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I'm not a bowler.
That's not to say that I don't love to bowl. I have been bowling -- for fun -- for years and have decades of bowling memories, dating back to when I'd accompany my parents on their league nights when I was just a toddler.
But I'm not a bowler. A good game of bowling, for me, is to break 100. No, I take that back; that would be a great game of bowling for me. The main reason, I'm sure, is that I don't go nearly often enough, something that has changed over the years.
I do remember going as a preschooler with my parents to the bowling center in Minneapolis when they would have league night; I'd try to sit quietly and watch, but inevitably I wound up in the toddler room, coloring and playing with Play-doh.
By the time I was a second-grader I was taking bowling lessons, which I considered my own "league t ime." I wasn't an easy student -- no one really wants to teach a left-hander how to do much of anything -- but I did learn, and I did have fun. I was a decent bowler as a child, mostly because we lived just a few blocks from the mall, and it had a wonderful bowling alley in the basement. My brother and I would often "compete" for the better score; I had the advantage of age back then and could often beat him soundly. I don't even challenge him anymore.
As I got older, more and more things pulled me away from bowling; we moved a lot while I was growing up, and I spent most of my time getting to know people and finding things to do in that area. Bowling for me, now, is something I do all too rarely.
Not so for the people I talked to last week at Lancer Lanes during their Wednesday night leagues. These people bowl a lot, and have been, I'm guessing, for quite some time. Many of them played off their responses when I asked about their technique, but don't be fooled -- these people can bowl. I sat and watched as many bowlers "warmed up" and was amazed -- if this was their practice, I couldn't wait to see their game.
The best thing, though, was that I was inspired and motivated. I plan on getting back to my bowling roots, even if just once a month.
Catch up with Carly next week as she talks to people at Kirkwood's Winter Gardening Fair and finds signs of spring fever.
I'm not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal. I like lists, order and knowing what's coming down the pike. Impulsive, I'm not. That's why my husband was surprised to hear that I was going to go up in the air with pilots offering free flights Saturday at the Next Generation Air Expo at the Eastern Iowa Aiport. "It just doesn't seem like the kind of thing you'd do," he said.
He's right and that's exactly why I decided to do it. After a morning of cajoling on the part of the pilots, I decided to take them up on their offer.
So, you'd think the rest of this blog would be about the exhilerating experience of the flight. But, it's not going to be, because I waited too long and by the time I'd made up my mind, the airplane had a flat tire and wasn't going to go up again. I should have seized the opportunity while I had it.
Flight or no flight, the expo was still interesting even for me, someone who's not a would-be pilot or really all that into airplanes to begin with. The planes were a lot different than any I've flown in commercially. First of all, they're smaller. All were single engine aircrafts with the exception of one twin engine. And, each sat four or two people in the cockpit. But, I was surprised by their cush-factor. All were a lot more ooh la la than the old-school Cessnas that I'd ever flown in or had reason to be around.
As I learned Saturday that's because these are the new generation of airplanes. Pardon me for attempting to distill the history of recent flight down to what I'm about to say. But, essentially I was told that there was a period of time from the mid 1980s to 1990s when industry mainstays like Cessna, Beech and Piper (think Ford, Chevy and Chrysler) took a break from building planes and improving on technology for small aircrafts. In the interim companies like the ones displaying planes Saturday, Champion, Cirrus and Diamond, started building planes using innovative technology. For example, these are made of fiberglass and have GPS technology in the cockpit. One of the ones I sat in felt like the Ferrari of planes, leather seats, wood accents, room for four and a set of golf clubs.
Granted this isn't how I travel. But, it's tempting to dream. Want to go to dinner in Chicago. Just hop in the Champion 400 and you'll be there in an hour. Just like that. If I had the world at my fingertips like that. I'd be able to visit my family a lot more often. I'd also be able to go to Greece, Italy, Ireland, Austrailia, Hawaii -- all places I've always wanted to visit.
Read Monday's paper to see what far-flung locales were on expo-goers lists. And next week find Molly at the bowling alley, asking people about the key to bowling that perfect game.
Ah, Valentine's Day. The day has always conjured images of chocolate, flowers and good tidings.
Well, maybe not always. As a senior in college, one roommate and I were devoted singles, determined not to let the campus lovebirds have the day to themselves. We weren't bitter about being single, but didn't want those who had a "significant other" to think themselves any more special than the rest of us who were happy singles. So we dressed in black and went through campus armed with Nerf dart pistols.
A bit juvenile? Probably. But it was fun, and I don't think we actually made anyone angry. We didn't shoot at anyone we didn't think would return the darts, and it's given us a good chuckle in the years since.
Now, though, I see Valentine's Day through the eyes of my children and how, with a son and daughter, the day has been different for them every year.
Justin, now 14, was always the "let's-buy-Valentines-at-the-store-and-sign-them-the-night-before" kind of kid, picking out the Spiderman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Harry Potter Valentines until he eventually ran out of interest.
Kimberly, however, now 11, initially followed her brother's lead and opted for the store-bought Valentines; then we ran into a magazine article detailing how much fun you can have making your own Valentines for classmates. We made Valentine "fish" out of pink and red construction paper hearts one year, Valentine conversation heart cookies another year, and heart-shaped felt "suckers" that you glued actual suckers to another year. Her Valentines quickly stopped being the "leave-it-to-the-last-minute" variety.
Then, of course, came the Valentine receptacles; Justin's, not surprisingly, was usually a marker-colored paper bag -- the faster he could get it done, the better. Kimberly's was always a production: old shoebox covered in white construction paper, and then littered with cut-out hearts in varying sizes and colors. For my daughter, Valentine's Day was a week in the making.
Now the kids are older and no longer trade Valentines at school, but I still find myself looking for "just the right thing" for them every year, something I have in common with the the people I talked to at Simply Divine this week -- many talked about the "perfect" Valentine they'd either given or received, either from their kids or from their sweetheart. Each response drew an "awwww" from me, and sparked ideas for the future.
Catch Carly next week as she visits the Voice of the Drum Storytelling Festival at the African American Historical Museum and Cultural Center, where she'll be asking people to name the most influential black American.