From a random weekend...

Just so you know, we here in Linguiniland do get together and do other things than eat stuff.

Sometimes we go bowling.

And then go eat stuff.

Bowling is one of those activities that has somehow fallen into the “uncool” category of activities, I suppose because it has been crowned with that death-ensuring moniker of “family entertainment.” I also notice that any hobby that requires traveling away from a screen gets labeled “geeky” by the media who rely on those screens to sell you their crap.

The bowling alley in Moorefield, W.Va., is conveniently located halfway between Dark Garden’s house and ours, so it’s always our favorite choice of venue.

Well that and the fact that they let you post whatever name you choose on the publicly-displayed score sheet, which is more than half the reason we like to go bowling anyway. No one has yet finished a game with the name they started with.

Oddly, we seem to be the only family who relishes this pastime and no one seems to notice. I do have this fear that somewhere in a back office these names are being monitored and saved for posterity, only to surface in a decade or so when Heir 2 or the Twin Progenies decide to run for Congress.

My sister-in-law Beth and I try to make sure nothing hideously offensive get’s posted, seeing as we are the maintainers of the line and all, but sometimes it takes us awhile to catch on, even though we tell ourselves we’re hip and all.

Anyway, this weekend Dark Garden was trying for his first 200 game – and scored 199. Oh yeah. He choked.

Progeny L after a strike.

Progeny T after a spare.

Heir 2 after nuthin’.

Incidentally, I myself do not bowl – rather, I can’t bowl since my hand surgery a long, long time ago. At the time, the doctor asked me what I liked to do, because sometimes damage is so bad, he can only pick and choose what nerves and muscles to focus on. I listed typing, of course, along with all I did around the house and grooming the dogs and knitting and sewing, etc. There were two things that never entered my mind at the time to mention and one of them* was bowling. The ball literally falls off my hand. Of course I didn’t find out about this until about seven years after the actual surgery, which was the first time I’d gone bowling in over 15 years (explaining why it wasn’t on my short list of things I like to do).

So I sit in the background and offer helpful advice and encouragement – the sort of helpful advice and encouragement people have come to expect me, which is to say I tell Dirtman to pull up his pants.

And could someone please explain why you need bowling shoes for karaoke?

* The other was using chopsticks gracefully. I have found a way to use them, but whenever I do, at least one person will offer me a tutorial during which they perch the sticks in my hand and they promptly fall on the ground.