While walking from 8th Avenue over to the West Side we were giddy because it was warm enough to not be cursing our mother’s for birthing us. (Of course, Roan’s only allowed to make those curses while he’s in the bathroom). It was even so warm that Anson and I stopped for a photo op that Roan seized. He took these pictures and I’ve gotta say….kids got talent.
|The bowling was predictable. I sucked. I always will. It brings us together because I become the “special” one in the family that gets all the encouragement in the world for knocking over a pin. Even Roan dishes that out now, thumbs up, happy smile and a pity-fueled “good job!” If it weren’t so funny it may bring me to kill. Anson is a bowling God, so don’t anyone even ever try to step to that guy. And Roan – he is ready to put the bumpers down.|
|We all looked amazing in our bowling shoes. Saturday bowling with the family during the recession: sneak your own food in, and tell a friend.|