"&gt;Pool Sharks&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little pool table with shark-shaped... pool cue gun things.&lt;br /&gt;We watched Pinocchio last night, and I was amused by how one of the wicked things on Pleasure Island was a POOL HALL. It used to be really disreputable and now wholesome family magazines recommend wee child-sized versions.&lt;br /&gt;It looks fun enough, but I can say with some assurance that my kids would lose every single piece of this within minutes of opening it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C for me tripping on one of the wee pool balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--repair-shop-792663/"&gt;Handy Manny's Repair Shop&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a tool bench with Handy Manny's head and torso on it, which is unfortunate, because that shortens the life expectancy of it by quite a bit. Kids outgrow preschool-show toys REALLY fast, rejecting them quickly once they turn five or six and start wanting to seem more like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;gradeschool&lt;/span&gt; child. Pretend pieces like this are a lot of fun, but it's best to buy them without any potentially-babyish characters on them and then kids will cheerfully keep using them as pretend props for years to come. Also - whoa, it's $100.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - D. A tool bench is a fun toy for the right kid, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--bunny-treehouse-792664/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Playmobil&lt;/span&gt; Bunny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Treehouse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This looks fantastic but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ARGH&lt;/span&gt;! It's been discontinued!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--color-me-a-song-792665/"&gt;Crayola Color Me A Song&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a... "drawing and music creation station." Which means that as your child colours, the plastic board will play music to match their pace. Oh, &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; doesn't sound irritating at ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - Are you a four year old who likes to colour? Probably an A. Are you a parent with functioning ears? &lt;strong&gt;D-.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--scribble-and-write-793122/"&gt;Leapfrog Scribble and Write&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Toy That Teaches Penmanship". Oh boy! Penmanship! A good gift if you are, for example, a stern, humourless grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C+. Penmanship is an important skill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--curious-george-discovery-beach-game-793129/"&gt;Curious George Discovery Beach Game&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks fun AND it's affordable AND it doesn't look like the game itself would take very long to play. A winner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--play-doh-burger-builder-793124/"&gt;Play-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Doh&lt;/span&gt; Burger Builder&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids LOVE those Play-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Doh&lt;/span&gt; sets. They ADORE them. They BREAK them quickly. But they're fun and inexpensive so heck, I'm giving this an A+.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--easy-score-hockey-793145/"&gt;Little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Tikes&lt;/span&gt; Easy Score Hockey, Soccer and Lacrosse Set&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good for the mini-jock. But the same caveats apply as 4) and 7) - do you live someplace where the kids can play with this outside when they get it OR do they have a large enough indoor playing area AND storage for this jumbo toy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C, higher if you can say yes to both questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18)&lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--dinosaurs-793153/"&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;K'Nex&lt;/span&gt; Dinosaurs 20+ Model Building Set&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inexpensive AND &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;K'Nex&lt;/span&gt; is fun if you're a kid who likes building sets. I suspect my fella will be getting this for Christmas but DO NOT TELL HIM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A if you're building-set-loving-seven-year-old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--so-small-pets-793157/"&gt;So Small Pets Theme Sets and Play Sets&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of my daughters - the four year old AND the ten year old - went "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;AWWWWWW&lt;/span&gt;!" when they saw this, and at $15-20, it's pretty reasonable. This sort of toy is best for a careful, slightly older child who likes keeping track of lots of small pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--eyeclops-mini-projector-793221/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;EyeClops&lt;/span&gt; Mini Projector&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that sounds fun - it plugs into a DVD or MP3 player and projects movie images onto a blank wall.  It's $100 and I have no idea how sturdy it is -does anyone know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--strawberry-shortcake-cafe-793249/"&gt;Strawberry Shortcake's Berry Cafe&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a big strawberry! And Strawberry Shortcake operates a bakery in it! My four year old wants this SO MUCH! I, however, am dubious - I think it looks breakable and also like all of the millions of wee pieces would be scattered within seconds of opening. But it DOES look sort of cute, so I'm ambivalent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B+, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--harumika-designer-dress-form-set-793286/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Harumika&lt;/span&gt; Designer Dress Form Set&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 little dressmaker dummies that you can design dresses on. I don't think this looks like any fun at ALL but it might be a great gift for the right kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--winds-of-fortune-793186/"&gt;Winds of Fortune Board Game&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, that's neat - a little water-filled game board with a sailboat, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Tiki&lt;/span&gt; statues, bags of gems - it sounds like a great game for a game-loving family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A+ if the family in question loves games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--dodgetag-793302/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;DodgeTag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Dodgeball&lt;/span&gt; and tag, eh? There are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;velcro&lt;/span&gt;-covered bibs and soft balls and my kids would HURT each other playing this. But maybe your children are more civilized. Your call. (and again - this would require a large outdoor space OR a big indoor playroom. Be warned.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C+.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--tyco-stunt-vehicle-793319/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Tyco&lt;/span&gt; R/C Stunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Pscyho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Meh&lt;/span&gt;. An all-terrain remote control ugly car thingy. It's $50 and my kid always gets tired of remote controlled cars REALLY quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--aerial-defense-unit-793323/"&gt;Lego Aerial Defense Unit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My seven year old son thinks this is the coolest thing he has ever seen. He is what you would call "Lego's target market."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B- because it's $80. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;, Lego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--mythbusters-793325/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;MythBusters&lt;/span&gt; Weird World Of Water&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids LOVE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;MythBusters&lt;/span&gt;. My kids LOVE science kits. This, however, looks like a fairly run-of-the-mill bottle rocket kit. It says that it comes with a few more experiments, but it still seems pretty standard. It's not expensive, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--star-wars-flight-game-793326/"&gt;TV Games Motion: Star Wars Flight Game&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of those plug-in-to-the-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; games. It's $30, so it's not bad price-wise, but I still wouldn't be terribly delighted if someone gave my kid this. My husband thinks it looks like fun, so we are a house divided on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - In the interests of Marital Harmony, I am giving it a B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29) &lt;a href="http://familyfun.go.com/playtime/gift-guide/toy-of-the-year-2009/toy-of-the-year-awards-2009--connect-4x4-793330/"&gt;Connect 4x4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Connect 4, that game where you drop little discs in rows. But now it's got a double-sided grid and more players and did I mention that I hate Connect 4 in the first place? Do NOT buy me this. Shudder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade - your call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30) &lt;a href="http://www.klutz.com/crafts/kids/Fuzzimal-Puppies"&gt;Klutz &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Fuzzimal&lt;/span&gt; Puppies&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A book/kit that makes five fuzzy, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;doofy&lt;/span&gt; looking toy dogs and some accessories - perfectly aimed at the early tween girls.