A few months ago, I joined a bowling league. Ten-pin, out in Malden, where teams of twenty-somethings fused with folks who had years (decades) of bowling know-how under their belts. Every Monday night, the teams would come together, drink Bud Lite, and otherwise try to propel large round objects down the ol’ lanes.

While it’s taken some scheduling savvy and commitment, the league has been a highlight of my week ever since. I’m the Red Sox girl, given my tradition of wearing a player t-shirt when I bowl. I’m on a team with a couple of older folks who are warm, welcoming, and…well, let’s say they’re awfully good-humored.

See, when I joined the league that first week, I threw pretty much my best games ever. Nothing to write home about, but I was pretty jazzed to walk out of there with a 114 average. I figured that, given the chance to hone the skills, I’d wind up regularly bowling 150s by the time the league came to a close (which is around now. We had our last regular night on Monday and have a bowl-off celebration event planned for Tuesday evening).

As it turns out? I think I peaked at Week One. I’m still above 100 for the average, but I learned quickly that my bowling experiences were going to be filed in the “for the love of the game” category. And that I make one fantastic bowling cheerleader.

That said, I’m now realizing that I have to come up with something to do on my Monday evenings (and, of course, that How I Met Your Mother has had the audacity to wrap up its season on my last regular bowling night. Damn you, Mosby! Just kidding. Call me, Josh Radnor). And while I’m sure I’ll enjoy the chance to, say, go running outside or head to JP to partake in some candlepin at the Milky Way, I’m actually pretty disappointed to realize that I’m not going to be high-fiving the people I’ve come to see each and every week.

Moral of the story? I’m a card-carrying member of a bowling league, and that sucker is going to be proudly on display in my wallet. That said, I’ll take it easy on folks when we battle over the ol’ ten-pin.

As long as they’re easy on me, too.