this evening, as my husband recanted the history of the vernal equinox, i lamented why i didn't marry a stupid man, because, man, i feel stupid most of the time around him. though, we have a lot in common and i feel on most days, we have a pretty good thing going on here. our mutual commonality is also shared in the most holy of all celebrations, st. patrick's day. i'm glad we have a very base communication when it comes to such celebrations, because i don't feel i could stay married to a man that didn't see the relevance to such holy celebrations. yeah, that's fine and all that you know the root of vernal in the latin language but do you know who the hell st. patrick is? yes, you are sooo right! he was the maker of green beer and little leprechauns, mister! that's all you need to know in my book. do you really think i think this? well, i won't clue you in on what i really think other than, i truly love st. patrick's day. i love this holiday more than christmas! okay, so we are ALL irish on this day, but i'm soo irish with a mixture of scottish that my love of this day is not realistic and this love in turn would make any alcoholic cringe with the reality of my undying love.
with this love of the holiday, coupled with having children, the realization of being a parent of two has really put a damper on my celebrating capabilities, not that i'm complaining AGAIN about being a parent. i lament of the days of celebrating starting at 8am with green mimosas and casseroles to only outlast the fittest of the fittest with ONE MORE DRINK 15 hours later. you think i kid? than you really don't know me. partying before a wedding in st. louis to only realize, we totally missed the ceremony because the missourians know how to throw a st. patrick's day party! to call in sick when i was supposed to be at work in thirty minutes because the wheel of green beer was spinning in my favor. and no, i didn't even get fired. the luck of the irish was on my side that year.
this brings me to this year's celebration. with kids in tow and along with another a couple with the same celebrating limitations, we headed downtown to celebrate amongst all the other irish people that seemingly looked more german and hispanic than i remember leprechauns should look.
wild-eyed, crazy mary o'malley decided her gift of painting three leaved clovers on unsuspecting children with her purse on her shoulder and a mutton sandwich in the other hand was in attendance. her incoherent babble complete with the ability to lick her paintbrush before IV'ing her cooties onto the little children's cheeks gave me reason to down one more beer before thoughts of having to rush my kidlets to the ER for an antidote for scabies.
have i ever mentioned i HATE parades! i mean HATE them! i've hated them since i was five and i'll go on forever hating them until my cold dead body is underground. there better not be a parade in celebration of my death or carnations and daisies on my grave. if so, i'll haunt each and every person responsible for such malarkey!
a pic of our friends that we will have to threaten bodily harm to not leave us when they decide they've finally had enough okie time and move onto greener at least more fun pastures. not without us, you won't!!
we went home for a cat nap and resumed with green red bull and vodka. beer sooo bloats me!
i settled down for the evening in my new favorite pants that replaced my long lost loved ones.