&lt;br /&gt;Grade - A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't as unintentionally hilarious as the Oprah list - for the most part, it was a sensible list of actually fun-sounding toys. Sigh. Maybe the next magazine will be more ridiculous. Maybe. Ontario Cattlemen Magazine, you're my only hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-1240659217531123080?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/yrrngMkbLqA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/1240659217531123080/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=1240659217531123080" title="39 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1240659217531123080" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1240659217531123080" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/yrrngMkbLqA/its-most-wonderful-time-of-year-almost.html" title="It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year (Almost)" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">39</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-most-wonderful-time-of-year-almost.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-3165210444484791875</id><published>2009-10-31T10:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T12:35:49.118-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween, Finally</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;It Was A Dark and Scary Afternoon&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog thinks he is a WWI flying ace, I told my mother. She sighed and stared out the kitchen window and told me to go play outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But it's dark out today," I said. "And there's that weird buzzing noise."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just go outside, please," she said and so I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate playing outside. The other kids avoid me, run from me laughing and shouting insults. I stand alone, the shadow of my head making a perfect circle on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm having a party," catcalls Violet. "We are having snacks and pop and fun party games and you are not invited." All of the other girls - even my sister, my own golden haired sister - titter behind her, their eyes narrowed with malice. The dark skies crackled and the sun was hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Last one to the treehouse has to kiss &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;!" calls one of the girls and they all turn and run, shrieking, their feet throwing up gravel. My dog and a small yellow bird watch me silently as I walk by and as I pass I swear they laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a boy on our street I sometimes spend time with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He used to be the Sunday School champion, able to memorize each week's verse, coming home each week with gold stars and roles in the church play. But lately he's been spending all his time alone, muttering to himself and dragging his filthy blanket behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"See that star?" he says, pointing upwards. There, in the mid-afternoon sky, is a falling star.&lt;br /&gt;"The name of that star is Wormwood," he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bird flies overhead. "Woe, woe," it cries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girls cackle and laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And the four angels who had been kept ready for this very hour and day and month and year&lt;br /&gt;were released to kill a third of mankind. The number of the mounted troops was two hundred million. I heard their number," he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was quiet. Then a loud roaring sound filled the air and a great darkness began to descend. The little girls stopped throwing rocks at a cat and looked up, their eyes big. My dog moved his flying goggles off his eyes and clutched the yellow bird to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"During those days men will seek death, but will not find it; they will long to die, but death will elude them," cried out the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the flying star come crashing down in the nearby woods. Something huge stood up, throwing a giant shadow that blocked out the sun. The other boy covered his head with his blanket, shaking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-3165210444484791875?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/806ZnhXgtOU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/3165210444484791875/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=3165210444484791875" title="25 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3165210444484791875" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3165210444484791875" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/806ZnhXgtOU/halloween-finally.html" title="Halloween, Finally" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">25</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-finally.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-5148287323304669012</id><published>2009-10-30T09:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T09:33:00.014-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #12</title><content type="html">True story - we went to the doctor yesterday and were told that we are effectively &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;quarantined&lt;/span&gt; until the fever is out of our house for 24 hours. Guess who woke up with a fever? Guess what day's tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trick or treat, us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-5148287323304669012?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/gVOa6L4NcyU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/5148287323304669012/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=5148287323304669012" title="23 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5148287323304669012" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5148287323304669012" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/gVOa6L4NcyU/halloween-12.html" title="Halloween #12" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">23</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-12.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-1626341419429374774</id><published>2009-10-27T08:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T09:54:11.909-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #11</title><content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;Are You There, God? It's Me, Maggot.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One morning, after a night of anxious dreams, Sheila Tubman awoke to find herself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;transformed&lt;/span&gt; into a monstrous bug. She lay on her squishy bug back and wiggled her tail around - her arms and legs having vanished painlessly during her sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What has happened to me?" she wondered. She looked around her room that she shared with her sister Libby. Libby was squeezing pimples while frowning at herself in the bedroom mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Libby! A little help here!" Sheila called out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Libby grimaced at her. "You are SO immature!" she said and stomped out of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila sighed and attempted to roll off of her bed. Finally, she landed with a heavy thump on the carpet and lay panting on the floor for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sheila!" her mother's voice called. "It's ten past seven! Hurry up and come out for breakfast!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Coming, mom!" yelled Sheila. She was startled by her voice, which was her regular voice, interspersed with a series of loud crackling sounds. Well, that's weird, she thought. She discovered that she could move around quite quickly by squirming, so she squirmed down the apartment hallway and into the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that reminds me," Sheila's mother said. "You need to clean that room of yours up TONIGHT."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila attempted to heave herself up onto her chair. "Um, mom?" she said. "Can I eat my breakfast down here this morning?" Her mother sighed and placed her cereal bowl on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sheila," said Libby. "Stop making that disgusting crackling sound. FATHER! Make her stop!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's dad looked down at her.&lt;br /&gt;"Sheila," he said, sternly. "Stop showing off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila was hurt. And then she was distracted by the full garbage can in the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey," she thought. "Yummy!