Early, early one chilly morning last week, just as the sun glimmered on the eastern horizon, I sat at my desk in the kitchen wearing my hot pink chenille robe, plaid flannel jammie bottoms, long-sleeved thermal top and leopard print fuzzy slippers. I was minding my own business. I was drinking a cup of coffee. I was reading your blog. I was enjoying the warmth and snuggliness that is Pinkie (my robe, it has a name).
As I got up to refill my coffee cup, I looked out the back windows and caught sight of something traipsing across my back yard towards the house. I’d noticed recently that something had been digging in my yard (again) and so I ran to the windows to investigate. And sure enough there WAS something traipsing across my backyard! An interloper! So I grabbed my shotgun and ran outside. Vittles! No, not really. I don’t have a shotgun. But a shotgun would have been a nice accessory to my outfit, don’t you think?
When I got out there, I came face to face with a possum. We paused momentarily to give each other the fish eye. And then I remembered from my days of hiking in Yosemite that if you can make yourself look bigger you can scare off wild animals, like mountain lions. Now, I know this wasn’t a mountain lion, but why take a chance? The last thing I want in the genealogical record is to be the ancestor who was killed by a possum in her own backyard while wearing a hot pink chenille robe.
So I unfurled Pinkie and held out my robe with both hands, and for all intents and purposes, I flashed the possum. And I also did an impression of a lion for effect. But the possum, he was not impressed with my impression of a perverted lion in a pink chenille trench coat. And he waddled off. Waddled. Not scurried, not hurried, but waddled. He didn’t even bother to traipse he was so unimpressed. And then he disappeared into the hydrangeas.
So, for good measure, I flashed him again and growled ferociously letting him know that I meant business, that I was a chenille force with which to be reckoned.
But if you were the person who was out jogging at that particular moment, all you would have seen is a crazy lady out in her backyard at the crack of dawn wearing a hot pink chenille robe, growling like a psycho and flashing the hydrangeas.