Bowlin'

A couple of weeks ago my nephew Clay (formerly known as Clay Bug but don't tell him I told y'all that because he is a grown and mature 11 year old now and Clay Bug is no longer acceptable to call him in public) invited us to go bowling with him for his birthday. Most of my peeps were born in July (my Papa, PeePaw, cousin Griff, uncles Mitch and Mark, Canyon, Clay) and since we live in the south and it's hot enough to make you wish you lived on the sun there is a law that says July birthdays must have a pool party. But this year, for reasons unknown to me, we didn't plan a huge family party. So anyway Clay wanted to go bowling. And, you know, we were all for it. It's inside. It's cool. What could go wrong?

First, there's nothing as entertaining as going to a sketchy bowling ally on the washed up side of town. We pull in and we were the ONLY people there. (Happy birthday Clay. We got you the entire bowling ally all to yourself.)

Upon arrival to this fine establishment I realized I had worn flip flops and (horror of horrors) I had forgotten my socks. And I hated more than anything to tell my husband because I didn't want to see the look on his face that confirmed my brilliance. I confessed in the parking lot my lack of appropriate foot apparel...And the look? It did not disappoint. So I had to wear the shoes with no socks. But Adam made me feel better about it with, "If your big toe falls off we'll know why."




My sister pointed out that they spray them down after each and every use. And with the looks of things they aren't used often which was a comforting thought as I slipped them on.


All I know is that I have waited 6 long years to see A-master at this level of sexiness.


But the best part? They didn't even have the air conditioner on. Adam pointed out that since we were the only ones there they had made roughly $25 and he didn't blame them for not having the air on. So unless they get their minds right and turn the air on I am voting that we bring back the pool party next year.



Somehow Heather got the snazzy blue pair on the far left which made us all a little jealous. But the ones I really wanted Jolie got. Is there anything better than velcro bowling shoes? I think not.

If you look close you can see the perspiration on the bridge of her nose.

After a many a ball in the gutter (isn't that what it's called? Adam isn't here to correct my terminology. Where is Adam on Friday night at 10:00? Playing softball. Final game of the season.) they came and lifted these little guards which was much appreciated.

I know this surprises y'all, but Jolie and myself were the only ones that didn't bowl a strike. (See, here again, I am not sure that is the correct terminology, but we'll go with it.)

It's been 4 days and I am proud to report that all my toes are still in tact. Knock on wood.