I'm not a big fan of St. Patrick's Day and all it has to offer: binge drinking, green food that's not supposed to be green, inebriated men wearing "Kiss Me I'm Irish" T-shirts slipping their best friend's wives the tongue.
The other 364 days out of the year, however, I love all things Irish... well, except for driving on the wrong side of the road, punching out your third cousin and Sinn Fein. Plus I've known since the age of seven that I would someday marry a tall, blond man of Irish descent. This piece of news came as a great relief to my tall, blond husband of Irish descent.
Our 1990 trip to The Mother Land-- as hubby refuses to call it-- was great fun. There's nothing quite like a gigantic Irish breakfast. "Why, yes, I'd love oatmeal and soda bread with marmalade and two fried eggs with bacon and sausage and a couple of broiled tomato halves and please pass the oversize tub of butter because I'm too fat and stuffed to reach across the table and get it myself."
Between the 8,000 calorie first meal and the eight pints of after dinner beer, I'm surprised I didn't have to buy a second airplane ticket for my ass on the way home.
Since I don't have a favorite Irish tune, I thought I'd post my favorite Public Image Limited song, "Rise" the chorus of which is based on an Irish proverb.
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