Today I went bowling with Lucy and Norman. Lucy was ill last week and couldn't participate in Norman's birthday festivities, so she suggested getting together today for some sort of fun activity, followed by dinner at The Melting Pot. I haven't been bowling in nearly 20 years and was surprised at how much fun I had. My "technique" is a style that's beyond terrible -- it's cartoonish, involving tiptoeing up to the line, dropping the ball with a loud bang, and lots of hand-waving and jumping up and down. I have this weird tendency to flip my hand over at the last second before I release the ball, so that instead of sending it down the lane with a smooth underhand, I'm giving it a little toss up. It's very stupid-looking and hard on my hands; my middle finger is stiff and achy. I ended up with the low score of the day, but like I said, I had a blast.
Norman, one of the least athletic people I know, is actually a terrific bowler. It's like his stealth superpower. He easily surpassed both Lucy's and my scores, and he did it with great style, favoring a grandiose, royal type of gesture.
Please note that the pins are being racked in this shot. He has not just released the ball -- he simply is standing there with his arm upraised, as if to wave hello to yet another spare. I was also impressed with how un-squeamish he was about putting on well-used bowling shoes. Believe me when I assure you how completely unlike Norman that is.