I forgot it was St. Patrick's day until I stepped outside this morning and saw the Paddy O'Furniture. Okay, that's an old joke but I say it every year. It's tradition.
Here are wild shamrocks growing in my yard today. Please do not call them weeds.
Below are cultured giant shamrocks complete with little white flowers that I have babied and grown in a large flower pot for years and years. Bet you didn't know that they bloom.
I'm cooking corned beef and cabbage with onions, carrots and redskin potatoes for supper. No soda bread though for I don't care for it.
Yes, I really have kissed the Blarney Stone.
Aye. In person.
Time for a beer!
Slainte.
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2 comments:
I would have paid GOOD money to see you kiss the Blarney Stone, don't you have to bend over backwards? while someone holds your feet? ..... somehow, I don't see you as the bending over backwards kind of gal!
annie p
Oh, I have proof in hard copy pictures. I will have to find them and post scans. Remind me, please.
Indeed, you must lay on yer back and have an Irishman hold you over a several story, open air drop while you lean over the gap and turn your chin upside down to get the gift of gab. Yes, M'am, ye have to work for it!
Besides, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I took my parents to Ireland, I was quite limber. It's amazing how persuasive an Irish lilt can be, especially after a few pints...
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