Top o’ the Mornin’!


It’s a no brainer when it comes to St. Patrick’s Day ’round my parts… ALL THINGS IRISH. 

I am of Scotch-Irish blood, so naturally, I celebrate this green gathering.  While visiting Ireland last summer, I learned that St. Patrick’s Day is not a day of debauchery, drinking, and pinching, but it is rather a day of religious observance for the Saint Patrick.

***Quick History Lesson:  He was born in Britain, taken captive by Irish raiders and held as a prisoner/slave for over 10 years.  Upon his escape, he returned to Britain, became a priest, and was summoned back to Ireland on a quest where he converted most of the Pagan culture to Christianity.  Patrick is rumored to have died on March 17, which is where his observance was born.  [And how we made it into an international LET’S-GET-BOMBED day, I’ll never understand.]

My St. Patrick’s Day tradition consists of cooking up the famous corn beef and cabbage meal that was more popularly consumed by wealthy Irish.  It has become a pretty mainstream dinner for most of us who celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, including myself, but I do it anyway.  Prior to my European vacation, I would pair my meal with a frothy Guinness in honor of my ancestors; however, after having tried a fresh Guinness straight from the Motherland, never again will I consume a Guinness anywhere else BUT the Emerald Isle.  [I promise you, there is a HUGE difference!] So until then, Jameson – straight up – will have to do.

And as for the obligatory WEARING GREEN:  I have a tattoo of three four-leaf clovers on my right foot, so no pinching for this gal! [In addition, I have green eyes, but that never seemed to make a difference when it came to the pinching game.]

As the Irish say in Gaelic… Sláinte! =)

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Leprachauns: Spawn of Satan (A Scary St. Patty’s Day Story)


Living on-site at a storage facility is much different than living in a house or apartment complex. Our apartment connects to the storage facility by a long, dark, cold hallway by a door in our laundry area. Every night, I have to walk past this doorway to get to my bedroom. When my husband Philip and I go to bed at the same time, I don’t notice it. But when he goes to sleep before me, and the house is dark and quiet, a quiet terror grips me as I quickly patter down the hallway to my bedroom and the doorway to the storage facility feel ominous. A small peephole is in the door, and sometimes I imagine looking through it at night, only to see something or someone in the hallway on the other side. [Read more…]