Happy Effing Saint Patrick’s Day.

I, like about 80% of the American population, hail from Irish roots. Really deep roots that are buried under a lot of other European stuff, but there nonetheless. In my childhood, I was not encouraged to wear green because supposedly these roots are Northern Irish who we all know are just wannabe English anyway.

[Although actually, if you look up the remaining geographical feature bearing the "family" name, it actually falls outside of that volatile line on the "green" side of Ireland. But who am I to argue with tradition?]

Upon reaching self-absorbed, anti-establishment, rebellious teenagerdom I decided that St. Patrick was a wanker and a murderer and I would wear all black on his "holiday" in memory of all the poor, defenseless pagans he mercilessly drove over cliffs while brandishing a cross. This is a somewhat skewed interpretation of the few facts we have about St. Pat's history, but it is true that he wasn't a big fan of the pagan and they seemed really cool to me at the time. Kinda still do.

I upheld that tradition today, in a totally accidental way. Weeks ago, I offered to help chaperone a 5^th grade field trip the Kennedy Center because I thought it might be my only opportunity to go. And it was free. And I have a lovely black Donna Reed type dress with strappy black sandals that would be just smashing for a matinee performance. And I am an idiot.

Because no matter how impressive the Kennedy Center is, no matter how talented and vivacious the performers, no matter how much I was looking forward to going swish swish in my full skirt, nothing can mitigate the BRAIN MELTING TOXIC SLUDGE NOISE of an overcrowded bus full of 5^th grade brats.

Oh that's unfair. They're not really brats. They're SHRIEKING WHIRLING DIRVISH ALIEN CHILDREN whose parents dropped them off on our planet so their species could die out in peace.

Sometimes I forget just how "abnormal" my own child is, with her polite manners and considerate ways and utter lack of interest for engaging in SCREAMING AT A DECIBLE LEVEL FIT TO SHORT CIRCUIT THE PENTAGON! And then I do something stupid like volunteer to help at a school function and am ever so painfully reminded.

Right now I am supposed to be preparing our "traditional" St. Patrick's Day meal of
colcannon (because I really don't like corned beef and I'm the one that cooks, so pfft!), but my brain dripped out of my ear somewhere along the I-495 and the clanging echo of the fall of human civilization is still racking the space wherein it used to dwell.