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-1626341419429374774?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/IdwMrqcni50" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/1626341419429374774/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=1626341419429374774" title="19 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1626341419429374774" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1626341419429374774" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/IdwMrqcni50/halloween-11.html" title="Halloween #11" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">19</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-11.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-3059939882160433189</id><published>2009-10-26T08:58:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T09:19:17.149-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #10</title><content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;That Time Of Day Between The Afternoon And Full-Out Evening.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Darling," he said, the sunlight causing him to sparkle like a big shiny pair of gold lame leggings from Ardenes. He was as handsome as a Calvin Klein underpant billboard but totally hot and also in full colour and ALSO a vampire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As always, she was thrilled to see him. And she was also wearing a white eyelet sundress, black high-tops, some colourful rubber bracelets, knee-length argyle socks, fingerless motorcycle gloves and a denim jacket that she'd carefully bedazzled to say "My Boyfriend Is A Hot Vampire." All that bedazzling had made her fingers bleed, but that was cool - he liked blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Yeah&lt;/em&gt;," said some snarky inner voice, "&lt;em&gt;Way more than he likes making out&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;SHUT UP!"&lt;/em&gt; she had told her inner voice. "&lt;em&gt;Waiting is sexy. And cool&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Those people who say that attractive male vampires are a metaphor for sexually unavailable gay men don't know what they're talking about!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was walking towards her now, striding like some He-God, coming to claim her, a plain mortal. His black cape flapped in the wind. His purple skin was luminous in the sunlight. His unibrow was like some holy caterpillar of manliness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;One!" &lt;/em&gt;he cried. "&lt;em&gt;ONE sexy girlfriend! MWAH HA HA&lt;/em&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thunder crackled. They embraced. Chastely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lmF4BR2AvAM/SuWgxox7G8I/AAAAAAAAC4w/AtAjuAkCfxA/s1600-h/countvoncount.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396896503094254530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 303px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lmF4BR2AvAM/SuWgxox7G8I/AAAAAAAAC4w/AtAjuAkCfxA/s320/countvoncount.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-3059939882160433189?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/SYmKsBq-VEc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/3059939882160433189/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=3059939882160433189" title="30 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3059939882160433189" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3059939882160433189" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/SYmKsBq-VEc/halloween-10.html" title="Halloween #10" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lmF4BR2AvAM/SuWgxox7G8I/AAAAAAAAC4w/AtAjuAkCfxA/s72-c/countvoncount.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">30</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-10.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-431067691846764768</id><published>2009-10-22T22:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T22:02:41.626-04:00</updated><title type="text">New Post!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/521/footsteps/"&gt;My 5 Minutes Post is up&lt;/a&gt;. It's all about ghost stories. See you there, I hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-431067691846764768?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/UXqZucRt3dY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/431067691846764768/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=431067691846764768" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/431067691846764768" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/431067691846764768" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/UXqZucRt3dY/new-post.html" title="New Post!" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-post.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-3577937655324300673</id><published>2009-10-21T18:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T19:09:08.457-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #9</title><content type="html">He was a reasonably popular kid. He wore glasses and liked books but he was also on some sports teams and had a group of pleasant, reasonably well-behaved friends. He did his homework, rarely acted up in class and always wore the same yellow sweater. His teacher, Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt;, had him pegged as a fairly typical 8 year old boy from a small-town middle class family and spent his energy on the handful of kids in class with behavioural problems - the rabbit kid with the eating and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hygiene&lt;/span&gt; issues, the big kid with anger management problems, the rich girl who had been expelled from private school after private school until her despairing parents had finally placed her in the local public school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one autumn day after class, the boy was standing nervously at his desk.&lt;br /&gt;"Can I talk to you, Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt;?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the teacher said, not sure what he was about to hear. Was the boy having problems with math? Was that athletic, bullying girl sexually harassing him again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's my... it's my sister," said the boy. "I'm afraid of her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Afraid of your sister?" asked Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt;. "Isn't she only four?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah," said the boy. "It sounds silly. But I am. I am really scared, Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt;.  She had a pet bird named &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Spanky&lt;/span&gt;. And he died and my mom and dad said that pets die sometimes. But I saw her putting window cleaner in his feeder earlier, and no one believes me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She smashed Grandma &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Thora's&lt;/span&gt; old doll, Clarissa. She said it was an accident, but I saw her swinging it by the heels into the sidewalk. And when she saw me looking, she said that I was next!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And the worst thing - you know that girl who is missing, Nadine? I saw her and my sister &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;arguing&lt;/span&gt; earlier that day and my sister told me that Nadine was going to get it. Now no one can find her, and all my sister will say is that she was tired of her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm really scared!" the boy told the teacher, tears falling from his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't worry," the teacher said. "I'll go talk with your parents tonight and we'll see if we can get everything all straightened out." The boy sniffled and wiped his nose and nodded. Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt; watched out the window as he headed out by himself down the sidewalk, past the empty teacher's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;parking&lt;/span&gt; lot. Just a small boy in a yellow sweater, his shoulders hunched, walking home in the startling darkness of a heavy rainstorm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ratburn&lt;/span&gt; sighed. This probably would mean he would miss his online puppetry discussion group, but the boy had seemed really distressed. He started packing up the children's history projects - the rabbit's was covered in filthy fingerprints and had something foul smelling on the first page - when he suddenly became aware that he was not alone in the building. What had he just heard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nothing, he told himself sternly. Then the sound happened again, an unmistakable sound - a door locking. Then a child running down a hallway in heavy-soled shoes. He felt a brief thrill of fear, and then reminded himself that it was a school, that children frequently came back to pick up forgotten shoes, coats, homework -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The lights went out. Someplace, a small child giggled. He walked quickly to the door and realized that it was locked, that he could not open it. The fire alarm went off and the smell of smoke &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; hit him. He ran to the windows, knowing that they were painted shut, knowing that they were practically unbreakable, thanks to concerns about vandalism. As the smoke poured in and he desperately pounded - unseen - at the windows, he thought he saw a small girl running away through the rain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-3577937655324300673?