In case you can’t tell by the picture, this is a polo match. With horses and clubs and a white ball that riders whack with said club while galloping at a pretty good clip.

I want to learn how to play polo.

Of course, I don’t have the polo pony to go along with this desire. That could be a problem with learning to play. Or at least, playing on a team. No matter. I’m not getting a horse anytime soon.

Stupid economy.

So, as you can probably guess, I went to a polo match. Me with my “Horses are wonderful! Isn’t this exciting! Let’s stomp divots!” enthusiasm. I had a great time. Doc seemed to like it too.

The kids? Maybe I shouldn’t talk about them. They were less than thrilled. Which might be good in the long run because if one of my kids got the horse-obsessed bug, I’d be bummed to tell him or her no to horse ownership. Pity it’s so expensive, these glorious animals.

I wish I had a picture of the worst of the four. The chief complainer, the boy child named for a particular Biblical king. He was King of Boredom yesterday.

Poor boy. O, to be nine and away from a computer screen! O, to be subjected to what your mother says is the Sport of Kings.

Don’t make me watch another polo match ever again, Mom! It’s so boring.

Heh.

Doc and I plotting and scheming our next visit with a proper tailgate meal. A picnic worthy of polo – not a favorite sport for one named for a king.