ROLF-ing While Folf-ing

It's summertime, and that means the return of disc golf.

In most places disc golf is a relaxing, fun, somewhat competitive game college-age boys play while drinking beer. In our household it's a ruthlessly competitive, high scoring excuse to fire off one-liners and quite possibly knock family members unconscious with errant frisbee throws.

Alternately known as “frisbee golf,” or “disc golf” by those who actually know how to throw a disc/frisbee, The Prince decided to call it “folf.” Because “dolf” just sounds ridiculous.

The Princess kicked off our first outing of the season in full-on fashion police mode, announcing that “if he doesn't have to wear a shirt” – pointing at a group of college-age boys – “then I don't have to wear a shirt either.”

I explained that part of the reason an attractive 17-year-old girl does have to wear a shirt is because of college-age boys who don't wear shirts. And that while we were at it, perhaps she would like to put on a pair of baggy-saggy sweatpants and shapeless sweatshirt.

We teed off on the first hole with our usual lack of style and distance, but showed unusual grace and etiquette in remaining behind whoever was throwing. We've learned the hard way that while there are no guarantees in folf, behind the thrower is the safest place to be. There, or in sitting in the parked car, but that gets hot.

The Princess has been charting the pollen count with a growing pile of tissue since the snow melted, so I wasn't surprised to hear a loud “AHHHHHH-PPFFFFTTTHTHH!” in the middle of the first tree, bush and weed-strewn fareway.

What followed did surprise me: “MOMMMYYYYY! A BUG TRIED TO KISS ME!”

I was also surprised by the full-on body tackle she nearly leveled me with, apparently expecting some post-tramatic, bug-kiss comfort. I was just happy it was a bug that tried to kiss her and not one of the bro tank, cargo shorts-wearing college boys.

After shooting quadruple bogey, reverse albatross, flying filberts on the par 3 hole, we set off for the next tee. This is where we decended into our usual chaos. The hole-by-hole highlights:

Hole 2

Not only did we hit our first trees, but I managed to land my disc in the middle of the road.

P&P: “You gotta play it where it lies, Mom!”

Me: “They really should warn motorists when we play.”

Hole 3

A thought occurred to me as I tried to hack my way through a solid wall of gnats...

Me: “You know what we need?”

Princess: “Margaritas in a can!” (she said as she kicked an empty can off the trail)

Prince: “Folf shoes!"

Me: “Bug spray!”

Hole 4

The Prince tried a new throwing technique which did, indeed, improve the distance thrown but did nothing to improve his accuracy. Thus he launched drive from the deep weeds in the ditch on the far side of the road into a patch of deep weeds on the opposite side of the fareway... a patch of deep weeds separating us from a roaming pack of college-age boys.

Princess: “The first rule in looking for a disc: Go back 20 feet.”

Me, keeping an eye on the college boys: “The first rule in looking for a disc: Keep college-age boys 20 feet away from my daughter.”

While searching for the Hole 5 Tee

Princess: “That guy who took the road less traveled.... How does he know it made all the difference?”

Who knew folf could be so filisophical?

Hole 5:

The Prince launched a “thumber” straight and true across the deep valley, up the hill and onto the lip of the fareway. The Princess' disc sailed straight and true 10 feet away from the tee and into the woods.

Princess: “How to throw farther than Me: Step one, throw the frisbee.”

However, her short throw did made it somewhat easier to track her disc in the “deep nature.”

Princess: “It smells like allergies. I took ag classes. I know.”

While searching for the Hole 6 Tee

Prince: “I found the Hole 6 basket!”

Me: “We could walk back and try to find the tee.”

P & P: “Or we could move on to the 7^th tee.” Majority rules.

Hole 7

Prince: (While warming up) “I hope frisbee golf is a TV sport.”

Me: “I really don't...”

Princess: “If you don't hurry up and throw that frisbee, I'm gonna throw you!”

Me: “Hmmm, maybe reality TV.”

Once againg the Prince's “thumb drive” sailed down the fareway. The Princess? Not so much.

Princess: “Ugh. My frisbee is in this big pile of nature. Look at me! I'm taking the road less traveled by.”

Hole 8

The Prince continued to dominate, and it started to annoy his sister.

Princess: “It starts out and looks like it's going places. It's up in the air... it's going... but then it's like, 'Wow. Five feet'.”

Hole 9

Prince: “Aww man, 9 has that big grass thing you have to throw over.”

Princess, nodding knowingly: “The sea of allergies.”

Me: “Should I try to go around the obstacle and loose the frisbee in the grass, or try to go over the obstacle and loose the frisbee in the grass?”

P&P: “Just throw it!”

In the end the Prince and I both managed to clear the sea of grass, but the Princess' disc took a nasty hook and headed into the forest. While searching she announced...

Princess:“A plant peed on me!” I have no explanation, but there was something icky on her leg.

Between the bug-kiss and the plant-pee (and loosing terribly to The Prince) we decided to call it quits after the front nine (or eight, as the case may be). But rest assured once the swelling from the bug bites has gone down and the allergies are under control we'll be back at it.

You've been warned.