Emma

Well, whaddaya know! I wonder what frog eggs are like. Ew! I don't wonder that at all... Emma assures me they're not really eggs. There's also a "Water Frog" restaurant on the way home that I need to patronize someday, though they tell me it's not a frog eatery, which is a good thing, as then I wouldn't step inside it.



I just know I'm showing my age when I have absolutely no shame in/qualms about marching down to the arcade snack counter and asking for some napkins, seeing as their bathrooms were not equipped with such amenities (besides being dastardly stinky), heheh:



Zoom in to see what's being proffered with all the tasty treats and snack, along the roadside:



(In case you are unable to identify it: that's squid, whole. Oh, Brasil, I do miss thee! :D)

Snacking:





Two pensive feet -- I do feel rather wise in my old age, just look at how those feet ooze wisdom and grace:



It's not Subway: it's Subber!



They do have real Subways, here, as well as both the real Starbucks and the "knock-off" with the similar sign/logo, as well... forget what it's called.

Emma's not a very good actress:



Nor a very good film-ress:



:D

She is, however, an extraordinary massage-chair introduce-er and instruct-or:



We jiggle and (yiggle and giggle), even though you can't really see it:



Emma is also extreeemely talented in the music, apparently (discovered!):



--And our local snails are overly talented in the size [returning from soccer]:



Emma, I shall miss thee, my little turtledove. >:)