December 18, 2010
Have I ever mentioned how much Stephen hates getting up in the morning?
I mean really hates getting up.
This morning he has an exam at 9.00 am.
I forced him out of bed at 7.45.
As expected he is crabby, cranky. . .
Next term he teaches a class at 9.00 am on Wednesday and Friday.
Keith is taking another 8.30 class.
This means that 80% of the mornings, I am going to have to deal with an angry, crotchety, downrightpissedoff someone.
Stephen because he was forced out of bed before noon.
Keith because inevitably Emily will not be out of the house on time for him to arrive to his 8.30 class on time.
I think next term I will be up and out of the house by 6.30, on the bus no less, and the rest of them can fend for themselves.
I'll mop up the blood when I get home.
Somehow, someway, I suspect because of my tenacity and ability to ignore Stephen, we made it to work this morning in time for him to invigilating his last exam.
He even had breakfast.
Not the one I made for him.
Apparently it wasn't what he wanted.
Because he is obstinate, stubborn and overall petulant, ill-tempered, peevish and irritable.
I really need to pull in some favours to prevent him from having those 9.00 am exams.
The anxiety I experience isn't worth it.
And Stephen's bodily well being wavers precariously on a thin line every time I have to get him up before noon.
Recently via Facebook my friend Jolyne posted a comment about whether sociologists can bowl.
I don't know about other sociologists, but this one certainly can.
Okay, correction, could.
I'm certain I could propel a bowling ball down a bowling lane, but I'm no longer certain if the end result could be considered bowling.
From the age of 5-18, I bowled in the YBC. . .Youth Bowling Council.
Three times I became the provincial junior womens, and then senior womens champion.
Now, before you get all excited, oooohhhhing and aaawwwing, you should know that acquiring that title didn't exactly require a lot of skill.
All I had to do what beat my competitor, who was from the only other YBC bowling house in New Brunswick.
In what used to be called Chatham.
We would drive there, or they would come here, and we would have a bowl off.
Whoever won that bowl off was the provincial champion.
This caused problems, because in larger provinces, with more youth bowling houses, those people who made it to Nationals had to bowl against several people.
Meaning they were more competitive, had a lot more practice, and competed more than we did.
My dad, one year, was in charge of the YBC for NB.
And every.single.day. after school for months, he would pick me, and the other bowlers from the highschool, and we would bowl for at least two hours.
He was making sure what we lacking in competing, we made up for in practice.
I never won any gold, silver or bronze, but during my last year competing, I did come in fourth.
But it was never about medals for me.
It was about getting out of NB and seeing what went on in the rest of the world.
A lot went on in the rest of the world. . .or at least what I saw of it.
Believe me.
I had a lot of fond memories of these trips away from home.
I have a lot of trophies sitting in my basement.
Trophies I don't know what to do with.
Stephen wants to display them.
I.
Think.
Not.
Somehow I can't see how my 1980s bowling trophies would necessarily fit into our antique like living room decorating scheme.
And there is no where in the kitchen for them to sit and collect dust.
Stephen's man cave perhaps?
I am leaning towards donating them, but to whom or where is the real issue.
I competed in 5 pin.
When we bowl now, its usually 10 pin at Kingswood, and my muscles ache the next day.
And for a couple of days after that.
But I did have a lot of fun.
Made some friends.
Later had a child.
Known as Emily.
All because of bowling.
NO!
I did not have sex in a bowling alley.
The remainder of that story will come in January, specifically on January 21st.
Title Lyric: Let's Go Bowling by the Arrogant Worms
No comments:
Post a Comment