It's funny how you realize how neurotic your whole entire family is when you spend some time away. It's also, ironically, what makes going home so great: you fit right in, and you don't have to worry about acting "normal" anymore.
I'm not at home, but I take comfort in the fact that my Mom is probably working non-stop on her lacquer-ware [she's an artist]. She doesn't question how I'll stay up into the wee hours of the morning slouched over, embroidering a piece of cloth. Neurotic devotion loves company, I guess.
But I think anyone, even people outside my family, will agree that it's hard to get tired when you're doing something you really love. Well, until much later. Like right now. My legs are finally feeling juiced out, after doing laps from Allston to downtown, to Cambridge and back to Brighton. I don't usually ride this much, but having been introduced to this concept of "freedom," [well, until the library opens again on Monday] I was at a loss as to what to do, other than pedal, pedal, pedal. And though I'm not at home, talking with nearly all my bike friends today came close enough. Because neurotic devotion for the same exact thing is always a guaranteed good time.
First stop was at polo; I hadn't been to the court in months. And with a warmer weather, it seemed like everyone showed up. Boston's Cutest Polo Player was in attendance [I failed to get a pic], as was Boston's Hottest Polo Player [seen below].
And you know how the East Side Polo Invitational is being held here in Beantown in May? The teams coming up are going to face some stiff competition from our home teams. We're just not happy with the whole "one mallet" concept, so we figure double-fisting couldn't hurt. I mean, not as applied to polo at least.
Neurotic devotion? Probably. Are we going to own all the teams that come up for ESPI? Most definitely. Will we be the hottest players there? Yes, yes, and yes.
As I challenged the bald guy in the blue sedan who patronizingly tried to tell me to move over as I flipped him the bird on Comm Ave [which rendered him into some sputtering rage, in response to which I laughed]:
Bring it.