#6 has the ball...

Against my better judgment, and at the urging of Ms. Muse, I'm leading this post with a photo taken over the weekend. We were in Palm Springs repairing, discarding and replacing stuff at my uncle's modest house. He had a lot of stuff. A whole closet, seemingly, devoted to the storage of drill bits. 

In between duties as a new Real Estate King and Lord of the Manor, I was at the Palm Springs Swim Center, quite possibly the finest aquatic facility in all the land. The Manager of the place once told me they were one of the few pools that actually had the equipment to heat and cool down the water. That's some fancy schmancy water control. He also invited me to participate in an elders "Inner Tube Water Polo Game."

And reminding myself of a pledge I made to try and experience new things, I thought why not. I enjoyed water polo in high school. It was literally the only team sport I did well in. And I like to tell myself the only sport where I wasn't picked last or next to last.

This was a little different, as I had to maneuver my way around the oversized inner tube which I swear had been lubed in advance with Saudi Arabia's finest petroleum products.

Added plus, I got to wear one of those funny water polo hats. Which for some reason or another I associate with Australia. The rest of the day I affected a poor Down Under accent as it seemed like a distinctively Aussie past time. Those people love their water. If, I mean when, the country goes Full Freidrich Fascist, I will pack my belongings and become an Aussie ex-pat. 

Note: Matt Knapp (one of the funniest and brightest guys I ever worked with), if you're reading this, I hope you have a room for me.

As it turned out, not enough folks showed up for the polo game. The pool temperature was a comfortable 79 degrees but the brisk Palm Springs winter air was a frigid 62. Brrrr.

And so my new friends Nick, Jeremy, Michael, and I did some Inner Tube Water Polo Drills and took some very satisfying shot at an empty net.

"He shoots, he scores."

As I was leaving the water, the pool manager apologized and said the low turnout was because of the Arctic temperature. As which point, I was about to reflexively and sarcastically say, "Ahhhhh, bunch of pansies."

I bit my tongue and realized as quite possibly the only cisgender male in a 50 mile radius, I probably shouldn't say or think things like that.

See, I'm even training my mind to try new things.