I like to try new things and this week was no exception.
Okay, I really don’t like to try new things and this week was no exception.
My grandson and daughter-in-law invited my husband and I to go bowling. Now, I’m no slouch at this game. In fact, I recently beat my brother, Mike. Did you get that, Mike? I beat my older brother MIKE (that’s his name) at bowling.
We get our shoes and hurry to the lane. My 9-year-old grandson is excited to get started and he throws his ball down the alley.
I’m up next. I pause and align my feet with the appropriate arrows. I move my ball into the optimal position and step forward. Here’s where I tried something new. Instead of just throwing the ball down the lane, I decide to try bowling my entire body. I release the ball just one second late which causes me to step over the foul line where I instantly become Wile E. Coyote peddling my feet on the highly-buffed hardwood as if I’d just run off the edge of a cliff.
Observers tell me they thought for one moment I was going to save myself, but that was not the case. SPLAT–I crash down on my tailbone and then fall back, hitting my head on the polished hardwood. As I slowly glide, spreadeagled down the lane toward the pins, I think I hear my father’s loving voice from my childhood. “Oh…honey…you know you’re not coordinated enough to play a sport.”
I make it to my hands and knees and crawl back to my seat. I shake my head in attempt to bring the scoreboard into focus. I think I see a 1 next to my name so, trying to pull some dignity out of the situation, I say, “Well, at least I didn’t throw a butter gall.” I look around at the six people staring back at me, blink my eyes until they return to the original three people and say “Ha, ha. Butter Gall? I meant to say Butter Gall. Wait, that’s not right.” I struggle to figure out what order the letters should go in.
Just as my daughter-in-law suggests an emergency room visit I come up with the right words. “Gutter Ball!” I shout. “At least I didn’t throw a gutter ball!”
Unfortunately, I can’t say that for much of rest of the game, ending with a pitiful score somewhere under 50.
The good news is – there’s nothing funnier to a nine-year-old boy than watching an adult slip and fall. Right now, my grandson thinks I’m hilarious.
Not sure what is funnier. A rolling grandma or a nine year old laughing at a grandma rolling!
Have Malia’s Grandma give it a try and let me know what you think!
I am choosing to take the higher ground here as this is the only time you defeated me in any sport our entire lives (I mean EVER), no seriously if I were to detail the number losses we would run out of space on your blog. Wow it really feels good to take the high ground.
Your brother MIKE!
I fine, thanks for asking.
I knew you would be fine, it’s the polished hardwood that I am concerned about.
Love you sis.
Oh shoot! And I thought this post was going to be about some exotic food you had to eat while doing anthropological research in the Andes…
Ha ha. I actually did a search of the term first. It sounds exotic, doesn’t it? Or perhaps it can be used as a curse word. OH! Butter Gall!
Does it work?
Works for me! I’ll have to practice. Pardon me while I untangle me tongue from my tooth!
I love the image of tongue tangled with tooth!
Another fine post, oh Mayor of Crazietown.
Thanks for visiting Crazie Town. Ya’ll come back soon, ya hear?
Butter gall–I love the term.
I went bowling with my sister one time. She stood at the line and then made her approach. She released the ball which hit the right hand gutter hard and bounced up and over in to the lane next to us. She watched in horro as the ball sped toward the pins knocking them all down much to the dismay of the man who was ready to throw his ball. My sister made us leave shortly after that incident.
You are not alone in bowling faux pas.
Ahh, the famous “Bowl in the other lane” move. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it in person. You’re so lucky!