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/0yEm3oUOVGE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/3577937655324300673/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=3577937655324300673" title="27 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3577937655324300673" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3577937655324300673" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/0yEm3oUOVGE/halloween-9.html" title="Halloween #9" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">27</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-9.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-7999339073267652249</id><published>2009-10-21T13:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T13:30:25.586-04:00</updated><title type="text">Today's Halloween Post IS Coming!</title><content type="html">Just a bit later. I'm running around a lot today.&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I wrote a review of &lt;a href="http://beckwillnowreviewstuff.blogspot.com/2009/10/her-fearful-book-review.html"&gt;Her Fearful Symmetry&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-7999339073267652249?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/fx5qe7TMUss" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/7999339073267652249/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=7999339073267652249" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/7999339073267652249" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/7999339073267652249" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/fx5qe7TMUss/todays-halloween-post-is-coming.html" title="Today's Halloween Post IS Coming!" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/todays-halloween-post-is-coming.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-8878797044979326338</id><published>2009-10-20T12:15:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T13:17:33.311-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #8</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;The Hundred Acre Woods Is Heaven&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(with deep and slightly heartfelt apologies to Ray Bradbury)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christopher Robin - Chris to his friends - got to his feet and felt the wincing sore spot on his head. He was standing in a wooded area, and felt almost at once a startling rush of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;deja&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;vu&lt;/span&gt;. Where was he? Why did this place feel so familiar? Where had his friends gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Peregrine! Jemima!" he called. But the sound merely echoed around him, and only a flying bird answered. "Phillipa?" he called again. There were no answers. &lt;em&gt;I must have fallen farther than I thought&lt;/em&gt;, he said to himself, regretting listening to Jemima's teasing requests to explore the old forest on her father's estate, regretted his fumbling bravado that had resulted in his falling down that seemingly endless hole and ending up... here. Wherever &lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt; was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tentatively&lt;/span&gt; started walking forward. "There will be a path on the other side of this tree," he thought and indeed, there was one. He followed the path and found himself blinking in the startlingly bright sunlight of an open clearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Christopher Robin!" a voice called. A handful of small animals were running towards him. They stood looking at him expectantly. He stood confused for a moment and then had a horrified rush of remembrance. &lt;em&gt;Sh*t&lt;/em&gt;, he thought. &lt;em&gt;They're my bloody stuffed animals&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years - for 15 years , he had avoided thinking about them as much as possible, feeling an overwhelming shame when he recalled his childhood obsession with them, the elaborate fantasy games that had overwhelmed so much of his terrifyingly lonely early childhood. And yet here they were again and his head was throbbing with pain and he couldn't remember how to get back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Christopher Robin!" said the small yellow bear again. "You came back!"&lt;br /&gt;What was his name? Chris thought desperately and then remembered - Pooh. The freaking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bear's&lt;/span&gt; name was Pooh. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I came back. You're all... um, looking good. How have you all been?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Whoo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!" said the bright orange tiger. "We've been waiting for you, buddy boy! We've kept everything just the same!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that's great," said Chris, looking around for a path that led out of the forest. "Say. Any of you guys know the way out of here?" There was, he remembered, a path out of the forest, but for the life of him he could not remember quite where it was. &lt;em&gt;If I could get in&lt;/em&gt;, he thought, &lt;em&gt;I could get out&lt;/em&gt;, and he thought of Phillipa and her surely growing anxiety as he did not return. He looked back at the stuffed animals gathered around him and was startled to see their hurt faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You don't want to be here, Christopher Robin?" asked the yellow bear. "You aren't happy to see us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no, no!" said Christopher &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;hurriedly&lt;/span&gt;. "I'm delighted. Yes. So very pleased." The animals looked slightly mollified, and the yellow bear stepped forward, his paw raised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me show you around, Christopher!" he said. "We have so much to talk about!" Christopher nodded and let himself be led off. &lt;em&gt;I can watch for the path out&lt;/em&gt;, he thought, with a feeling of rising panic. The bear chattered on, seemingly without restraint, although Christopher caught him - Pooh, what a name, he thought - watching him out of the corners of his eyes. If a stuffed animals eyes could have corners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's play Pooh Sticks!" said the bear, leading him to a small bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pooh &lt;em&gt;what&lt;/em&gt;?" said Chris, repulsed. The bear mutely picked up a stick and threw it over the bridge and looked pointedly back at him. "Oh. Um, okay," said Chris, and threw a stick over half-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not in the mood for Pooh Sticks?" said the small bear. "All right, follow me! We have a giant party planned for your homecoming!" He took off down the path at a surprisingly quick rate, and led Chris up a small hill and down around a corner - how big was this forest? where was he? - and sitting at a long table under a spreading tree were nearly a dozen stuffed animals - the tiger from earlier, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;kangaroo&lt;/span&gt; with a joey in her pocket, an owl, a small pink pig wearing a sweater, and others hopping around in their small chairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sit!" said one. Chris &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkwardly&lt;/span&gt; sat in the small child's chair. "Wear your hat!" commanded another. Chris snapped the elastic string of the party hat under his chin. "Eat!" "Pour the tea!" "Speech! SPEECH!" Their voices were a cacophony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!"&lt;/em&gt; screamed Chris, his panic nearly unbearable. The animals all looked at him silently, rising to their feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What was that, Christopher Robin?" said the yellow bear, his voice full of menace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How could I have ever thought they were small?&lt;/em&gt; thought the young man as the animals crowded around him, blocking out the sun, and his last, desperate thought: &lt;em&gt;Where DID the path out GO?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-8878797044979326338?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/bt72x2EZ-rE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/8878797044979326338/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=8878797044979326338" title="27 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8878797044979326338" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8878797044979326338" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/bt72x2EZ-rE/halloween-8.html" title="Halloween #8" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">27</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-8.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-5371213185812412986</id><published>2009-10-19T09:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T11:36:52.665-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #7</title><content type="html">She is the strongest girl in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At night, her names float in my head like wild songs: Comestibles. