he drove the snakes from ireland and drank up all the whiskey
he sang a song and danced a jig he felt sae fine and frisky
an after-dinner mug of hot chocolate with kahlua is an adequate substitution for eight irish car bombs, right? if not, i am a disappointing irish girl.
i did spend all day crocheting a baby blanket for the upcoming addition to our family, and it has some green in it. and it’s a baby blanket. i’m sure many an auntie back on the aran islands spent many a st. patrick’s day knitting many a receiving blanket for many a curly-haired, pink-cheeked youth.
my father, bless his heart, was born four days after st. patrick’s day, sixty-seven years ago this week. he took patrick as his confirmation name. then he went off to vietnam and promptly abandoned his faith, and came back and married my mother, a second- or third-generation atheist.
and then came their four daughters fair. and now the next generation needs baby blankets. happy to oblige.