Creative Genius decided to celebrate his birthday with a party for family and friends at Oklahoma City's oldest bowling alley last Friday.
We got "our kicks on Route 66", but it was a bittersweet experience to bowl at the landmark 66 Bowl for, what may have been, the last time.
The family-owned and operated business was recently sold, and will soon be an Indian grocery store.
Alas.
At least our last memory of the place will be a happy one.
We had a really good time for a bunch of non-bowlers.
And today, as I was thinking back over the fun and conversation, I remembered a little "incident" from eight or nine years ago which had to do with bowling.
I had gone to buy some paint from Sherwin Williams (for years he was the other man in my life - until I met Benjamin Moore and Ralph Lauren).
The salesman decided to make polite small talk as he carried the paint to my car.
"So. You like to bowl?"
(What?! Who on earth starts a conversation with a question like that?)
"Um. Well. I guess. But I don't bowl very often."
"Oh. I just asked because I saw your license plate."
"What license plate?"
"The one on the front of your car."
I opened the car so he could put the paint in and went back to the front to see what he was talking about.
This is the license plate that was on the front of my car:
I'd never seen it before.
I told him so.
I also started laughing.
I told him I was sure my teenage boys had put it there as a prank.
That evening I casually asked the boys if they were busy on the coming Friday night.
"No. Why?"
"I thought maybe I could take you bowling."
"What?"
"I thought maybe you'd like to go bowling with me."
"Is there a special reason you want to take us bowling?"
"No. It's just that...you know...I love bowling."
The lights suddenly came on.
"Mom, we put that license plate on your car three months ago. You're always saying men are so oblivious to things (new haircuts, changes in the wall color, furniture rearrangement, etc.). We thought we'd see how long it took a woman to notice."
Oh, snap.