#duckpin

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bowling Pin

Debut: Bowling

Yeah, Bowling! It's the pin, from Bowling! Bowling is a game, so it is fair game for this blog. And the pins are Weird Enemies! The whole point of Bowling is to Defeat as many pins as possible. You are taught to HATE them! It's messed up. I will teach you to love them.

When anthropomorphizing a bowling pin, are you on Team Face On Tip or Team Face On Base? I think both have their merits. Tip is good for if you want to give it a humanoid impression, like it could walk up to you and shake your hand. Hug you. Even... kiss you?! Base, however, is more of a creature, which I imagine waddling around on a bunch of legs or tentacles emerging from the bottom. It would hobble up to you and ask you, "Gleep gwanorb?" Answer carefully, or it might aim its Space Ray Gun at you! In the base design, the tip of the pin could be an antenna, or it could be read as a long-haired creature that tied its hair up in a tall bun!

You know something messed up? There are more types of bowling pins! No one ever told me that! The classic one we all default to is the Ten-pin, but there are two others! We'll get to them. Biologically, a Ten-pin must abide to the specific standards set by the United States Bowling Congress, adopted by World Bowling. They MUST be 15 inches (380 mm) tall, 4.75 inches (121 mm) wide at their widest point, and weigh 3 pounds and 8 ounces (1.6 kg), give or take 2 ounces (.057 kg). Wow! These would be some unrealistic standards to live up to, if these were not chunks of carved and coated wood produced specifically to match up to these measurements.

The reason the different pins are pictured with different balls is that they are used in different variations of the game! Candlepin is pretty self-explanatory. It's shaped like a candle. But Duckpin? That looks like a smaller, cuter, more marketable Ten-pin. What's its deal?

My first thought was, it's called a Duckpin because it looks like a duck! It has the one red line like the ring around a male mallard's neck, and it is rather shaped like a duck as seen from the front, overall! How cute! In reality, they are called Duckpins because the way they scatter when hit reminded a duck hunter of a scattering duck flock. Always comes back to violence with poor little Bowling Pin. They have it so rough! They could really use a friend, who's always there to pick them up when they're down.

Name: Pinsetter

Debut: Bowling

Pinsetter is just the sort of friend a Bowling Pin needs! No matter how many times Pin is knocked down, Pinsetter will be there to pick it up and put it back in its deserving spot. If any mean ol' stray Bowling Balls try to land a cheap hit, Pinsetter's sweep bar will block them. Play fair, you bully ball! Pinsetter's job used to be done by human Pin Boys, but there can still be a human in the mix, making sure the machine is clean, and unjamming it if need be. I can only assume this beautiful relationship between human and machine is just like that of horse and rider.

The more I think about it, though, is Pinsetter really helping? It's just putting the pins back in harm's way every single time, facilitating their unending torment. It blocks incoming balls, but only briefly, allowing them to crash through the pins as soon as they're all reset. Why does it do this? Who does it work for? Who is sending all these balls?!

...It's Pinsetter.

Pinsetter does not only set the pins. It detects the score, encouraging players to hit as many pins as possible. It returns the balls, giving them the weapons to do so. Humans think they're playing a game, but Pinsetter is playing them all! It controls the whole operation, driven by nothing but pin bloodlust! Maybe Bowling Ball has been misunderstood, another tortured soul, an unwilling pawn in Pinsetter's twisted game!

Bowling Pins are beautiful creatures. They belong in the wild, or with trustworthy, knowledgeable caretakers. To bowlers, they are an Enemy. To me, they are a Friend.

[cittyinthecloud]

Duckpin bowling balls are begging to be pitched I swear.

[themanyadventures0fknb]

Duck Pin Lanes Danbury, CT.

🎳

[leodio313]

beware of duckwin duck.

[mitkitty]

Btw I watched the Holdovers last night and as someone who used to spend every christmas in Boston i was getting pummeled with psychic damage. One of the houses they walked past reminded me strongly of my grandpas house in Somerville

When they started duckpin bowling i kinda lost it, oh my gah

[loveadorabella]

There are some shenanigans and trickery about to go down here. AND they did !!! “What’s that gutter board ball trick” #fellspoint #duckpins #patternsonbowlingcenter (at Fells Point Harbour) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd0kKViOvLZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

When I was little I went bowling for a classmate's birthday and the warning sign on the machine with the bowling balls scared me so badly I didn't do any bowling. It was the one where the fingers are cut my the machine or something

My bowling alley has those, too!

