punkin even made a spare

i get really bogged down with depression, such that i can't enjoy things even when they are fun. i haven't been on medication for ten years, but there are times i am functioning just like i was still on medication. no lows, but no highs, either. so that times that i enjoy, the times that i can really say i had fun, are few and far between.

my company had an outing this afternoon. we went bowling.

i fell in love with bowling when i was in college. i went to Iowa State (who coincidentally beat the crappy UNLV Rebels today!) which is in the state of Iowa (can't you tell i got a B.S. degree?), where they had a can law. (Law? whatever, there was a 5 cent deposit on cans and bottles). most students would save up their empties, hitch a ride to the grocery store for redemption, and pocket a little cash. At a nickel a time, it was literally a little cash. but it didn't take long to save up enough to go bowling at the MU (Memorial Union). i'm sure a game was less than a dollar. (remember, this was over twenty years ago. yikes, i'm getting old.) anyway, i remember counting coins, just to play another game, in effort to break 100. once i did, there was no looking back.

i bowled in leagues a couple times. for someone with such low self esteem to say i'm pretty good says a lot. i've had some great games. but i moved, and didn't know anyone to get into a league, or didn't want to commit to the time, or insert excuse here. so i end up bowling once or twice a year.

oh, i've got my own ball. it was my mother's. it has her name on it (the Peggy ball!) i also inherited her bowling shoes and bag. i am nearly positive they are older than me, circa early 60's. antiques, and they're kind of cool.

i got to share my love for bowling with the punkin! at 20 months, he was too small for rental shoes, and i had to get him the smallest ball from behind the counter. (i guess people steal 6-pound bowling balls?) he couldn't really hold the ball, and he fouled a couple times, but he got excited to run up the lane and push the ball (between the bumpers, of course). sometimes he'd watch the ball go down the alley, and sometimes he'd just run back to his seat for another bite of pizza, but he was doing it with enthusiasm. he smiled, and laughed, and clapped.

that's what i want for my kid. i don't care if he's an athlete, an artist, or an astronaut. i just want him to enjoy whatever he chooses to do, and find that enjoyment much more frequently than i do.