Turns out you (okay, we) were all wrong. No cozies for mule ears, no monkey puppets, no war games (Pete … a truly disturbing image).

The socks were for those of us who are squeamish about sticking our tootsies into sweat-soaked shoes that should have been jettisoned off the planet decades ago.

That’s right … bowling!

We were divided into four teams, and Project One was designing bowling shirts. My team didn’t know a Sharpie from Shinola so we had limited graphic ability but the team came up with Super Sizzlers.

I did not contribute to the name or the performance in that I have not been in a bowling alley since I was about six years old. That was the year my father hauled me home and sent me to my room for some giant infraction of the rules (it may have involved hard candies bouncing down the lanes but that is another story).

Anyway, my team should also have sent me to my room. I certainly held the team average in the low double digits (can you have a negative bowling score?). Megan, Mylinda and Keith, I beg forgiveness. You were far nicer about it to me than I would have been to you if the challenge had been, oh say, WRITE AN ESSAY IN TWO MINUTES FLAT.

On the other hand, I have a great chance to win the Most Improved award next year. Unless, of couse, next year’s team activity involves paintballs in which case I either start all over or aim directly at this new management and let it rip.

Anyone in the Dog Patch area willing to teach this old dog new tricks? If so, bowling instructors are being hired on the back nine.