It’s a duckpin place, and they make their own machines, so that’s even cooler.

[struggling-to-be-healthy]

I threw the best spooky bachelorette party I could have for Lace last night. We had so much fun. We went out to dinner at this brewery that used to be a church. The food was amazing. Then we went to a place called Pins Mechanical to drink and play duckpin bowling.

I'm currently broke, but it was worth it to see Lace have a great time!

[cheapcheapfaker]

-red wine in a nearly comically oversized glass, rounded, with a long stem. Buttery and dark and rich. Smells earthen, heady, dank, heats up your belly upon first sip. I still have not learned the name of my favorite type of red and some waiters get it right and some get it wrong, but it’s on me for never remembering.

-a vino verde very crisp and cold. The glass is sweating even without ice in it. Smells like summer, sharp, a little sour, but drinks smooth and dry w no burn.

-margarita on the rocks, not too sweet, not sour, made w a nice enough tequila that you can feel the burn but it doesn’t make your eyes water. The rim is salty and spicy. in an oversized rocks glass w a flat bottom, not one of those terrible flanged margarita ones. There’s a fat juicy lime wedge on the lip that i bite into and the bar is so nice i know they washed the limes. If it’s flavored, it’s coconut.

-a dark porter ale, mid-ABV. Made w lactose for that silky smooth mouth feel. Smells dark and rich and tastes like a stout w some sort of dessert undertone: chocolate, coffee, peanut butter, etc. Probably a left hand brewing nitro, because the cookies and cream cask-conditioned ale from the wharf rat is a beautiful, never again attainable memory. Just shy of room temp w a buttery white head in an ale glass w a slight lip.

-a blue moon with a big fat slice of orange, preferably while out eating outside on a warm but not humid summer’s night, or on our roof deck w a beautiful breeze

-a cuba libre. Mexican coke or a very carbonated syrupy fountain coke, spiced rum (sailor jaja preferred), fresh lime juice. Good crunchy ice.

-orange crush. Freshly squeezed orange from one of those hand presses. The bartender who squeezes my orange is an incredibly buff lady with gorgeous arms. There’s some pulp. good crunchy ice.

-a natty boh, heavily sweating, the rim tasting of old bay from picking crabs

-verde’s aperol shandy: orange duckpin, fresh orange juice, aperol, over a pizza that is delicious but too expensive for how little ricotta they give me, but i forgive them bc the shandy is so good

-a sip of my husbands old fashioned. He says it is either good, which means I’ll hate it, or that I’ll like it, and it’s passable. I never order them. I dont really like them. I just want to take a sip.

-an IPA, citra & mosaic hops, 8% abv, some sort of citrus fruit undertones that you only notice when you exhale

-the first pumpkin beer of fall. IPA or a non-sweet wheat. cinnamon, clove, not too heavily seasoned so it’s still crisp and refreshing, gorgeous autumn color with a nice throat burn

[radicarian]

I dreamed that I had to beat Ganondorf at a game called “badger.” Badger was an ancient and venerable tradition requiring great skill and finesse. You set up ten pins as in duckpin bowling. You then face away from them and let go of your bowling ball on the backswing, trying to hurl it backwards into the pins. Unsurprisingly, the noble sport of badger was also known for huge amounts of collateral damage.

[freebooter4ever]

did you know rubber band duckpins were invented in pittsburgh?

[couldntbedamned]

Baby, You Don’t Gotta Fight - 7

Summary:  Dr. Christine Palmer is just living her life, content in her job as a trauma surgeon and happily moonlighting as Peter Parker's general physician at her old friend Stephen's request.

One evening as she finishes up examining Peter, she encounters the force of nature that's Sharon Carter, who seems to have a reckless streak a mile wide.

She's not sure what to make of the spy-turned-Avenger, but she can tell Sharon's hurting, and Christine's healing nature won't be ignored.

AO3 Tags/Warnings:   Background Relationships, Awesome Christine Palmer, Snarky Sharon Carter, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Blood and Injury, Medical Procedures, Field Medicine, Sharon Carter Needs a Hug, SHIELD-critical, mild (non-explicit) sexual content, Sharon Carter Loves Burgers, emotional constipation, ethics

<<<>>>

Chapter 7

<<<>>>

“Dr. Palmer seemed nice,” Bucky said. He was looking inside her refrigerator intently, as if he could actually will something he wanted to drink into existence.

