Thursday morning, I slept in. Hadn't left the wife at the hospital until after 9PM. Nurse had come in to subtlely suggest she should get her rest around 20:30, but we were in the middle of Buffy. No way were we parting until after nine o'clock.

So I skipped breakfast the next morning, and just headed to the hospital. And decided to get a Mini-Mart cappuccino (known in our family by the eldest son's description "crappuccino"). Knew there was one on 2nd Street, same as the hospital. Thought it was east.

It wasn't. It was just one block west of my junction.

So instead I was headed east, and continued to do so until I hit another Mini Mart. Only took a mile or so. Gassed up, fixed my hot cocoa/French Vanilla crappuccino mixture, and went to the register. And waited for the cowboy with the little girl, driving a minivan, to pay for her goodies.

And noticed, on a shelf off to the left, a bunch of Beanie Babies.

Wife likes beany babies. Not avidly, but she thinks some are cute (But I have the most valuable one in the family... a commemorative Princess Bear, won in a local raffle when there were like only ten allotted to the whole state. Her Honor, the Mayor, who collects, offered me $200.). So I amble over to look, ignoring the bears completely.

I mean, the wife is in the hospital, and has just had surgery. And has received exactly squat for flowers, cards or gifts, since they implied this was supposed to be almost like out-patient treatment.

There's a cute woolly mammoth, but he's kind of, well, brown, and not terribly cheerful.

And there's a frog. A bright, sherbert-coloured frog, with bright tropical orange feet. And a huge head.

Kind of appropriate for someone who just had something removed from their throat, you know. Who was a-feared her voice would croak, and she would never sing again.

The frog was a hit. He went into her hand, and on her lap, and stayed there. Doc had been by, and the wife would be discharged that morning, as planned. I got the errand of running to WalMart for her prescription, while wife tried to get some rest.

Unsuccessfully it turned out... she had been moved Wednesday afternoon. Her roomie was discharged and they had a choice of either putting a post-operative male in with the wife, or having her swapped clear across the floor into the only single room on the floor, and two men put into hers. We enjoyed the shocked looks of two different groups of friends or neighbors who came walzing in expecting to find old Joe, only to find this young woman in his bed.

Yes, that must have been some surgery.

But the new single room was across the hall from the waiting room (where children were left, with the tv perpetually on the cartoon network), so she got no rest.

I, on the other hand, noticed that Central City has launched itself into the technological era, and has installed video monitors on most of their major intersections.

Wife suspects to catch speeders, while I expect it is more for traffic flow and documentation of accidents.

Now, have I mentioned that I have never driven in a parking garage before this trip? Hospital's is six floors. Ceiling only seven feet, which I find incredibly cramped. And, of course, nearly full since I was arriving after rush hour. Ended up driving clear to the top, where no one parks (I thought because of the hot sun), and then parking on the downhill side of level five.

Driving on top was cool. Almost like a helicopter flight, at treetop level, with all the city below, and mountains to the south.

As I walked to the elevator, I saw why no one parks on top unless they have to. This warning sign, by the LifeFlight helipad:

"CAUTION Overspray from Helicopter Washdown"

Yeah, nothing like having your car sandblasted by the chopper while you're in the hospital.

But the frog was still in her hand when I got back. And rode in her hand in the wheelchair, all the way down the hall, down the elevator for five flights, and back up another elevator to the fifth level of the parking garage.

And stayed in her hand, on her lap, as we drove through town.

I stopped at yet another Mini Mart for yet another crappuccino for the drive home. As we began our journey, I pointed out the video camera watching us from up by the street light.

And my young bride lifted her new sherbert-coloured frog to the windshield, and said, in a little girl's voice, "See my fwog?"