Interlude

My brother and his wife visited for the first time that Wednesday evening and joined Mother on a bowling trip. She got two strikes. Apparently body memory is stored in a different place. While she is one of the worst in her neighborhood when it comes to making sense when she speaks, she was one of the best bowlers. Memories of bowling league past came to the fore, and Rob said she was one of the only ones that actually had any form when she bowled. The others pretty much just dropped the ball and stared as it made its way lamely to the gutter.

Of course that's the way I bowl all the time...