02 May 2003

I have never met a man so adept at the art of dandelion-fighting as Jake. Admittedly, while we were outside, sipping smoothies and smoking cigarettes, I held the strong belief that I would always win dandelion fights, because nobody else would be so childish as to engage themselves in such foolishness. I guess I was wrong. Two minutes after I'd blown that first dandelion seed at Jake, he was chasing me through the front yard, my shoes had fallen off, and I was covered with those stupid white seeds from head to toe.

Never underestimate a man's capacity to win a dandelion fight.

I think the neighbors think we're crazy.

...Which is okay, because I happen to know that the neighbors are crazy.

On our way to an AA meeting (our main social network) that evening, we drove up to the Capitol Dome to watch the sunset, purple and orange, over Capital Lake, and to watch the Olympia Mountain Range grow dimmer and dimmer on the other side of the Puget Sound. We decided we wanted to live in Olympia forever. Then we changed our minds and decided we'd move away to the Marshall Islands. Then, without a map, we didn't know where the Marshall Islands were, exactly. Jake says most people speak English there, but that I could probably get a job teaching English anyway. Then, we decided to just forget about going anywhere, or staying anywhere, and go to the meeting.

After the meeting, it was still nice outside. I was warm enough so that I didn't have to wear a coat. It seemed such a shame to waste the weather on going home. So we drove down to the boardwalk. We strolled, heads high, spirits light, gazing at the water. It was all so picture-perfect. So I kicked Jake in the ass. And he kicked me in the ass. And on we strolled, kicking each other in the asses, until it was sort of a dance: step, thud, step, thud, step, thud... When that got boring, I stooped to pick up a handful of cherry blossoms, which I tossed over Jake's head. When that was somewhat unsuccessful, I beat him over the head with a blossom-laden twig. Then we made out. On nice nights, it seems like all of Olympia's couples go down to the boardwalk to make out.

He tried to push me into the Sound. I tried to push him. He wasn't trying very hard. I was trying with all my might. Fortunately, neither one of us succeeded.

Step, thud, step, thud, step, thud...

"Hey Jake... Let's go play on that playground..."

So, in the manner of a couple of eight-year-olds, we bounded over to the playground, went down each slide, went down the slides backwards, climbed on all the equipment, and then played "airplane" on the balance beam.

[To play "airplane," one stands on the balance beam with arms raised out at one's sides. One announces a destination, and runs off the end of the balance beam, jumping at the end.]

Then we went down the slide backwards. It's delightfully liberating to do such things without being told, "you'll poke your eye out," or similar threats.

Then we jousted. Jake won. Jake always wins. It's just because he's bigger and taller than me. It's sort of an uneven match. I threw some more cherry blossoms at him.

We pinky-swore an oath that, when we got married, we still wouldn't ever grow up.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I've come down with a hideous illness. I suppose it's a sinus infection. Anyway, I got really dizzy in class the other day, and my thoughts felt... oh, sort of squirmy, and I couldn't concentrate. Naturally, I figured I was probably going insane, and freaked the hell out. Mr. Jensen later assured me, "hey, either you die, or you don't die, so there's no reason to get worked up over not feeling good." So I felt better. You really can't argue with such impeccable logic.

My head feels like it's stuffed with millions of those little UPS styrofoam peanuts. I feel like writing "Fragile, open this end," on my my forehead.

Probably, I just got a bunch of those little dandelion seeds stuck in my stupid sinuses.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Despite feeling like absolute shit, I'm doing pretty well. My dear friend Meg sent me some hot chocolate, a huge mug, and a cute t'shirt in the mail, just for the hell of it. It's her birthday soon; I'll have to get her back.

I can pick up my paycheck today: the first one I've gotten in months. Twenty bucks is going for gas, seven-forty is going for cigarettes, and nineteen-twenty is going to Barnes and Nobel for the new Tom Robbins book, "Villa Incognito," out this week.

What a grand life it is.

~Helena*