Contrary to popular thought, we are not Irish. That's not to say someone who married in wasn't a wee bit Irish, but through the family tree you can trace the Damon's straight back to England in 1662 and the Stahl's and Jones/Miller lines (Scott) straight back to Germany much more recent than that (with the exception of the Stahl sidetrack of a Native American Great-great-grandmother.) So, my name is Erin and I have a red-haired sister named Shannon. And I can't really find a truly Irish relative in the tree. But, for name's sake, red-haired Shannon and I celebrate St. Patrick's Day in some form every single year. We feel like we owe it to our names, mine meaning the whole island of Ireland and Shannon being just a river. Last year we tried to enjoy Chicago. We had a good time with Anousha, but it was effing freezing. And I am not kidding. Only the girl from LA had a coat. Shannon and I had to buy sweatshirts. and socks. and umbrellas. We shopped for a future baby that had just turned out to be a boy, something no one expected and everyone is now grateful for every day.
This year I have dressed that beautiful baby boy in his very own St. Patrick's shirt fresh off the $1 rack at Target. He's a Wee Bit Irish today too. I'm in a cute headband from said rack with jewelry and tank to match as best as possible. I'm more apple green than Kelly green so it's hard from me. Shannon and I were supposed to have Thai food (about as un-Irish as possible) with Green Beer... but she has strep throat and is quarantined at home. :(
So... it's Weston and me, and maybe Scott to enjoy the day. Maybe we'll grill out. or maybe we'll run to Culver's. Who knows? Maybe we'll boycott the entire thing and end up eating popcorn. All I know is this: it's 73 degrees and sunny in Iowa in March. No coats or umbrellas this year. I am heading outside as soon as possible for as long as possible before March returns tomorrow with a vengeance.
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