A masked encounter

It's been interesting...as mornings go. One positive thing that I have to say about the school year starting up again...it'll bring to an end, the insufferable walks that I have been coerced into by the up-beat, cheerful people in my life who INSIST that the day begins with the sunrise. 

Uh...no.

So there I was, plodding (unhappily) along my dirt road to meet my Monday Walking Buddy, Shanna...

"I thought she came to the house," Brad interrupted as I was recounting the adventure of my walk to him later. Thus began a philosophical question that I had failed to anticipate. "Well..." I told him, "That was the way it was initially planned. I would wait until Shanna concluded her ka-zillion mile morning jog...often remaining resistantly under the blankets until three minutes prior to our scheduled meeting. Occasionally, Shanna would be running...ha-ha...a bit late and I would wait impatiently for her until it finally dawned...NO ha-ha here...on me that that was a bit of a d!¢K move on my part...SO instead of waiting at the door like I was her nervous prom date, I could, gasp, show some initiative and start walking in her direction." 

There was a pause on the phone as Brad considered my explanation. 

Oops. 

No, he wasn't. 

Turns out...I has offended him with my masculine-related derogatory term. "What is the antonym for d!¢K move?" he asked me. Hmmmm....interesting question. Because if I were to go to opposite genitalia, that societal definition, excuse the expression, wouldn't fit. So where one term would often be utilized to mean "jerk," the other one is often applied as "weak." And to be fair, I would have gone ballistic (no pun intended here), if my husband had dropped THAT word casually into our conversation. Okay. He had a point. What's good for the goose is also good for the gander. It might be time to drop that particular term from my sophisticated vocabulary. 

"Can I please just tell you my story?" I asked when we were done editing the Mosiman Family dictionary (Yes...I giggled).

So there I was, plodding (unhappily) along my dirt road to meet my Monday Walking Buddy, Shanna...

...when, at the top of the hill, I spied a critter scuttling across. Too big for a cat. The animal began making its way down the hill towards me. Oh. It was a raccoon. I immediately struck up a conversation to alert it to my presence. "Late night?" I asked. "I can see from the dark circles around your eyes that you're not sleeping well." It never even paused. "Me too," I commiserated. "I would suspect drinking," I shared, "but you are walking a straight line better than most sober people I know." I was starting to get a little nervous as the animal drew even closer. "Walk of shame?" I ventured before immediately apologizing. Who am I to judge? 

We were now within ten feet of one another. It looked at me suddenly, shocked and surprised. I swear its mouth dropped open. The raccoon swung around to face me, hissed, and arched its back. I had been verbally admiring its shiny coat, glittering eyes, well-maintained striped tail, and the lack of foam erupting from its mouth so despite the fact that it wasn't carrying a certificate of rabies vaccination, I felt mildly confident that I wasn't dealing with an "Old Yeller" situation. And, the raccoon WAS thoughtfully wearing a mask so I also ruled out Covid. 

Was it deaf? I am very limited in my sign language acquisition. I signed, "Hello, Kitty" because that was the closest I could get to "raccoon" after ruling out "lion," "zebra," and "giraffe." It hissed again and stepped closer. Could I drop-kick a raccoon? Morally and/or physically? 

Was it stupid? Better yet...was I stupid? We were clearly NOT going to come to a consensus. Where I had thought that my presence would result in my gaining ground and the raccoon racing for cover...we were, instead, at a stand-off. 

Parallel to one another, we faced each other like gunfighters. I moved forward, up the hill (Signing "Bye, Kitty") while the raccoon took a backwards step, down the hill.  With enough space between us now, I could again breath (sort of...remember...I was walking UP a hill). 

I have heard enraged drivers yell, "What?!? Do you think you OWN the road?" And, no. I have NEVER thought that. It is presumptuous to think that because I'm a person, because I'm bigger, because I have a more-developed brain (said the woman who was considering playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with a raccoon), that I have a right to the road.  We all are on a journey, and when, along the way, you encounter a fellow traveler, share the road. But please, stay in your own lane!