“She’s alright,” Sharon said noncommittally. She was still annoyed with Bucky for driving her to the fucking hospital instead of just dropping her off at her Brownstone like she’d requested. And she was annoyed with him for even weaseling his way into her mission to begin with.

“She wasn’t fazed by the fact that you didn’t look like you.”

“I wasn’t me,” Sharon reminded him. “I was Delia Unwin.”

Bucky joined her in the living room with two cans of grape soda. “Freelance interior designer, right?”

“Born and raised in Hamko River, Missouri,” she confirmed, taking a can from him and popping it open. “Enjoys duckpin bowling, local bar trivia nights, and macramé.”

Bucky shook his head with a grin. “I have no idea how you think up these covers.”

She shrugged. “Once you’ve realized that being who you actually want to be isn't in the cards, it’s easy to dream up all the people you wish could have been.”

His easy grin faded. “How young were you?”

She didn’t like how easy it was for him to read her. Fuck, Agent Hand would have her running sprints after waterboarding for hours if she was still around to see this. “What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes, popped his own can open, and took a drink. “How young were you when SHIELD set its sights on you?”

“You make it sound so ominous,” she drawled. She didn’t want to talk about this with him. Or anyone. What good would it even do?

“Isn’t it?” He challenged. “I had a front-row seat to just how messed up SHIELD really was whenever Hydra had me off ice. So did Ava.” He settled his gaze on her. “If there is anyone on this team who could understand your history with SHIELD, it’s us.”

“It’s not that deep, Barnes,” she said. “What would have I done otherwise? Taken up dancing instead of martial arts? Spent summer breaks and my time after school playing softball and soccer instead of going to shooting ranges and being drilled in foreign languages?”

“Good questions,” he said. “It’s a shame you never got to find out.”

“Look, if you’re going to keep nagging me about this you can go back to the Compound and the other heroes.” She’d been stabbed - again. All she wanted to do was throw back some vodka and sleep the emerging pain from her wound away.

“You belong there, too,” he said.

She snorted. “Please. The hero gig is still bullshit. I just stick around because otherwise Ross will start panting after me.”

“Which one?” Barnes asked.

“Both,” she admitted. “One’s an egocentric blowhard and the other is just… he's squirrelly.”

“Anyone else got eyes for you?”

“Nope,” she said. She wasn't even lying. Christine had made herself clear, hadn't she?

“Not even Dr. Palmer?”

She looked up sharply and saw his smug expression. The pain medication from the hospital had to still be in her system, that was the only explanation for why she'd been caught slipping.

“It wouldn't matter if she was interested in me. I’m a patient. She’d be violating an ethical code or something.”

“Is she the one who patched you up after your last suicide mission?” he asked.

She sat up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My last suicide mission happened to be when I stole that goddamned shield and wing pack.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Barnes said. He set his empty can on the table. “Look, I’ll tell Sam and Rhodey that you’re off for the rest of the week. I’ll keep the details about the mission to myself, since it’s really none of their business and I don’t think they’ll understand.” He paused, corrected. “I don’t think Rhodey will understand.”

“Why are you helping me?” She asked. She’d been something of a bitch to him in Madripoor, but once she’d gotten her pardon and been accepted onto the Avengers roster, he’d been surprisingly nice to her, if annoyingly protective.

“Taking care of reckless blond punks who don’t know how to stay out of a fight just seems to be my thing,” he said with a shrug. “Makes life interesting. Rest up, okay? I’ll see myself out.” He gave her shoulder an awkward pat and left.

Alone with her own thoughts, she barely resisted the urge to bury her face in one of her throw pillows and scream.

Okay.

She was still free of Hydra, free of Nick Fury, and more or less free of the pain her idealistic virtues had wrought when she'd placed her trust in a man who in the end turned out to be nothing other than a mere man, no more special or worthy than any other.

And if that man's best friend had also been abandoned and felt the need to keep an eye on her, well, there were worse things.

A week later, she was interrupted from her reading from a tone she almost never heard. More curious than annoyed, she checked her phone.

Good afternoon. Please stop by the Sanctum this evening.

Sharon frowned at the message from Stephen.

