Wiley Coyote

This morning began with me nearly hitting a coyote, wolf, or otherwise equally ferile dog on the highway. Just last week, I instinctively tapped my breaks when a bird refused to fly off the road and J said, "Stacy, that is a bad idea! That's just a bad idea to do that, you could wreck!" and in between giggling about how odd he said it, I explained that it was instinct for me to do it. I was behind a girl in high school driving one time, and a squirrel ran out in the road and she clipped it with her back tire. I was so traumatized that I cried. It was awful. Equally awful was the time I was driving through my neighborhood after dark and there was a small white chihuahua (eating roadkill) and I almost hit that guy too. Knock on wood, I've never hit an animal while driving and I'd like to keep it that way.

So back to this morning, when this beast (that, by the way, made Leo look like a full-bred Pedigree German Shepherd, in juxtaposition to its scraggly wild dog mange-yness) crossed my path while I was going 50 and he was going 40, and I don't know how to do the math (Jamie, think Wally, and "I'm going on a trip") but he very nearly lost his life. It was a close call, and once I got all the sensation back in my body after going numb with adrenaline, I thanked God that the creature was a fast lil guy.

Today it's 85 outside. I left work at 2:30. I also took a long salad lunch with Bob, and that was nice. Especially because we rediscovered our love for Wilson Phillips. After work, he called to tell me he wants to throw a Wilson Phillips/Beach Boys party. It would revolve mostly around the music, but girls could pick one member of WP to come as, and guys would come as a Beach Boy. Yeah, that's what kind of friends I've got. :) Tonight, J and I are going to marathon walk the dooogies around Ghent. We're going to pack mini bottles of vino in Leo's backpack and take them to the park and have a little wine picnic. My happiness level is over-flowing.