GrokgrokgrokGROK!! I don’ wanna go with you! grok grok I wanna go back to kzoo! grokgrok grook bagrawk! I’ll jest go saddle up buoy 22 now ‘n’ head over there. grok grok. Smokie! Get the frog juice ‘n’ listerine! grok grok.

Froggy!!! That is just about enough! Don’t you want to go see The Commander? And Radical Betty? And your owner is going to meet us up there! And what about Grinch? And your buddy Green Guy?

Squee-grawk! Squee-grawk! GREEN GUY!!! Sproing! Sproing! We’re gonna go see Green Guy? Squee-grawk! Squee-grawk! You didn’t tell me that, you old bag! Squee-grawk! Yeah, lemme hop right into th’ car here! Sproing! Squee-grawk!

Uh, Smokie, will you sedate him or something? Quick!

Grok grok. Yeah, Frog juice, with a little chaser of Listerine. grok grok hic grok. hic-zzzzzzzzzzz grokka

And, with that, I guess we are off to the Great White North.

<uuhhhh>Heat. Humidity. Mosquitos. Biting flies. Bad dreams. Not nightmares exactly. And no shoreline stuff for once. Instead, I was frantically and frenetically putting together a play program for YAG at the absolute last possible nanosecond, as usual. As if I didn’t ever have anything else to do at the last possible nanosecond before a play went up. I had to go down about eight flights of stairs to get to the copy machine and I was kind of surfing down them, like my feet were not exactly touching the steps. And you know what it’s like when you get a song stuck in your head and can’t get it out? Every time I woke up during the night, I had a certain song stuck in my head. grok grok. Can ya guess what song it was? grok grok. Bet it was one o’ my little ditties. grok grok. Grok grok yourself, you old green rag. Yes, it was a frog song. It is still in my head. If you don’t know what song I’m talking about, you are welcome to click here to hear it. I am not gonna click. It is an awful little ditty and I need to get it *out* of my head. grokGROK! Whaddya mean? Garbage woman, indeed. Anyway, I did not want last summer to end. Now I do not want this summer to start. Too many people who were here at the start of last summer are not here now and uncertainties about the future abound. Life is going on anyway. I guess I am going with it one way or another and this is just one of those mornings. So after I banish a certain raccoon from the grounds here, I am gonna find *something* to do to make a positive contribution to the world. I just don’t know what yet. Well, I have called Howard Cooper, I guess that’s a start, albeit a small one. grok grok, yeah, get off yer butt. grok grok Let’s go get that raccoon. gork grook</uuhhhh>

As my life continues to have the consistency of an old, dry, crumbly piece of toast, it is fortunate that there are other blahggers out there. Karen locates a missing person (May 23) and discovers that the way to get to Brimley actually does not involve turning left at the Brimily light (May 24). Sam is either talking about mushrooms or my [step-]grandmother. And Mouse, well, it appears that Mouse’s blahg is going to be a lot more interesting than this bunch of drivel. grok grok Whadidya expect, ya oogly old bag! grokGROK! Just a minute. (Shut up Froggy.) Sorry about that. And yes, Mouse *did* start calling herself Mouse at the age of 1-1/2. Mouse could talk as well as any adult at that age and was perfectly capable of clearly (and loudly) expressing her many opinions, including what she thought of the name I gave her at birth. No, I am not at liberty to tell anyone that name. And neither are you, Frooooogggy! grok grok I’m gonna go get some frog juice. grok grok. Hmmm, he’s off to an early start today.

Uh, Froggy? You are on the Planet Ann Arbor and the cabin is on the Shores of Gitchee Gumee. That is 350 miles from here. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you tried to fly Buoy 22 when you were drunk? I do not need any more fighter jets landing in my back yard. Why don’t you just go sleep it off in your laundry basket?

Froggy? Froggy? Are you okay? Hmmmmm. Thud Club, eh? I’d say Froggy has passed the initiation test for that fine organization with flying colors. Green, that is. With a little purple around the eyes. Hey Smokie!

ooh ooh ooh ah ah?

Will you go and wake up Moley?

ooh ooh ooh OOH ah ah!!!

Yeah, I know Moley can get a little surly when you wake him up. Here take this dirty sock in there, that’ll brighten him up. Get Moley and then you, Moley, and Clammy oughtta be able to schlep Froggy back into his basket.

G’night, Froggy, seeya in the morning. Hope your head is okay. Empty nest? Kee-reist!

Tonight we helped Karen, Valdemort and Pengo Janetto celebrate Jim and Karen’s 25th wedding anniversary at Dave’s Ribs with The Commander making a telephonic appearance as we were driving there. Bro’, we missed you but I bet you were watching us through one of the windows. Were we obnoxiously raucous enough? Actually, I guess we didn’t start singing until we got back in the car. Anyway, thanks for bringing Karen into the family. I needed a sister.

Froooogggy, that is just about the strangest Mother’s Day poem ever written.

grok grok grok. EVERY DAY is Mother’s Day, you old bag. Click here for the audio version. If you dare.