Friday, March 28, 2003

Well, it's officially golf season again. That should improve my husband's mood. This is the first winter in a few years that he has actually been unable to golf for most of the winter and it hasn't been easy for him.

Well that was a pathetic attempt at entertainment--I just have nothing to say today. This is not good. My brain has been really fuzzy these past few days, and if it's from my skinny pills I'm going to have to ignore it. I can't afford to stop taking them. The last thing this high school cheerleader wants is to show up at that pesky reunion with a less than perfect figure. Pride, pride, pride, what can I say? I need to show up with a tight ass and a book deal. Nah, I really don't care tooooo much, it's just that it would be nice to still appear to be at the top of my game, you know? Our class was fairly clique-free by the end of our senior year, and i had a lot of friends, and no known enemies, but still. I really relish the thought of showing up looking and feeling fantastic, that's all. And so I will.

The Frog Prince

Once upon a time there was a little froggie, named Prince. He was so sweet and green, just sitting by the pond, catching flies. He heard approaching footsteps and tensed in preparation to fight or flee, as was his instict. When the sound of the footsteps was united with the feet making the sound, little Prince looked in astonishment at the vision of beauty before him. An elegant princess was before him and something deep inside him stirred--a memory? a dream? He knew this lovely creature and was moved by her presence. She sat on a big rock and began to cry. Her soft little shoulders shook and her long black hair lay in waves across her shoulders, falling forward to block his view of her perfect silhouette. His little froggie heart skipped a beat and he was overwhelmed by the fear of losing his chance with her...a chance with her? Yes, it WAS a memory. Not a, not a dream. He was not a frog, but that Prince from that fairytale who was turned into a frog with a spell by an evil sorcerer...a spell which could only be broken by the kiss of his true love. Only it was no fairytale. it was a nightmare from which he feared he would never wake. A waking nightmare, his cold hard reality. Seeing her had jarred his memory of who he really was, but he could not determine the best manner in which to approach this beautiful girl--his potential savior. If only he could still speak...well, he would try it. He cleared his throat, and opened his little froggie mouth and tried with all his might to make the words, "Do not cry," come out. "RIIIIIIIBBBBBBIIIIIITTT!!!" he bellowed, instead. The sound was so loud and close, that the sad little princess looked up at him, startled. She blinked, and shook her head. No, it couldn't be. She had heard the kindest voice say, "Do not cry." But the only one in sight was a little frog. A dear little thing, looking at her so earnestly and with such a depth to his little amphibian eyes, that her heart was touched and she stood to approach him.
"Well hello little froggie. It is a sad day for me, but you seem so peaceful here in your little pond. Aren't you a lucky frog? You do not have people telling you that you must marry an ugly fat old man. It isn't fair." her lip quivered and the tears started falling again, as she scooped up the little frog and held him in her cupped hands. "If I could find my true love before tomorrow at sundown, I would be free to marry him, but that will never happen and I'll be forced to wed that pig." She sobbed harder, as she thought of the duty which she had to her crown to marry a prince, and the one her parents had chosen for her. The man was old enough to be her father. The only reason he had been chosen was so her kingdom could acquire more land. She rubbed the little frog's head with the tip of her finger, so softly. The little frog seemed to enjoy that, so she continued. He did enjoy it. He decided to try again, to speak to her of what was in his heart. "Riibbiiiitt," is all he heard. But the dear girl heard, "You are so beautiful," and her jaw dropped as she realized the voice had truly come from the little green frog in her hands. She nearly dropped him, in her surprise. "Did you speak to me?" The frog was confused. He had tried to speak, but only was able to make frog sounds. He wondered if she could understand him, so he tried again. "What is your name?" Again, he heard a ragged croak.
"Isabelle, heir to the stupid throne." She gave a half smile and began to doubt her own sanity. Talking to a frog? The little prince's eyes shone with excitement and love. It was her. She would save him and he would save her. "Kiss me and I'll be your prince," he sang, so full of hope and joy that the words even sounded right to him. Isabelle felt the truth of his words, and was washed in relief, happiness and warmth. She lifted the little guy to her perfect rose bud lips and kissed him with the softness of a summer dew. The world dropped away, and all was black and quiet. She roused herself from this state and returned to the world, taking in the new sights around her. She was lying on her back next to the pond, and next to her was the most beautiful young man, who was also just returning from unconciousness. "Isabelle?" He said, with a smile and not a hint of frog in his voice or appearance. "Yes...prince." She smiled shyly, now realizing this would be her husband. "Jacques...Prince Jacques." He took her hand and kissed it, then pulled her close and hesitating before kissing her, said, "You saved me, so I will save you." And with that kiss, sealed their fate as fairy tale true love and assured their happily ever after.

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