When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

So it's St. Patrick's Day, a day when everyone is Irish and uses it as an excuse to wear green while getting sloppy drunk on green beer and gorging themselves on corned beef and cabbage with some boiled potatoes. Weeeee! I'm Irish every day. I can't escape it. My name alone tells people of my heritage. And no, I am not going to tell you my real name.

You probably know that St. Patrick wasn't that great of a fella. He's responsible for ridding Ireland of Paganism and bringing Christianity to the masses. Think about what a different country Ireland would be today if they weren't fighting, Protestants against Catholics. They should have kept the Paganism. At least Pagans seem to prefer magic potions to car bombs. Poor, poor Celtic Druids.

So instead of celebrating some religious facist, I celebrate my family. This "holiday" always reminds me of my grandma, Marion Tierney Stockwell. She was a good Irish lass. She wouldn't like me referring to St. Patrick as a religious facist but she also didn't like us to say "Shut Up" either. Sorry grandma! My sweet Aunt Peggy slaves away making her traditional "blarney stones" which are these little cakes covered in sweet icing and rolled in peanuts. My housemate devours them (he's a fiend for all things peanut). I can't believe she bakes hundreds of those, boxes them up and mails them out to all of us. And that means I am getting mail today, and you know how I love to get mail. :)

I leave you with a traditional Irish toast: "As you slide down the banisters of life may the splinters never point the wrong way."