Queen Pin

Last Night for the *umpteenth time I challenged my perpetually patient and loving significant other to a bowling match. He is an old school football player who in my humble opinion can be somewhat competitive. He agreed we'd been talking about this match for long enough and it was time to gauge who is the better bowler. It was the cumulative score of two games that would decide who was the Big Lebowski in our household. And after a few hours of taunting and psychological warfare followed by two intense and even hazardous games:

It turns out I am thee Queen Pin.

We've decided to build a trophy for our challenges. Last night we decided that the loser would have to build the trophy. Which is a damn shame now that I have a great idea for a trophy. It would include a drawing figure on top of a huge slab of wood. Possible spray painted gold:

On the way home R was commenting on what a good bowler I was. He loves to be as encouraging as possible. I think this is the residual effect of raising seven kids. - this being supportive of even the dumbest endeavors. I told him I had dreams of bowling glory as a kid. The truth of the matter was that I really did!

I dreamt of going to the provincials for 5-Pin glory.

I never made it. We went as far as the cities where I did my best, but found it simply wasn't good enough. I told R all I could remember from that day was being in a different bowling alley that smelled strongly of Cheezies. I remember it being such a strong smell that I could taste it in the back of my throat. I was off Cheezies after that.