Even though I couldn’t find my Kiss Me I’m Irish t-shirt, and grabbing a bluish sweater (thanks to dressing in the Daylight Savings Time dark) instead of green, and getting a last minute reprieve from lunch hour phone duty at work, I was still able to see the St. Paddy’s Day parade. My green and pink striped socks count as the appropriate apparel to honor my Healy ancestors, though, don’t they?
St. Patrick Himself greeted all.
Rosie’s fur felt like goat hair!
I yelled, “Thank you!” to the firefighters as they passed by instead of “Whoo, whoo, cuties!” I can’t whistle so that wasn’t an option.
The alma mater of someone I once knew.
Perhaps next year I’ll dig out my t-shirt, pour green food coloring over my hair, and participate in the parade.