Dana
and I were out at a farmers market this morning when a woman nearby
answered her cell phone and said, "Happy Drinkers Day!" Two years ago,
that was us.
Before the pregnancy, before the baby, before the
rigid scheduling brought on by nap times and bed times and before that
sad fact that we simply can't find a babysitter who doesn't charge $98
an hour and insists on medicine cabinet priviledges, this used to be
our holiday. We'd eat corned beef and cabbage. I'd suck down Guiness
while Dana pretended to enjoy herself. A great time was had by all.
Now,
however, it's a different story. Emmeline is sleeping in her room. Dana
is finishing some work, and I am dreaming of a cool pint of Guiness. So
if, like us, you're lame enough to be home. this. instant. instead of
out drowning your uvula (no, silly, higher) in Guiness, please enjoy
this inaugural rendition of the St. Patrick Days blues -- in which I
drive the fun out of Ireland.
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