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I do not like being cold. I am at work wearing jebra's winter hoodie with the hood up and I'm still cold. His hoodie is warmer than mine as his has some sort of thermal layer inside the sleeves and is usually too warm for me to wear at my desk. Not today it isn't. It was -3 (F) when I got out of my warm & cozy bed this morning. According to Weather Underground it is a whopping -2 now (with a windchill of -13). When we got home from work last night we discovered our screen door was standing wide open. The pneumatic closer was pulled apart and the springy thing at the top of the door was hanging there useless as well. I think it is way too cold to do any work outside so my vote is that we leave it as is until the cold breaks. Hopefully that won't be more than a handful of days.
Saturday's bowling extravaganza reminded me of the role bowling played in the family I grew up with. My (adoptive) dad was a strong bowler and had a shelf full of trophies he'd won. He kept them down in our cold cellar so they must not have been all that important to him, but he did keep them so they must have meant something to him. I know that he and my (adoptive) mom belonged to a bowling league and they'd hire a babysitter and out out to bowl on a regular basis. Being a kid at the time, the frequency was not something I took note of. I have no idea if it was weekly, monthly, or every other week. I do remember that my mom was not as good of a player and that if she won one, it was more of a participation reward. My dad would never say anything belittling about her playing but that was the impression I got. My Uncle Ronald was another avid bowler, to the point that when the entire family spent Sunday afternoons with the grandparents (My mom had one sibling, her sister Theresa, so the entire family, counting husbands and children) was a total of ten people) my uncle would watch bowling shows on the tv. When you're a kid, bowling in black and white is not very interesting.
Bowling in real life is more interesting but I found it frustrating as well. I'd watch the balls go down the alley and be so hopeful the player would get a strike only to have a trio of pins still standing or, worse, a split. Fortunately bowling was just for fun, so I did not witness any tantrums when the results were scored. Odd that that would be one of my worries, as I don't think I grew up witnessing temper tantrums. My first serious boyfriend, though, now he had one heck of a temper when things would go wrong. One of the funniest things I ever witnessed was him screaming "Here! Have some more!" as he smeared a hot-dog across the front of his previously white t-shirt because a huge drop of ketchup fell from the dog onto the shirt.
Scrapbook papers & elements from the kit Bohemian Breeze
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