Today I begin my vacation. Can you hear my sigh from there?

I leave for Florida Sunday morning but I have today and tomorrow to just go easy and relax....I haven't quite gotten to the point that I can turn off my police/fire scanner, but I have turned off my work phone. I spent more time than usual with the crossword puzzle, I'm still in my jammies, and I'm relishing another cup of coffee.

There is a fabulous program at my church called The Welcome Table, which my fabulous BFF Trudy organized. The church kitchen and dining area is open every Friday from 10:30 to 2:30 for socialization and warmth. A free lunch is also served and civic groups and businesses all over town send a volunteer team each Friday to prepare and serve the food. A local church canceled at the last minute so I'm helping out there today. I great way to spend my first day, I think.

Then a bunch of us are going bowling. Doesn't that sound nerdy and so 1950s? I CAN'T WAIT! I grew up across the street from a bowling alley and we used to sneak there all the time.

I say sneak because to my parents, the bowling alley was on par with rock and roll and cigarettes - somehow the combination of those three would turn us into crazed juvenile killers who would ride around in coupes and convertibles, throwing molatav cocktails into local shops and businesses and pillaging the rest of the town.
We would abandon circle pins and box pleated skirts and white blouses with peter pan collars. No more penny loafers. Gone would be the demure "flip" hairdo, replaced by a messy beehive and heavy-handed mascara.
They expected us to cuff our ciggies in our t-shirt sleeves, roll our jeans and, o dear god, begin drag racing out at the abandoned airport runway.
They knew we would drop out of high school and eventually become that dirty, bummy person that hangs around downtown buying booze for underage kids in exchange for a pint to keep "on the hip."
We would get tattoos and have unprotected sex and end up in homes for unwed mothers.

Still, every Friday, my brother and I, and the kids across the street, Rusty and Janice, used to pretend we were tired and we would go to bed early. We then would jump out our second story windows and high tail it to the bowling alley. The boys would play pool and Janice and I would watch all the other boys. Our parents were such heavy sleepers that, hours later, we were able to just walk back in through the front door.
Of course we eventually were caught when our parents were enjoying a summer night by sitting on our and their front steps and each set of parents watched as the other set of parents' kids bailed out the window. Curtains for us.

I have to admit, though, that even now, more than 40 years later, the sound of bowling pins crashing makes my head swivel and begin searching for the hottest guy in the alley - the one with the rolled jeans and the tight white t-shirt. OMG, it's probably the janitor.

P.S. While I'm away, would all of you lurkers sign in as blog followers please? Just click on the box on the top right that says "follow this blog." It is really simple and if I get enough followers I can begin making some money from this blog through Google Ad. If you visit frequently, please sign in. It makes me feel loved and wanted. And I need the money.