At least that’s what they say – St. Patrick’s Day is the one day of the year that everyone gets to be Irish. I am a bit Irish (the surname of Harrington has English and Irish roots), but I’m actually more Sicilian which explains my WILD TEMPER!!! Just kidding, I don’t have much of a temper at all so that part of Sicily didn’t get through. My family is more Irish in the sense that we were raised as huge Notre Dame fans. That’s where my dad went for grad school and cheering for ‘Ol Notre Dame was something we started doing at birth. I knew the fight song by heart as a kid and our doorbell was the same tune. I’ve been to a few Notre Dame football games – even the one where they filmed Rudy. Go Irish! I did apply and was accepted to Notre Dame but just couldn’t fathom spending my winters up there, where my parents said most mornings the radio would declare, “It’s a gray and overcast day in South Bend, Indiana.” Two words: lake effect. No thank you. No wonder they decided to return to Florida after 3 years!
We kept all things Irish by naming our dogs silly Irish names. We had Shamrock, our black standard poodle who loved to swim. Clancey, our first Irish Wolfhound who lived to be quite old for a big dog. He was lazy and nice, until he got a bit crotchety in his old age (but only to strangers). And finally, sweet Bayley, another Irish Wolfhound who died young from bloat
(Shamrock also died from this).
Marty is not Irish at all unless you count his severe love affair with beer as an Irish trait.
And recently on Facebook Marty and I both took the “Where should you live” quiz and we both were told that we should live in Ireland. At least it told us the same place, but I’m not so sure about that quiz. I said I liked warm weather and beaches, but I did say I liked a night out with a pint and good friends. I think that’s the only part of the quiz that was remotely Ireland, so I think it wasn’t all that scientific.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day to everyone!