Strangely, my love-hate relationship with Boston can be summed up by Joni Mitchell and a children's book.

On the door to our apartment, I posted this:

"When they got to Boston, they felt too tired to fly any further...so down they flapped."

-- Robert McCloskey, "Make Way for Ducklings."

And the bar Cambridge Common, just over the river from Boston proper, has a red devil mounted on a wall by the bar. A yellowed sign above it says:

Let's have another round for the bright red devil that keeps us in this tourist town."

-- Joni Mitchell

I think a lot of young people move to Boston because it's easy, then stay because it's very easy. It's a city for suburb people. It's City Lite. So many of my friends bitch about Boston constantly, so what are we still doing here? A bright red devil is as good an explanation as any. Why did I leave and come back? Too damn tired to go anywhere else.

But sometimes, I seamlessly segue into "Love that dirty water, Boston you're my home" mode. This was a helluva fun weekend for many and varied reasons not limited to, but including: free food, local festivals, a townie bar Where Everybody Knows Your Name for real, good weather, old friends, new friends, and good beer.

And hell, how bad is Massachusetts, really? After all, I could live in Florida.