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Delicatessa&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Windowshade&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mackrelmint&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That house is empty, my mother says. Little girls are not allowed to live by themselves like that. Stop talking foolishness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her red hair stands out like fire. Her monkey chatters on her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are too old to have imaginary friends, my mother says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She rolls out cookies on the kitchen floor, has a treasure chest full of gold. Her father is a pirate king. She can lift her horse over her head, outrun a thousand policemen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid we are going to have to take you to the doctor, my mother says. The pastor visits and they have a hushed discussion behind a closed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;livingroom&lt;/span&gt; door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She scratches at the kitchen window and grins in, her eyes sparkling with green.&lt;br /&gt;I have two pistols, she says. One of them is for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-5371213185812412986?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/gMvNuWqOJ_o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/5371213185812412986/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=5371213185812412986" title="24 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5371213185812412986" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5371213185812412986" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/gMvNuWqOJ_o/halloween-7.html" title="Halloween #7" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">24</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-7.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-9104151531996889777</id><published>2009-10-17T12:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T13:53:02.754-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #6</title><content type="html">"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rooby&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roo&lt;/span&gt;!" brayed the arthritic Great Dane, painfully hobbling into the brightly painted van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good job!" said the bespectacled young woman, her brown page boy hanging in her face as she reached over to give the dog a biscuit. She offered one as well to the unkempt young man sitting beside the dog, but he shook his head and turned away to look out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We've got a really tricky mystery today, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Scoob&lt;/span&gt;," said the blond young man, driving the van. "There's been a..." His voice broke. The red-haired young woman in the seat beside him sobbed loudly and blew her nose into a designer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;handkerchief&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's been some really mysterious &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hauntings&lt;/span&gt; at your vet's office!" said the young woman with a forced cheerfulness in her voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ruh&lt;/span&gt;-oh!" said the dog. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Rosts&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!" said the young woman. "Ghosts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blond young man pulled the van into a parking space at the vet's office, but no one hurried to get out. The unkempt young man beside the dog still did not say anything, his shoulders shaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ghosts," the young woman said again and sighed, unbuckling her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;seatbelt&lt;/span&gt; and reaching across to the elderly Great Dane, who was staring out the window with a mixture of trepidation and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;excitement&lt;/span&gt;. The red haired girl blew her nose again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-9104151531996889777?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/f5iELDC5IDY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/9104151531996889777/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=9104151531996889777" title="33 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/9104151531996889777" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/9104151531996889777" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/f5iELDC5IDY/haunting-at-animal-clinic.html" title="Halloween #6" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">33</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/haunting-at-animal-clinic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-1585362812559233837</id><published>2009-10-16T12:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T13:58:13.933-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween 5#</title><content type="html">Once there had been a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He remembered her, a bit - her breath that smelled like communion grape juice and cigarettes, her harsh laugh and her sudden rages, the way he was frightened and small and hiding underneath his bed, in his tent, under the slide at the playground, hiding from her giant hitting hands and her loud voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruby made her go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't remember much of that night - nothing much more than Ruby giving him warm funny tasting milk at bedtime and then his sleepy awareness of raised yelling female voices and a sudden loud noise and then silence. Then he woke up the next morning to Ruby bright and extra cheerful and the kitchen extra clean and a new vegetable garden in the backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He likes working in the garden. He likes putting his hands in the dirt, likes watering the fat jolly vegetables. Ruby smiles and brings him lemonade and they have picnics for lunch and sometimes he sits on the swing even though the swing is getting smaller and smaller all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He keeps forgetting to ask Ruby about the shrinking swing. He forgets sometimes that Grandma went away a long time ago and finds himself standing in front of her house where strangers live now. He forgets that Mom went away, too, and hides under the piano bench, hides under the front steps, until Ruby lures him out with gummy worms and trips to the ice cream store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Ruby&lt;/em&gt;," says their neighbour Mrs. Huffington over the fence. "&lt;em&gt;You're doing a wonderful job looking after him, but your whole life is passing you by&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He remembers that sometimes, the way he remembers the surprising bits of red in the kitchen, the loud sound, his mother's sharp breath and giant hurting hands. But then it's time for a picnic and the sun is bright and it's time to work in the garden again, their special garden where the vegetables come up so big and ripe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-1585362812559233837?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/CtTZIynT70g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/1585362812559233837/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=1585362812559233837" title="41 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1585362812559233837" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1585362812559233837" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/CtTZIynT70g/halloween-5.html" title="Halloween 5#" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">41</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-5.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-293634670432286120</id><published>2009-10-15T12:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T12:10:39.059-04:00</updated><title type="text">In the Halloween spirit..</title><content type="html">... &lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/516/trick-or-treat/"&gt;my Five Minutes post&lt;/a&gt;. It's about costumes and changes and adolescence. Hope you like it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-293634670432286120?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/oFTu34cUI9Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/293634670432286120/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=293634670432286120" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/293634670432286120" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/293634670432286120" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/oFTu34cUI9Y/in-halloween-spirit.html" title="In the Halloween spirit.." /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-halloween-spirit.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-3729708494794332436</id><published>2009-10-13T13:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T13:28:30.293-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween 4#</title><content type="html">"Class, today we're going to learn about the food chain," said Mr. Owl. Franklin and his friends took out their science books.&lt;br /&gt;"Some animals are herbivores," said Mr. Owl. "They eat plants. Some animals are omnivores. They eat plants and other animals. And some animals are carnivores."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know!" said Snail, waving his appendage around. "Carnivores just eat other animals!