The 17th of March was always a big day in DIH's family. Going in to the city to see the parade. Buying green bagels at Friedhofer's bake shop ("Erin Go Bragh Shalom"). Getting in trouble at school for wearing something green (out of uniform and we had a disastrous principal one year). So resorting to things like green nail polish.
Go ahead, make an issue out of that one.
I love Irish bars. But I was never one for going out on St. Patrick's Day. St. Patrick's Day is amateur night in Irish bars. Who needs a bunch of jocks who don't know the words to any of the songs? DIH prefers drunks with at least a reasonable amount of musical flair.
Thus her affinity for Irish bars. Back in D.C. there were some great ones. There was one near our apartment on Connecticut Avenue called the Four Provinces. Tons of fun and relatively quiet, except those nights when the kids from the Israeli embassy would show up and close the place. Then it tended to be a bit rowdy. Another favorite was shut down as a fire trap. When we moved out to Virginia we had the good luck of finding an apartment three blocks from a terrific Irish bar with great music on weekends. Drunk driving was never a worry. Drunk walking, maybe, but not driving.
Here in Minneapolis things are different, obviously. Life has moved on and DIH is now a responsible parent type. which puts a certain kink in one's barhopping style. Also there are so many Germans here, it's harder to find anyone to whom March 17th has as much meaning as it has to me.
Oh well. Patrick is still a greatsaint, and his feast is still a joyful one.
Happy St. Pat's, everybody.