Big doings today as we prepare for a “Good-Bye Cookout Party” we are hosting for Chloe.
Cassie: The event she picked to do with the group was bowling?
Scott: Yea. It will be fun.
Cassie: Ten girls bowling?
Scott: Yea. What’s the problem?
Cassie: I’ve only ever bowled a few times, I think. Like, I’m not even sure I can remember the last time I bowled. Have you and I ever bowled together?
Scott: No….now that I think of it. Is this going to be like on our honeymoon….when you had never really played tennis?
Cassie: Yep. I think so.
Scott: Oh man. Well, you have to come so you can bring some of the girls in your car. We can’t fit all the girls. Chloe’s also asking one of the parents with a monster SUV if they can help drive to the place.
Cassie: I should probably just drop off…or watch in the background.
Scott: I think you should bowl.
Cassie: I don’t want to bowl.
Scott: Yep. You’re going to bowl.
Cassie: Nope. (Pause) I don’t want to wear the shoes they make you wear that everyone else has already worn a gazillion times. As the boys would say….total barf.
Scott: I think you have to do this for Chloe, hon.
Cassie: I remember one time playing with my Dad and Jay. Jay won, or maybe my Dad. They both got all the strikes.
Scott: You know “strike.” That’s something.
Cassie: The ball is very heavy.
Cassie: And when I’d roll it, that time I played with my Dad, it would just go down the sides and I wasn’t able to get any pins to go down….like ever…during the entire ten hours we were there.
Scott: (sighing) It wasn’t ten hours. It’s only for a couple of hours. Gutter balls. You got gutter balls.
Cassie: Yep. A lot of ’em.
Scott: It happens.
Cassie: And then a few times I lost complete control with the ball — it’s so heavy — and it went over into other lanes….where other people were playing. That got my Dad pretty worked up.
Scott: Really? Your ball went into other lanes?
Scott: How old were you?
Cassie: Eleven or twelve, I guess. We’d moved to New Hampshire. Jay was little but he was a natural at bowling….like he was at any sport of any kind. I remember it was some bowling alley in Nashua…on Rt. 101.
Scott: Hmmmm….the ball going into other lanes…that happened to you more than once?
Cassie: Yea. A coupla times. My Dad had a fit. He couldn’t understand how it was that if I didn’t have enough arm strength to successfully get the ball all the way down my own lane, I was actually able to wing it into someone else’s lane.
Scott: You didn’t have any control.
Cassie: Yea. No control. Dad was really embarrassed. Alarms went off or something. And the guy in charge of the bowling alley got super pissed.
Scott: And you’ve never played since?
Cassie: Not that I can recall. I mean I’ve dropped kids off for birthday parties and stuff…but I’ve never wanted to play. Sheesh! Can you blame me? Who would want to put those smelly shoes on?!
Scott: Jesus, Cass. You wear socks. (Pause) Yea. Maybe, you should just watch and cheer everybody on today, you know?
Cassie: I know it. That’s what I’m saying.