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's right, Snail," said Mr. Owl. "Some common carnivores are wolves, coyotes and foxes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The recess bell rang. "Don't forget, kids!" called Mr. Owl. "We are having a math quiz after recess!" The kids dashed into the yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All except for Fox, who was sitting thoughtfully at his desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey," said Fox out loud. "I'm a fox." And he slowly looked out at the yard full of rabbits and turtles and beavers. "I'm a fox," he said again. And with that, he walked out into the school yard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-3729708494794332436?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/j8qk-OPmG0o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/3729708494794332436/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=3729708494794332436" title="31 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3729708494794332436" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3729708494794332436" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/j8qk-OPmG0o/halloween-4.html" title="Halloween 4#" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">31</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-4.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-1076569613679733223</id><published>2009-10-09T14:44:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T17:43:36.588-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween #3</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;The Trouble With Papa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a beautiful fall day in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bearville&lt;/span&gt;, but Sister wasn't out playing with the other kids. She had something on her mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama," said Sister, "Why does Papa always wear the same overalls? Why does he always eat in the shed? How come Doctor Bear has been here so much this week?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, now, Sister," said Mama. "There is nothing for you to worry about. Have an oatmeal chewy caramel cookie and go play with Brother."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh boy!" said Sister and happily ran to the park. Papa was thumping and yelling in the shed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother and his friends were throwing a baseball around and having a friendly argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think zombies are a curse from God!" said Freddy, throwing the ball to Too Tall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ha!" said Too Tall. "That's because you're stupid. Everyone knows that someone becomes a zombie when another zombie bites 'em."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think -" said Brother and stopped when he saw Sister coming. "Let's talk about something else now, boys!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They played ball until suppertime, and then Brother and Sister walked back home together. Papa was still thumping and yelling in the shed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Papa sure is busy right now!" said Sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brother looked sad. "Hey Sister!" he said. "Look at that neat cloud!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's funny, thought Sister. It was almost like Brother was changing the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doctor Bear was just getting into her car as the cubs got to their house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is everything all right, Doctor Bear?" asked Brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Everything is much the same, Brother," said Doctor Bear. "Remember what I said about helping Mama look after Sister."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't need Brother to look after me!" said Sister. "I am almost eight years old. I can look after myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course," said Doctor Bear, but she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;seemed&lt;/span&gt; distracted. "Goodbye, cubs. I'll be back tomorrow morning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama called them in for supper. "Cubs," she said while they were sitting at the table. "Tomorrow, Papa and I are going away on a long... vacation. You are going to go stay with Gram and Gramps! Won't that be fun?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sister thought it did sound like fun, but she wondered where Mama and Papa where going. She wondered what Papa was making in the shed that was keeping him in there all the time. She wondered why he was thumping and yelling so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, Sister had a great big idea. After everyone was in bed, she would sneak out of the house and go see what Papa was making in the shed! It would be such a good surprise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-1076569613679733223?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/TKogo-nqRao" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/1076569613679733223/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=1076569613679733223" title="23 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1076569613679733223" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/1076569613679733223" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/TKogo-nqRao/halloween-3.html" title="Halloween #3" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">23</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-3.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-5148218671548769648</id><published>2009-10-08T11:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T11:48:55.148-04:00</updated><title type="text">We Interrupt The Creepiness</title><content type="html">... to bring you &lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/511/thankful/"&gt;today's Five Minutes For Parenting post&lt;/a&gt;, which is about how thankful I am, JUST in time for Thanksgiving! See you there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-5148218671548769648?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/O-czf-tV9sg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/5148218671548769648/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=5148218671548769648" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5148218671548769648" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/5148218671548769648" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/O-czf-tV9sg/we-interrupt-creepiness.html" title="We Interrupt The Creepiness" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/we-interrupt-creepiness.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-2466176918079503176</id><published>2009-10-07T19:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T20:11:37.303-04:00</updated><title type="text">Halloween Story 2</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;Goodnight.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for &lt;a href="http://lovewell.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kelly&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always closed the bedroom door behind her gently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew right from the first night that the gentle door closing was not a good thing, that someone who did not mean harm would close it in the regular noisy sort of way. Or not close it all all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does not like this big green room, with the mice scratching in the walls at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does not like the nightly bowl of mush that he must eat while she watches him, her large dark eyes unreadable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hush," she says, if he tries to speak. "Hush." And like the door closing gently, the word is a warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why is the moon so bright?&lt;/em&gt; he thinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who is this old woman?&lt;br /&gt;Why are we dressed like rabbits?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hush," she says.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-2466176918079503176?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/T4ufEhtummo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/2466176918079503176/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=2466176918079503176" title="33 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/2466176918079503176" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/2466176918079503176" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/T4ufEhtummo/halloween-story-2.html" title="Halloween Story 2" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">33</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/halloween-story-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-6127538909843778518</id><published>2009-10-06T09:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T09:33:15.974-04:00</updated><title type="text">Because Halloween Is Coming</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;A series of very short stories based on children's television shows.