Why?

Because I told you to.

She bristled at that. Just who the fuck did Stephen Strange think he was? And what gave him the right to boss her around?

I can just make you stop by.

Well, fuck. That was true. And at least he’d gone through the facsimile of a request.

Fine

Lighten up, Francis.

Nice Stripes reference.

I figured you were someone who also has excellent taste.

I’ll be there around 6. That work for you?

That will do nicely.

Great. Now she had plans. She didn’t want to have to worry about anything, since tomorrow would be an early morning as Sam and Rhodey had decided a team training session was necessary. Necessary, her ass.

It could be worse, she supposed. It could be Barnes annoying her into another unnecessary trip to the hospital. Instead it was just a trip to the Sanctum because Strange had a hair up his ass. With any luck he’d portal her home when they were finished and she could rest up before attending the grueling (though not on the level of Agent Hand) training session. Then it would be time to dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge her way through Sam and Rhodey’s insistence that she stay on-site.

It was becoming a more appealing thought, if she were being honest with herself.

Her address was too easy for Christine to find. Not that she thought Christine would try and find her. There would be no reason, after all. Christine was the doctor, Sharon was the patient, and she’d be damned if she let another pretty face lead her on again only to attempt to chip her heart.

Weeks later and Sharon still wasn’t over it.

They’d been connecting, had each been obviously into each other. Sharon had shared the Lucky 10-3 with her! Sharon didn’t share her burger secrets with just anyone!

Another tone from her phone had her rolling her eyes. She hit ignore, sending any message from Fury to the bottom of the list. She'd served her time and she was done. His spyfullness would just have to find another sad soul to do his dirty work. Maybe he could ask one of those fucking Skrulls he was so fond of…

Then her phone rang. Annoyed, she answered.

“What do you want, Nick?”

“I have a mission for you,” he said.

“I'm fresh out of free time at the moment.”

“Listen, Cart-”

“Sharon. My name is Sharon.”

“Okay, Sharon, I understand that your time in Madripoor was less than ideal, but you did solid work that's going to help to keep our world safe for decades to come.”

“Yes, I did. And I'm done with it. Find another Power Broker.”

“I have. This is different.”

“I'm still not interested.”

“You know, your great aunt and SO would both be disappointed in your refusal to help.”

“Both Peggy and Hand are dead, so I don't really give a damn what they'd think. I told you, Nick, I'm done. Find someone else, because I'm not going to risk endangering the Avengers by moonlighting as your little errand girl.”

“The Avengers Initiative was my idea, you know.”

“Oh, I know. But now we're independent and don't have much use for someone who can't even bring himself to tell us the truth.”

“The truth gets people killed.”

“Funnily enough, so do lies.”

She hung up and, even knowing it was just a temporary solution because Nick Fury had his ways, blocked his number.

It was almost as satisfying as ignoring the Colonel.

The Sanctum cut an impressive, imposing figure on Bleecker Street to those who actually noticed it.

Sharon hadn't noticed it until the Battle of New York back in 2012. 

She'd been busy helping evacuate civilians and looked up to see an ethereal woman battling off the invading aliens with ease.

Magic really is real, she thought. Suck it, Hand!

She'd made researching the Sanctum her own little personal project, kept hidden from even the invasive gaze of Agent Hand. She'd uncovered enough to the point where that woman had shown up at Sharon's table during a lunch break one day.

“Good afternoon, Miss Carter,” the woman had said pleasantly after ordering a cup of tea. (Sharon hadn't known that little bistro even had tea!)

“Is it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

The woman smiled. “Indeed, it is. It is always good to meet a fan. You've been quite diligent in learning about my humble home.”

“I've seen incredible things,” Sharon admitted. “But seeing actual magic, proof that it's real? That's life changing.” She ate a fry, considered.

“Life-changing is certainly a fine way to describe the Mystic Arts,” the woman agreed.

“So, you're what, some kind of witch?”

The woman laughed, accepted the cup of steaming tea. “I serve as the Sorcerer Supreme of this dimension and am but a humble practitioner of the Mystic Arts. I am called the Ancient One.”

“And here I was about to call you Claire or something,” Sharon said with a smile.

“You have such a determination to do the right thing,” the Ancient One said. “And so much sorrow lies ahead of you.”

“Read my cards, did you?” Sharon asked, her smile fading.

