This is one of the days of the year I wish I was Irish. Of the seventy-odd other nationalities that make up gene pool, the Irish is not among them. So what did I do about that. I found myself a nice Irish woman and married her. She keeps me on my toes almost every day. Just one of the many reasons why I love her. Okay, enough with the gushing. I’m starting to embarrass myself.
I’m not sure what my fascination is with the Irish. It could be the accents, the red hair, their beautiful land, the colorful folklore, or the Guinness. It could even be their entirely stereotypical portrayal in American media. Whatever the case, I’ve got my green on, tickets to see Flogging Molly (which I bought for Valentine’s Day for my wife), and trying my damnedest not to do my horrible Irish accent. Even though it seems to be deemed a drinking holiday around here, I will not be partaking. It’s Monday and I like to drive.
Another little tid-bit about today. This was when my son’s original delivery date was. Of course he waited another week before finally deciding he was ready to be birthed. That ended up putting all four of our birthdays (my wife, kids, and me) within a five week stretch. There’s also other extended family that falls within that same time frame, at least three that I can think of at the moment.
So. Have a happy St. Patrick’s Day. Try not to do anything that I wouldn’t do. Find a designated driver and have a wonderful time.
I will hopefully get back to writing this week.