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Big Red Dog&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say big dogs age faster, but this one, the biggest I've ever seen, has been around for years. His friends - the little poodle, the sweet-faced bulldog - died ages ago and now he wanders around the island by himself, growling at nothing, his giant feet shaking the ground as he walks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tourists stopped coming a few years back. We told the media that it was an accident, but you know how it is when people get something into their minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily came back from university after only a week. Everyone in the town thought it was for the best. Now she stays in her house most of the time. Sometimes at night I think I see her passing by my window, walking with her giant dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the light of the moon, you can't see that he is red.&lt;br /&gt;In the light of the moon, he looks like a giant black dog wandering the island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can hear her voice talking to him, but I can never hear the words that she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they walk to the graveyard, maybe. Someone in town swears she saw Emily standing by the graves of Charley, of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jetta&lt;/span&gt;, of that nice boy Emily dated in high school. Accidents, the town agreed. All accidents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tourists stopped coming anyhow. Now the stores are empty and all of the Big Red Dog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;souvenirs&lt;/span&gt; are covered in dust. This year's Big Red Dog Festival was attended only by the townspeople and a few reporters, Emily blinking in the bright sunlight as she rode on the giant dog's back, the floats from other years following behind, faded and old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily only walks around the town at night now, her giant dog beside her, shaking our houses as he walks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he stopped outside my house last night. In the light of the moon, he looked black.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-6127538909843778518?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/m_t5M72UBBk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/6127538909843778518/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=6127538909843778518" title="29 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/6127538909843778518" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/6127538909843778518" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/m_t5M72UBBk/because-halloween-is-coming.html" title="Because Halloween Is Coming" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">29</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/because-halloween-is-coming.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-4982203389871353788</id><published>2009-10-02T07:20:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T11:05:46.485-04:00</updated><title type="text">I Watch Them So You Don't Have To</title><content type="html">Tweenager shows, that is. They're pretty divisive, especially if you have younger kids and it's easy to see Hannah Montana's toothy smiling face as a big smug symbol of all of the Things Wrong With This Society And Coming For Your Kid. And some of the shows - well, MOST of the shows - are weak and poorly written and ham-acted and kind of nauseating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing, though: ten year olds, eleven year olds? They want to watch different shows than their younger brothers and sisters. They do. It was horrible to realize that my child had OUTGROWN Little Bear and Franklin and all the rest of the shows that I love unreservedly. And our options as parents are not that great: do we let them watch things like SpongeBob Squarepants - which I find INCREDIBLY offensive and disgusting - or to have them just start watching shows aimed at teenagers or adults?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had banned tweeny shows for AGES and then all at once, I realized that I was making parenting all about ME and MY tastes and that it really wasn't, and that in not letting our kid at least check the shows out, we were segregating her rather unfairly from the other girls in her class. So now we've found a handful of shows that the Girl likes and that don't make us curl up, whimpering. In order from my favorite to my absolute not favorite: WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;a href="http://www.icarly.ca/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;iCarly&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Our favorite! The household champion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This genuinely funny show is one of the few NOT churned out by Disney and the accompanying level of commercialism is much lower (a quick search on the Canadian toysRus site only showed a backpack). It's made by Nickolodeon and thus has a lot of gross-out type humour and skips Disney's sappy paper-thin "morality".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carly lives with her much older artist brother SpenCer in a wacky Seattle apartment - like Max and Ruby, their parents are absent - and makes a popular webshow each week along with her friends Freddy and Sam. Carly is a good kid, and her friend Freddy is the victim of his hilariously hovering, over-protective mother, and her friend Sam is possibly the most hilariously transgressive female teenager I've ever seen on tv. She carries pork chops in her pockets for future snacking needs! She is somewhat violent, bad-tempered, in CONSTANT trouble at school, mooches off her friends, is lazy and is a loyal, honest friend to Carly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every adult on the show - except for SpenCer and the school principal - is either demented or malevolent or insane or just sort of disgusting. The kids are sassy and disrespectful but are also good-hearted, loyal and don't mean any harm and their dumb hijinks ALWAYS gets them into trouble. ALWAYS. The show rarely goes for sappy, manipulative endings - like Carly's webshow, it just wants to make you laugh. (also? SpenCer is an attractive fellow.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://nowheymama.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nowheymama:&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;My biggest iCarly parental point so far: "Everyone on this show says, 'Oh my god,' but that is not something we say, IS IT?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marmitebreath.blogspot.com/"&gt;Marmite Breath&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;I've been feeling really guilty for months since I have a raging crush on Spencer.&lt;/em&gt; (don't feel guilty! All the ladies love Spencer!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://barefootsblogspace.blogspot.com/"&gt;Barefoot Mommy&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;I'm not a huge fan of icarly because of the "screaming girl syndrome." That's really the only complaint I have though. As soon as it comes on my daughter is screaming, "AAAAAHHHHIIIIIEEEEE!" Other than that I have to agree that Spencer is not only cute, but hilarious and we do watch that show here.&lt;/em&gt;  (see? All the ladies love Spencer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://threeandholding.blogspot.com/"&gt;Janet&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;We love iCarly. Spenser is my pretend boyfriend so don't even TRY to pretend that he's yours. Just don't.&lt;/em&gt; (Janet, Spencer said to tell you that HE ONLY LOVES ME.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;strong&gt;The Wizards Of Waverly Place&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a Disney show, but is for all that clever and charming and sometimes even funny. Three siblings help out at their parents' New York City sub shop, squabble with each other and their parents and use their magical powers to generally get into trouble. It's okay. I do not LOVE it, there are no attractive adult men on the show, but it's all right, and the magical element of the show is appropriately magical and amusing. The movie that accompanied the series was surprisingly good. (There are no attractive men in this show. Not one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LoriD: &lt;em&gt;I love The Wizards of Waverly Place. The main character is hilarious (and beautiful) - watch for her to be a major talent.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;strong&gt;Hannah Montana&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a much more innocent show than you might think but it's still not any good. The acting is hammy, the plots are dumb, it's rarely funny at all, all of the young male actors are doofy-looking (WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?), Miley spends much of the show chasing boys around and yet I get the appeal - if I was 9, this would be the BEST SHOW EVER. Boy-chasing regular girl by day, ROCK STAR BY NIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;As an adult though? IT IS JUST AWFUL.&lt;br /&gt;(Billy Ray Cyrus, however, is awfully good looking, and his dad character is appealing, devoted and kind-hearted.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://barefootsblogspace.blogspot.com/"&gt;Barefoot Mommy:&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;I can't stand Hannah Montanna because she has a lisp. Maybe that's mean... but I don't understand how she became a famous performer... with a lisp.