Avi the tiny foothill frog in the girl's room
On Thursday, August 2, we had a playdate with one of my new classmates, Saniyah. At their house they have an awesome pool that goes to about 11 feet. In the deep end, there are a ton of foothill yellow-legged frogs making their home in cement cracks and the ivy around the pool.
“You can take them home if you want,” Saniyah tells us. “We could make a habitat for them and you could take them.”
This got my attention.
“OK,” I responded. So we gathered rocks and a pinecone and placed it in a big container full of chlorinated pool water.
“Wait,” Saniyah’s sister, River said, “This is pool water. We need fresh water.”
So we poured out the pool water and filled it up with fresh water, filled it with the rocks and and pinecone and at last we were finished. Well, not quite…
“Now we need a frog.” I ran to the deep end and searched, but no frog could be found. We looked in the filter, no frog. We looked in the ivy, no frog. Finally, we decided that we should get in the pool again. Sooner or later, we figured, a frog would come out.
So we played a couple rounds of Marco Polo and finally we spotted a frog.
Our joy faded as soon as we realized we couldn’t get it out from the crack it was in. So we waited. And waited. The frog moved— everyone dashed to the crack. But it didn’t move anymore. So we waited some more until we wanted to play Marco Polo again.
Finally, Saniyah’s little brother spotted a frog swimming in the pool! It was a yay for all of us.
So we picked it up, put it in the container, put a plastic wrap around it and poked holes.
Phew.
It was done.
So it was time to go back home and as we were driving, my sister and I started thinking of names.
“Avi!” I suggested.
“No.”
“Olive!”
“No.”
“Well, if we can’t think of a name, we won’t name it,” I said.
“I thought it’s name was Avi!”
“You said you didn’t like that name!”
And sister fight.
But that is our cute story of how we came to adopt Avi the frog. We love him so much and hope he has any feelings for us, but for now we’re just hoping. ;-)
Written and typed by 10 year old granddaughter.
![Sam was born at 3am on 1-1...]()
Sam was born at 3am on 1-13-33, at 1303 Washington Street. We learned about this when we went to get Sam's birth certificate for a visa to go on a trip to Japan in 1971.
The number thirteen played actively throughout Sam Goto’s life. During his last days alive, we all knew he was dying and Kelly asked her dad, “If you find out you can communicate in the next life, what’s some sign we can watch for?”
Sam kind of brushed it off, and could hardly put his words together but said, “Look for number 13.”
I flew to San F yesterday, August 1, 2018. Our daughter’s car got a flat tire on the way to her apartment from the airport. Thank goodness we got through San F and Sausalito and it happened one exit before her exit. Kelly called Uber so I could replace the baby sitter. She also called AAA road service. The last time her car was serviced, the "lug nut key” was not put back where it was supposed to be inside the vehicle, so the AAA guy brought her home and left the car.
This morning, I took the girls to their summer camp by Uber. I went to the teacher’s staff room at this school and got on the phone to see if we could get the tire fixed before Kelly had to drive to her appointment with her lawyer in the afternoon in San Mateo.
I called Land Rover for an appointment, but they had none. Brandon referred me to Toscalito Tire Service nearby in Corte Madera. I talked with Paul and explained that I would have the car towed to his shop if he could change the tire by early afternoon. He could, but first I needed to make sure we could get the right tire. I called Land Rover back and they needed a vin number. Brandon sent me to Steve at parts and yes, they had the tire.
Uber was called, but I had to stop back at the apartment to get the car keys; meanwhile, calling AAA and arranging a tow to Toscalito Tire Service. Paul at Toscalito said, I can’t do anything until you get the “Lug Nut Key”. Then he got an idea, “We have our own supplier for tires, but maybe I can talk to Steve at Land Rover, buy the tire from him and ask to borrow the master set of “Lug Nut Keys”. So Paul called Steve, made the arrangement and sent his assistant across the freeway to Land Rover, who came back with both.
They tried all the keys in the box, but none would fit. Paul said maybe we can try breaking the lug nuts off like the thieves do. It worked. Kelly was within 5 minutes of renting a car to get to her appointment in San Mateo with the lawyer, but didn’t have to do so. YEAH PAUL, nothing like good service!!!
Paul showed me the master key box and there was a empty slot where #113 was missing. I told Paul the story of the significance of #13 in our life.
So, when Kelly got to Toscalito to pick up the car, Paul showed Kelly the box and we had a good cry, knowing Dad was looking out for her.
I’m back at Kelly’s apartment waiting for the girls to get home from their play date after their day at camp was over and here they come.
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