Oh, I'm pretty sure there's some Irish in there - there's certainly English and Welsh - and as they say, everyone's a little bit Irish on March 17th.
Last night we had the incredibly un-Irish dinner of chili dogs. I'm still somewhat on my simplicity-kick, and chili dogs made from leftover frozen chili is pretty darn simple. The big plan was to then go out for a pint and a dessert, but I wasn't feeling that well and went to bed early. Apparently, I missed all kinds of excitement (read: bad behaviour) at my local Guinness-dispensery, but I did hear the sirens suggestive of many drunken louts wandering into the streets irrespective of traffic.
I have nothing against the celebration of St. Patrick's day, although I'm not a big fan of parades (or any other crowds). Last year, I organized a planned-potluck where we had Beef in Guinness, colcannon, champ, soda bread and all manner of delightfully Irish goodies.
I just wish that the whole idea of St. Patrick's day hadn't been subverted into a drink-til-you're-sick festival.
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