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;strong&gt;True Jackson VIP&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know any kid who watches this. It looks fairly average, from the brief clips I've seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) &lt;strong&gt;Sonny With A Chance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We haven't watched this one, either. It might be okay, but it is from Disney, so I'm assuming it's Hannah Part 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://atrailerparkmom.com/"&gt;A Trailer Park Mom&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;Sonny With A Chance is nothing like Hannah Montana. It's corny, but funny. At least my girls think it is. And I'll admit that I laughed a time or two&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://redclaydiaries.com/"&gt;Steph at RedClayDiaries&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;You could try Sonny with a Chance. It is surprisingly un-Disney. Maybe because they decided to branch out and hire ACTORS.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) &lt;strong&gt;Life With Derek&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I forgot this one! We've never watched it, but I know kids who like it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://notthemoty.blogspot.com/"&gt;LoriD:&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;We also enjoy Life With Derek (a Canadian show). It's a little corny, but mostly full of family values and harmless hijinx&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) &lt;strong&gt;Drake And Josh&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(another one I forgot. Apparently, we do not watch as much tv as I thought.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://katdish.blogspot.com/"&gt;katdish&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;You really should check out some old episodes of Drake and Josh. The actress that plays Carly was their little sister, and Spencer was a character named "Crazy Steve".I heart that show...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) &lt;strong&gt;Zoey 101&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Another one I forgot! This one started Britney Spear's little sister who - whoops! - got knocked up and then the show was cancelled.)&lt;br /&gt;LoriD: &lt;em&gt;I HATE Zoey 101 and it's not allowed in our house. The subject matter is just too old/serious for my tween.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) &lt;strong&gt;The Suite Life On&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Deck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;A spinoff from The Suite Life of Zac and Cody and the worst show ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, there are these twin boys and they go to school on a cruise ship, which probably sounds glamorous to SOMEONE. There are a few other characters, including London Tipton, world's richest girl and Paris Hilton clone except she isn't rampantly promiscuous. She is, however, a moron. But that's okay! So is everyone else on the show - man, woman, child - all idiots. And never ever funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there is something WRONG with the boys who play Zac and Cody - one in particular has deep purple circles under his eyes and little stick arms and a narrow caved-in chest. Stop making that sick kid ACT (however badly) AND TAKE HIM TO THE DOCTOR.&lt;br /&gt;(There are absolutely no attractive men on this show. Does it sound like there would be?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://jeniallen.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jeni:&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;I did (unfortunately) see an episode of Suite Life on Deck about a month ago. It was painful. Nauseating. Excruciating. Terrible. And just...bad.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://redclaydiaries.com/"&gt;Steph/RedClayDiaries&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;Suite Life is my least favorite show in the history of television. All television. Ever. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any thoughts on the shows (especially the ones I haven't watched or mentioned)? Let me know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-4982203389871353788?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/yKmwUbyvGRQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/4982203389871353788/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=4982203389871353788" title="48 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/4982203389871353788" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/4982203389871353788" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/yKmwUbyvGRQ/i-watch-them-so-you-dont-have-to.html" title="I Watch Them So You Don't Have To" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">48</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-watch-them-so-you-dont-have-to.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-3894940849374514207</id><published>2009-10-01T15:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T17:01:03.082-04:00</updated><title type="text">My post for today</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.5minutesforparenting.com/504/the-first-day-of-october/"&gt;is about how sad and beautiful and melancholy and fast-passing and lovely life is&lt;/a&gt;. See you there, I hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-3894940849374514207?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/dlgsaqJAF3E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/3894940849374514207/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=3894940849374514207" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3894940849374514207" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/3894940849374514207" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/dlgsaqJAF3E/my-post-for-today.html" title="My post for today" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-post-for-today.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8620256211815594067.post-8441772778306985223</id><published>2009-09-29T18:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T18:52:38.214-04:00</updated><title type="text">This Post Is Only About My Gums</title><content type="html">One of these days, I'm going to write a semi-autobiographical novel and change only one thing from my real life. Here's a snippet of my future-to-be written novel - let's see if you can guess WHAT I changed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"How was your dentist appointment today?" asked Shmebecca's&lt;br /&gt;husband.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Great!" said Shmebecca cheerfully. "They were totally pleased with how&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely had no gum disease and absolutely did not need hours of bloody&lt;br /&gt;cleaning."&lt;br /&gt;"That is awesome," said Shmebecca's husband. "Now watch your&lt;br /&gt;favorite shows while I put the kids to bed."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my husband DOES put the kids to bed every night, and it's literary tradition to change one's name in roman-a-clef type novels (although maybe I won't: "&lt;em&gt;There once was a person named Rebecca. She was right all the time and everyone who disagreed with her was a goof, even when she frequently changed her mind."),&lt;/em&gt; obviously the thing I'm changing is the BLOODY GUM DISEASE. Oh, it was a freaking delightful day. I am pitying myself so much right now, as my gums age and bleed and are just generally really gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add to my decaying physical self - I'm having BACK AND NECK problems right now, my hair is really white and I feel one step away from getting a cane and yelling at young punks to get off my lawn. Actually, I already hate it when young punks are on my lawn and I frequently run outside yelling curses to GET OFF AND GO HOME. Freaking kids. They don't know what it's like to be old and have everything get all gross and/or painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a funny thing, though - as they checked my developing cavities in my molars - lookin' good, cavities! - and tsk-tsk'd at my decaying gums, they complimented my children's freakishly healthy and straight and cavity-free teeth. It's like, Hello! Your body is falling apart AS WE SPEAK, but the good news? Your replacements are TERRIFIC!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grow old, I grow old. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, mainly because I am too lazy to hem 'em. And I am going to go watch an iCarly marathon with my daughter. Carly is young and has great gums and her back probably doesn't hurt, either. Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8620256211815594067-8441772778306985223?l=frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~4/ilPoZ6H0O-Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/feeds/8441772778306985223/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8620256211815594067&amp;postID=8441772778306985223" title="31 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8441772778306985223" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8620256211815594067/posts/default/8441772778306985223" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrogAndToadAreStillFriends/~3/ilPoZ6H0O-Q/phew.html" title="This Post Is Only About My Gums" /><author><name>Beck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13953517447164263617</uri><email>beckfrogandtoad@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="11559023109724258566" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">31</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://frogandtoadarestillfriends.blogspot.com/2009/09/phew.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
