It’s meant…nothing. Yes, I’m a quarter Irish. Yes, I like to party. But I grew up with a family that ignored the holiday for some strange reason, and I never got into the spirit in the way so many others have. Oh, it always looked like a great time, but St. Patty’s Day usually flew by me without a second glance. That’s my terrible, secret, awful confession.
Then I married my husband. Who’s all Irish. And he treated St. Patty’s Day like no one I’ve ever seen. He took the day off. Dressed in full uniform. And went to Manhattan for a drink fest to end all drink fests. This was a serious condition to our relationship – I was never, ever, ever to ask him to give up St. Patty’s day.
So, I didn’t. And I got a kick out of my husband enjoying something like a kid, full force energy, even though he did drink green beer.
And for me? Well, my fave St. Patty’s day took place in Port St. Lucie, Florida, with my best friend. I’m a crazy Mets fan (again, don’t judge me) and we took a trip down for Spring Training that year. We spoke with the players, watched a game, got autographs, and ended up in a bar drinking green beer and talking baseball. Pretty perfect day all around.
So…it’s time for you to confess. What is your craziest St. Patty’s day memory? Leave me a comment and I’ll give someone a $5.00 Amazon gift card to buy the book of your choice! And while you’re here, sign up for my blog or newsletter so you don’t miss a thing!
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