The Ancient One tapped the amulet that hung around her neck. “Protecting our reality sometimes requires glimpsing into the future. It's not a task I enjoy, but the life I lead is one of service, Sharon. I tell you this because your fate cannot be changed, I'm afraid.”

“Was I even meant to see you that day during the battle?”

“Your discovery of my fighting the Chitauri was a fixed point in time. There aren't many such points, but they are absolute. I do regret the pain that it will cause you.”

“It's going to kill me?”

The Ancient One smiled sadly. “I'm afraid it will not. You have a hard path ahead, but you will emerge so much stronger than you can imagine, and you will join others who are just as extraordinary and with them, save this reality from horrors very few could ever imagine.”

“And if I say no?” Sharon asked. This had to be a trick, some way of scaring her off the digging she'd been doing into magic and 177A Bleecker Street. There was no way she - Sharon Carter - had any kind of destiny other than an agent for SHIELD. It was all she was good for, Hand is always assuring her of that, of how she’ll never live up to the impeccable standards set by SHIELD founders Margaret Carter and Howard Stark.

The Ancient One’s eyes danced, the same beautiful blue as the robes she wore. “The path will choose you, Sharon. One way or another it always does. Now, I must leave you and return to Bleecker Street. There is a man who has lost much and seeks my help. I do apologize for this.”

Before Sharon could protest or ask why, the Ancient One’s cool palm pressed against her forehead and Sharon's world went black.

It had been many years before she remembered that conversation, what she'd once learned. Not until that day when she'd been stabbed and at a loss of where to go for help. 177A Bleecker Street, her mind had whispered, and she'd gone.

Now she stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the front doors, frowning.

Calling her path hard had been a fucking understatement on the Ancient One’s part. It had been torture, degrading, and soul-destroying. The only thing extraordinary about her was the damage she'd endured and dealt.

There was a sound of sparks and before she could roll her eyes, Sharon was inside the Sanctum, face to face with Stephen.

“Generally, coming inside is more helpful,” he said, leading her to a sitting room and motioning for her to take a seat.

“I was just thinking about the first time I saw this place, back during the Battle of New York. Whatever happened to her?”

“Her?” Stephen asked, handing her a glass of ice-cold grape soda - her favorite.

“The Ancient One,” Sharon answered. She took a sip and her eyes closed in pleasure. “I'd like to ask her why she wiped my damned memory all those years ago.”

Stephen sat back, gaze probing. “You met the Ancient One?”

“Back in late 2012, yes,” she confirmed. “I was kind of obsessed with learning about this place after I saw her fighting off aliens with magic during the battle.”

She answered his questions, unable to get a read on him that didn't immediately contradict itself.

“And you didn't remember until that day you showed up here, looking for help?”

“Nope.”

Finally, he snorted, shook his head. “Typical of her,” he said. “She never did like giving straight answers when she could be all mysterious instead.”

“She's gone?”

Stephen nodded. “There was a former student at Kamar-Taj who had turned away from what we consider the natural order. In his grief, he allowed his mind to be warped by the promises of a dark entity known as Dormammu. He stole pages from a tome concerning a forbidden ritual meant to summon Dormammu and allow him access to this dimension, killing the former librarian in the process. He started attacking the Sanctums and when the Ancient One came to confront him, he pushed her to her death. I took her to the hospital, and Christine and Dr. West did their best, but it was her time. That's what she told me, at least. We had quite the conversation in our astral forms before she let go."

"Then I guess I'll never know why she did it," Sharon finally said. "Unless she thought I'd run in order to avoid the future she said I had coming."

Conjuring a cup of tea for himself, Stephen frowned. "What future?"

Sharon let out a harsh laugh. "A hard future, a painful one. One that started because of a fixed point in time, which according to her, was my seeing her fighting during the Battle of New York."

"It came to pass?" Stephen asked.

Sharon thought back on her life since that battle, since she came to from apparently falling asleep in that bistro only to be woken by a concerned waitress. The horrible truth about SHIELD had shaken her to her core and the blows only seemed to keep coming. Her time with the CIA task force hadn't been overly painful, but it had put her back in the sights of Steve Rogers. Then she'd taken a leap of what revealed itself to be extremely misplaced faith and... and she'd paid for it with blood, tears, and what she is sure was a part of her very soul.

"Yeah. It uh, it definitely did."

