[insert Irish saying here, Slainte, Erin go Bragh, something]
Under normal circumstances, I love St. Patrick’s Day. Love tapping into my 1/2 or so Irish heritage, making a traditional Irish stew, even occasionally giving in and wearing something appropriately colored or themed – which is very much not my style the rest of the year.
This year, the circumstances are not normal, and so it’s hard for me to honestly say that I’m loving it. But I made a roast corned beef in Guinness, and am wearing my new green handknit socks. It’s small, but it’s an effort.
Tomorrow is busy with various errands, including a drive to MA for an appointment and lunch. (Blog carnival, too; topic is “Friends” this week.)
Then comes Thursday. A day that starts with oral surgery and ends with my mother-in-law visiting. We’re down to the wire here; I had been nursing an unsecret hope that she would cancel again, but so far all signs point to UGH.
I think I’ll ask the anesthesiologist to hit me with a little extra sedative…