Doing Battle

Yesterday morning I stepped outside to revel in the beautiful start to the day; the fruit trees in front of the house are in full, riotous bloom, and it is a real sprirt booster. (Here at our house, we call them the "cotton candy trees", since that is exactly what they resemble).

Stepping back for a better view, my eyes fell on my lawn, and I was filled with irritation. How can I call it a lawn, really, when it is 80% dandelions? Literally thousands of those scrubby yellow heads, in infinate varities, bobbing in the breeze. I decided it was time to wage a small war.

This required a trip to Home Depot for some weed killer. I already had a fabulous weed yanking device, almost like a walking stick with a vicious claw on the end that, when pushed down over an offending plant, grabs the whole obnoxious little entity and thoroughly evacuates it from the ground. Nevertheless, I meant business, and figured a follow up dose of something lethal would send a more serious message.

I got more than I bargained for when I reached the store, however. I walked down the hardware aisle (yes, I know weed killer is in the garden department; It's just that I browse Home Depot the way some women browse shoe stores. I love the smell of the lumber, and sifting through boxes of copper pipe fittings. Then there's the paint chips. ::shiver:::...but I digress.)
All of a sudden a voice bellows,
"MY GOD. THERE she is!"

Oh no. Oh no, no...its Peculiar Dad.

Peculiar Dad is the father of one of my sons classmates. I don't think I can even remember his real name, and I have known him over two years. The last time I ran into PD was at the post office a few months ago. I walked in, surveyed the line of 20 or so people, and was ready to walk out when I heard, "MY GOD. THERE she is!", and yes, you got it, it was PD. He did not stop there, though...he waved his arms in the fashion of a band leader and hollered to the full lobby, "Is she not a SHOWSTOPPER? My GOD. If my wife were pregnant right now, she would be the reason. Hoooo!!" Whoa, hello...what?! What kind of creepy compliment is that? And why was he shouting it to all these people who were now staring at me? I did not know whether to be flattered, or to honor my body's request to go someplace quiet and throw up.

So here he was, waiting to pounce, and I could feel the innapropriate compliment he was preparing to launch building up momentum by the wild-eyed look he gave me.

"My God, look at her!" He grabbed the clerk to his left and pointed right at me like I was on fire. "Are you dieting to death, woman?? You look good enough to eat!" He turned to the four or so other occupants of the area, and roared, " She is a goddess, men, a GODDESS!" Oh, sweet merciful misery. I s it wrong my horror was almost eclipsed by my taking pleasure in the fact that this man of questionable sanity was publicly declaring my fabulousness? The man clearly needs medication (or is on medication with some serious side effects), but I could not decide if I should stay and risk more creepy praise, or run while the praise was still (relatively) inoffensive. I opted to run. Who knows where he could have taken that speech next?

Once home, battle began with great seriousness. I discovered I had purchased Weed and GRASS killer by mistake, due, I am certain, to being rattled by the PD. So, all that was left for me was the yanking device. For the first twenty plants, it was supremely satisfying. After the next fifty or so, I began to get bored. By the time I had cleared half the front lawn, I had a blister on my palm. All in all, it took over three hours of gouging and pulling with that weed wand before being able to declare victory. In addition to my sore hand, aching arms, and frequent sneezing attacks, I also have a fierce sunburn on my left shoulder. Yes, I should be pretty miserable. But you know what? Not only did I beat the weeds, but lets remember...I am a GODDESS!