So Laura and I joined a bowling league a couple of weeks ago, almost without meaning to. Some friends of ours from our occasional trivia league have been in a low-key league for the past decade, and they invited us to come bowl with them on the most recent monthly outing. The lanes aren't far at all from our apartment, and we both love to bowl, so we said sure.

The lanes, on the second floor over a store, turned out to be so old and divey that they didn't even have automatic scoring machines. The bar was a place where even non-bowlers came to hang out. Laura and I ended up bowling on a team with a couple of very nice guys whose teammates are apparently not very reliable. (Also, I ran into the owner of a local pet-supply store where I shop, who is also in the league.) We had a great time, and we both bowled well enough (not a terribly high bar) that the two guys invited us to be on their team permanently.

We accepted. Duh.

A few days later, Laura saw an ad for an upcoming Neil Diamond concert. Knowing her mother used to like Neil Diamond, Laura called her up and asked if she might be interested in going to the concert together.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" cackled Laura's mother. "First you two join a bowling league, and now you want to go see Neil Diamond. You are officially old!"

Let that one sink in for a minute. We're being mercilessly teased by a 68-year-old woman for being old.

But we're not really old. We're just drawn that way.