“I’m sorry for that,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I’m still breathing, aren’t I?” she asked, more out of reflex than anything else.

“The world has been very cruel to you,” he said after a moment spent studying her. “To the point where you don’t believe you rate even basic human kindness.”

“I don’t,” she said. “And if you knew anything about the things I’ve done, you’d agree.”

“You seem awfully sure in predicting how I’ll act,” Stephen said with something resembling a smug smile. “You are a talented spy, possibly one of the most dangerous in the world, Sharon. But I promise you, as much as you think you can read me, you can’t. I’ve lived for thousands of years.”

“Of course,” she agreed easily. Partly because he was right and partly because she didn’t. want. to. be. here. “Why am I here, beyond because you wanted me here?”

He sipped his tea, continued observing her. Once he finished, he set the cup in its saucer and sent it away to some mystical arts kitchen or another.

“I asked you to stop by so that I could ask a favor of you regarding Christine.”

Sharon felt her brows furrow. “And that is that?”

“Don’t give up on her.”

<<<>>>

[gretavanintenselyunhinged]

Duckpin bowling in the same place as Greta is so wholesome

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] Competitors to grow to be Austin’s subsequent scorching neighborhood is all the time fierce, however in 2015, St. Elmo appeared prepared to grab the crown. About three miles south of Woman Hen Lake, St. Elmo was well-positioned between downtown Austin and the booming suburbs to the south. It blended cutesy previous houses with shabby-chic warehouses prepared for conversion into inventive places of work and breweries. By way of a mixture of improvement and conversions, builders noticed a technique to construct a vacation spot neighborhood on these sturdy bones.  The centerpiece could be St. Elmo Public Market. GroundFloor Improvement, together with companions together with Carlin Firm and Fenix International Investments, deliberate to construct a 42,000-square-foot bazaar at 4329 South Congress Avenue, modeled after Seattle’s Pike Place Market.  It promised to deliver an all-star lineup of native eating places to the center of a large mixed-use improvement with resort, workplace and residential house. It will be a catalyst, the kind of place that establishes a neighborhood and spurs much more improvement round it.  However after the builders introduced the market in 2015, they delayed it. Then they delayed it once more and once more. Between 2016 and 2019, furthermore, the principals of GroundFloor had been embroiled in a lawsuit accusing one another of wrongful termination and embezzlement, respectively. By 2019, all of the related events had settled, simply in time for the pandemic to throw markets right into a tailspin.  There comes a time in each gentrifying neighborhood’s life when it will get an arcade bar. (Williamsburg, Brooklyn opened a Barcade in 2004. Pilsen, a classy Chicago neighborhood, fought towards a Headquarters Beercade in 2021.) After eight years of hype, that point has come for St. Elmo.  Actual property funding agency SomeraRoad purchased the constructing final yr and leased it to a duckpin bowling bar.  Whereas not the neighborhood anchor that the general public market might have been, this bar is nonetheless a step ahead for the neighborhood’s retail and eating scene. It’s a part of a a lot bigger push by builders who've land banked and plans underway to lastly flip St. Elmo into a real live-work–play neighborhood, after practically a decade within the highlight. St. Elmo’s dominant improvement is the Yard. It’s a sprawling assortment of warehouses totaling 200,000 sq. toes of producing and retail house. The tenant combine leans bubbly: in a single strip, tenants embody the Austin Vineyard, Austin Cocktails, Blue Norther Exhausting Seltzer, Texas Saké Firm, Nonetheless Austin Whiskey and St. Elmo Brewing Firm.  Nonetheless, the Yard has loads of non-alcoholic tenants. Icon, the development expertise firm main the best way in 3D-printed houses, relies out of an enormous constructing there and operates a analysis and improvement unit there too. There’s additionally a health club, a espresso roaster and a flock of meals vans.  The Yard was developed by Veloway Threads, an organization based by Adam Zimmerman and Merrick and Scott Ungar. It's maybe the biggest proprietor of St. Elmo improvement websites. In January, the corporate introduced that it had bought fourteen properties within the space within the final yr.  Priscilla Sauceda, an operations government with the developer, stated it was drawn to the neighborhood’s flexibility and the “character and attraction” of the warehouses.  “We examine the final word imaginative and prescient to Wynwood in Miami,” Sauceda stated, referring to the colourful, mural-laden neighborhood recognized for its galleries and purchasing.  The corporate has not performed a lot ground-up residential improvement, and is essentially centered on industrial work. It might promote or deliver on a companion to develop some land it owns that's mixed-use residential, in keeping with Sauceda.  For all the event of the Yard, a lot of St. Elmo nonetheless feels industrial, not warehouse-chic. 

