Thursday, May 9, 2013

The Further Adventures of Alice and Ophelia

It started with a chili dog.
I don't eat chili dogs.  Partly because of migraine-y reasons, and partly because, gross.  Hot dogs are made of hair and wood and the skin of circumcised baby boys.  And bum.  And sick.

But I ate it.  I slathered that skinny, weird food-type product in generic canned chili, shredded cheese, enough mustard to cause an ulcer, and I salted the whole thing like I was preserving it for the winter.  It was terrible.  And glorious.  I haven't eaten anything so sinful and amazing in months, and it was all I could do not to stick my whole face in it, and wallow like David Hasselhoff in a cheeseburger factory.  

And then I realized what I had done.  

"I should go sit on the front porch, and think about what I've done."
So I did.

Our yard is, well, the only way to say it is to say that we're "that" yard.  Our grass is always overgrown.  Always.  And because one of us is a militant tree-hugger, we're not allowed to use chemical lawn sprays.  And you shouldn't either.  But that's not the point.  The point is that the dandelions in our yard are plentiful, and they are hardy.  And they are approximately a foot tall.  

No, for real.  

And there is nothing more fantastic to do with a dandelion, than to take it's firm, cool stalk, and split it into two sproingy, cool curlicues, perfect for slapping an unsuspecting bystander.
Well, you can eat them, but this blog isn't about why you shouldn't poison off all those wonderful, edible, medicinal, curlicue-able wonderplants in your own yard...

This blog is about me, sitting on the front porch, fat-full of gross chili dog, splitting dandelion stalks with my daughter.
Or at least that's how it starts.

She produced a frisbee.  Well, I mean she found one.  She didn't pull it out of her ear or conjure it up from Hades or something.  She found a frisbee, and she challenged my honor with a firm frisbee-slap to the arm fat.


Thus began an hour-long frisbee-slap, dandelion-slap fight.  With British accents, because, well I'm pretty sure you have to when it's a duel.

Somewhere along the way, I got totally "into it."  If you've got kids, you know what I mean.  If you don't, it's pretty much like forgetting that you're a grown up, and regressing into some sort of enormous adult-sized child-beast as you play with your kids.


In my defense, she did throw like a fanny, and it's high time someone told her.

For the next hour, Alice and Ophelia chased, insulted, and violently assaulted one another with giant dandelions, sending clouds of white fur into the air, and causing passers by to double-take.  

Is that fat girl running?  After that little girl?  Did she just slap that little girl with weeds???  

I may, or may not have become so engrossed in our weird game of tag, that I ran until my baggy laundry-day underpants made a less-than-graceful descent beneath my sweat pants.  Note to self...purchase new underpants.

And I'm not saying I tackled her, but I did manage to get that frisbee from her, and immediately declared victory over her entire pitiful kingdom, and loudly decreed that "ANYONE FURTHER DARING TO ASSAULT MY PERSON SHALL BE IMMEDIATELY AND MERCILESSLY EXECUTED BY DRAGON-FIRE!"

She reacted by flinging an armful of dandelions in my direction, and collapsing into hysterics.

Then we found horse shit.
Then we found cat shit.
Then we giggled over all the shit we found.
Then she put an "old lady" spell on me.
Then I had the bright idea that we should wander to the park next door, which now contained a selection of six or seven people who kept taking cautious glances in our direction, as we grew louder, weirder, and more British.

She thought she needed roller skates to go to the park, which turned out to be the most absurd, awkward and painful "walk" thru the park ever.  She's pretty adept at carpet-skating, but on a hard surface she's about as nimble as a newborn giraffe.  Legs in every direction, squealing, stumbling and giggling, and both of us with wet bottoms from rolling in the grass, dandelion fuzz in our hair, and covered in dirt.

"SHH!  Don't let the humans get suspicious!  If they find out we're aliens from the Klutz Galaxy, they'll chop us up and stick us in jaaaars!"

"Mom.  We are not aliens.  Act right."

Apparently the game was over.

We stopped to take off her skates, and started toward our house breathless and exhausted.
"Mom, that was the funnest day ever."
Yeah, it kind of was.  
Alice and Ophelia had a much-needed play together, after far too long without.  
I immediately retreated to my bedroom to remove my bra, and dump out about four thousand little dandelion seeds.  I have also since discovered that I sprained an ankle, and that I'm pretty sure I actually injured a bicep throwing that fucking frisbee.  Rockstar.  

There really isn't a point to this whole thing.  I just want to brag about the fact that I can play British dandelion war with the best of them.  And that my daughter throws like a fanny.  

You play ball like a GIRL!  

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