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.

Scott: Yep.

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?

Cassie: Yea.

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.