“There’s been a bit of little bit of a stutter-start feeling, for those who ask the common individual in regards to the space,” Sauceda stated. “There are some individuals who nonetheless don’t know what a part of city that is in.” However Veloway Threads expects that to alter quickly. The corporate plans to complete out its imaginative and prescient for the neighborhood inside the subsequent 5 years.  One of many greatest tasks set to alter that id is the Bergstrom Spur Path, which can pedestrianize 6.5 miles of former railroad connecting South Congress Avenue to Austin Bergstrom Airport.  A stretch of that path will run immediately alongside the north finish of St. Elmo close to Industrial Boulevard, significantly bettering the walkability and improvement worth of a stretch of warehouses owned by Connecticut and Austin-based Leifer Properties.  “It has the bones to be a walkable neighborhood,” stated Max Leifer, a principal on the agency. “We like that it type of has confined geographic borders, and might’t actually sprawl out.” In contrast to different neighborhoods in Austin which have constantly sprawled, St. Elmo is penned in by Freeway 290, Interstate 35 and South Congress Avenue, encouraging builders to construct up slightly than out.  As Austin grows, some metropolis officers and activists are pushing for larger density, to blended success. With citywide reforms slowed down in course of, builders have moved to implement a few of those self same urbanist ideas on a neighborhood-by-neighborhood foundation. These tasks, just like the Area in north Austin, have highlighted a extra scattered strategy to density. “Town has grown a lot that not everyone needs to go all the best way into downtown anymore,” Sauceda stated. “So how can we create these hubs and little pockets elsewhere within the metropolis that cater to the oldsters which might be positioned nearer to these areas?” Leifer is within the technique of securing rezonings for warehouses it owns at 300-440 Industrial Boulevard and 560-600 Industrial Boulevard. It plans mixed-use developments with as much as 1,000 residences, retail house and places of work, Leifer stated. On the identical time, Redcar Properties is working to attain a mixed-use rezoning for a small purchasing middle it owns at 4201 South Congress Avenue.  Exterior of some notable house buildings, a lot of the housing within the St. Elmo space is single-family indifferent houses.  That's altering, albeit slower than some envisioned. Bishop Momo, United Properties’ multifamily improvement at 4341 South Congress Avenue, will deliver 274 residences to the neighborhood when it’s completed later this yr. It joins a handful of different house buildings on the South Congress aspect of the neighborhood, together with 44 South and Congress Lofts. “The neighborhood was virtually constructed on what would have been the general public market,” Leifer stated, noting it’s one of many causes his agency began shopping for there. Regardless of the lack of that venture, he nonetheless sees modifications coming.  “In only one or two years, the neighborhood goes to be solely totally different.” Learn extra [ad_2] Supply hyperlink

[gktravel]

Top 5 of the Oldest Bowling Alleys in the US

America's cultural fabric has been knitted with the timeless game of bowling, which dates back centuries. Entering the oldest bowling lanes in the nation is more than just a fun pastime—it's a trip back in time that offers an insight into how a sport that has captivated people for decades has developed. These alleys are living testaments to the ongoing appeal and sense of community that bowling has in America, with its worn lanes and antique charm. Every alley has a different narrative to tell; some are as old as Milwaukee, Wisconsin's ancient lanes, where strikes have echoed since 1908, while others are as transatlantic as Dublin, Ohio's Stillorgan Bowling Alley, which dates back to 1909. The history of bowling is further woven together by Pleasant Recreation, which was founded in Middletown, Connecticut, in 1912, and Smyrna Bowling Center, which has been serving the community in Tennessee since 1957. The Action Duckpin Bowl in the Fountain Square Theatre Building in Indianapolis, Indiana, takes bowlers to a bygone age with its Roaring Twenties flare.

We travel through these alleys in this investigation, not just as places to roll a ball but also as windows into the past, where each frame narrates a tale and each pin bears the weight of decades' worth of bowling history in America. Come explore the history and legends of the nation's oldest bowling lanes, where every throw carries the echo of ages gone by.

