Wild Life

Well, sort of anyway. This week, the goal of walking fifty miles was set before rational thought could intrude. Since it was set, it will be pursued. Toward that end (29.5 miles so far), the mister and I set off with our daughters in tow (The Boy was gone for a sleepover.) to walk to the nearest McDonald's for an end-of-school ice cream treat. The 3.25 mile trek would bolster Mommy's mileage while giving us all plenty of time to chat.
All went entirely according to plan on the way to the nutritional blight restaurant; however, the trip home was not ordinary. As we crossed the entrance drive to Starbucks, we waved to friends enjoying an evening on the coffee shop's patio, pleased to see them unexpectedly. We next passed the Beach and Tennis Club (The Beach is a landscaped swimming area complete with sand.) where there was a wholly unexpected sighting. A wholly unexpected, and less pleasing, sight than that of familiar faces.
A brown blob shifted in my peripheral vision, and a sideays glance yielded the view of a tarantula creeping along. Heh?! We all stopped to stare. A discussion of whether this was "really cool" or "way gross" followed. A herd of walking women paused to see what we were looking at, and then went on their way a little startled by the object of our fascination. The determination was made that the critter was likely a pet that some enterprising Mom or sibling had freed into the wilds of the suburban landscape rather than a sign of any burgeoning local population. Still, the girls and I jumped every time a blade of tall grass brushed our bare calves or the slight breeze carressed a bare arm with the memory of large fuzzy legs so fresh in our minds' eyes.