Here are some of the oldest bowling alleys in the US.

1. Milwaukee, Wisconsin's Holler House: A Historic Bowling Haven: Having been in operation since 1908, Milwaukee, Wisconsin's Holler House is claiming to be the country's oldest bowling alley. Entering Holler House is like going back in time because of its charming pathways and genuine ambiance, which take guests back to the early 20th century. The original two-lane configuration, with manual pinsetting and real timber lanes, is still in place at this location. Holler House is more than just a bowling alley—it's a living museum of American bowling history, with decades' worth of memorabilia adorning its walls.

2. Stillorgan Bowling Alley: A Transatlantic Bowling Gem located in Stillorgan, Dublin, Ohio: One of the oldest bowling alleys in the United States, Stillorgan Bowling Alley in Dublin, Ohio, was established in 1909 and is a transatlantic gem. Having served as a speakeasy during Prohibition, Stillorgan has a rich history and still provides a distinctive, retro bowling experience. Six antique hardwood lanes with manual pinsetting systems are proudly displayed at the establishment. For bowling aficionados looking for a true flavour of the past, Stillorgan Bowling Alley is a time capsule due to its nostalgic atmosphere and the reverberations of innumerable strikes and spares throughout the years.

3. Middletown, Connecticut's Pleasant Recreation: A Century-Old Tradition of Bowling: Since its founding in 1912, Pleasant Recreation in Middletown, Connecticut, has been a staple of the community's bowling scene. Pleasant Recreation, which includes six duckpin bowling lanes, has withstood the test of time by offering generations of bowlers a traditional and cozy bowling experience. A different take on the classic game, duckpin bowling uses smaller pins and balls, giving it a distinctive feel. With its old-fashioned elegance, manual scoring, and well-used lanes, the alley takes visitors on a nostalgic trip through American bowling history.

4. Smyrna Bowling Center: A Community Center Serving Smyrna, Tennessee, since 1957: Smyrna Bowling Center in Smyrna, Tennessee, opened its doors in 1957 and has been a community center ever since, while not as old as some of its competitors. This bowling alley has been an integral part of the town's social fiber for more than 60 years. Originally offering only standard ten-pin bowling, the center gradually grew to provide leagues, cosmic bowling, and contemporary facilities. Smyrna Bowling Center is rooted in its heritage even in the face of change, giving it a sentimental haven for anyone interested in both the modern and traditional facets of American bowling history.

5. Indianapolis, Indiana's Fountain Square Theatre Building: Bowling with a Roaring Twenties Flair: Action Duckpin Bowl is housed in the 1928-erected Fountain Square Theatre Building in Indianapolis, Indiana, a historic site. The Action Duckpin Bowl in this exquisitely renovated location perfectly depicts the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, even though duckpin bowling itself dates back to the late 19th century. The four original duckpin lanes take bowlers to a bygone era of jazz and flapper fashions with their manual pinsetting and antique décor. In addition to maintaining its historical splendour, the Fountain Square Theatre Building offers a distinctive bowling experience that honours the dynamism of 1920s culture.

In summary, the nation's oldest bowling lanes are still in operation today, serving as living tributes to the sport's timeless appeal throughout American history. From the modest lanes of Milwaukee, Wisconsin's 1908 Holler House, to the Roaring Twenties atmosphere of Indianapolis' Action Duckpin Bowl at the Fountain Square Theatre Building, these bowling alleys offer more than just a fun diversion—they take you on a journey through the evolution of bowling culture.

Bowlers participate in a communion with the past when they step onto the antique lanes at Smyrna Bowling Center in Tennessee, Pleasant Recreation in Middletown, Connecticut, and Stillorgan Bowling Alley in Dublin, Ohio. Each pin resonates with the spirit of generations before. These bowling alleys are more than just places to hang out; they're like little time capsules that hold onto the friendships, customs, and pure joy of bowling.

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[thedivinemsem]

Todays ornament is sentimental for a few reasons. First its because I learned to bowl as a child - duckpins, then tenpins, and even candlepins when I visited my grandmother in New Hampshire. She's the one who sent me this ornament more than thirty years ago, and up until a few years ago I was still bowling in a league. This ornament reminds me of her and it also reminds me of all the friends I competed with and against over the years, some of whom are no longer on this earth.....but I'll never forget them and the good times we had.