Happy St. Patricks Day!!!

[new.vogue.nightmare]

St. Vincent College has strict enforcement policies. >_< Blah. Although I look a little older than I am, so maybe I could just sneak in to someone's par-tay.

[rklenseth]

HAPPY ST. PATRICKS DAY!!! People that aren't from Ireland probably don't have a clue what im talking bout and think im crazy (ok so maybe im crazy, but still, thats not the point)

You forget about all of your Irish-American relatives over here in North America.

[Meh]

I'm wearing a little green today.
Since I am just a little (25%) Irish.

Is the tradition of selecting names from both sides of the family still praticed or is that an Italian thing?

My son is David (me) Chistopher (after his aunt Christy on his mothers side).

I am David (my father) Michael (after my uncle on my mothers side).

My dad is David (his father) Phillip (after his mother Philliomena).

His dad was David (?) Johnathan (?).

His father (?, not David) was one of the ones that moved here. He was a "gypsy" born at a "waycrossing". In modern terms he was a "migrant potatoe farmer" born at the "pull off on side of a road". He was also the USA north altantic navy light weight boxing campion in WWI. He came over during the famine.

?=I have these things written down somewhere but haven't thought about it in an age.

[Báng]

Yeah...tradition still carrys in a lot of familes. My cousin had a baby boy about a month ago and named him after his father, Michael. So it still happens.

[west]

Not a tradition yet, but...

My great granddad's name was Sam Mulberry
My dad's name was Sam Markham
I want to name my oldest daughter Samantha...keep going with the 'every-other-generation-is-a-Sam" thing, but with a twist. yay twists.

[rklenseth]

So that is an Irish tradition? I thought that was a Western Europe tradition in general.


Richard (Named after my father and grandfather)
Kenneth (Named after my grandfather on my mother's side)

[Báng]

Maybe it's a tradition carried out through out the world...wouldn't be surprised if someone claimed it was started in England though!

[The Hunter]

No St. Patricks day here, but I'll raise a few in his honour.

[Psycho Pixie]

ok.. what to say, what to say......


*thinks alot.....*

Happy St Patty's day.

*Thinks some more*

hey, what was Patrick made a Saint for anyway? Inquireing Pixies want to know....

*thinks yet again*

No, he wasnt born in England, i remember that....

*taps finger on chin*

My grandma was half Irish, my grandpa was half irish, thats makes my mom half irish as well... so i am a full quarter Irish. woohoo!!! But, my grandma was also english, welsh, french... Grandpa was Dutch, scottish, German.....

*keeps that finger tapping*

And on my dads side...... Polish, Chec/Slavic, american indian.

*smiles*

That means i can observe just about any national holiday in Europe doesnt it? Gods, I love being American.

*Sighs*

AND yes... I know St Patty's day is supposed to be a religious as well as national holiday. SO WHAT, Im celigrating anyway.


*Grins and bounces*

Corned Beef and Cabbage!!!!! woohoo!!!!!! and alcomahol.. gots to have tha Alcomahols.



Psycho Pixie

[sammigurl61190]

WOOHOO!!! I'M STEP-IRISH!








Okay, my stepmom and her family is Irish. But I was in the St. Louis Dogtown AND regular parade for 6 years in a row, I love corn beef and cabbage, and I like step dancing--how do you argue with that?

[jeslange]

DISCLAIMER: I have nothing against St. Patrick's Day.
DISCLAIMER: I love my hometown, even though it seems to me like something by Norman Rockwell, except on acid.
************************************************
Today at 3:30 P.M.:

I'm innocently working at a building my parents bought in the historical district of the town I grew up in, when Dad walks in smiling broadly and....

Dad: "Hi, Hun." *starts putting the lid on the paint I'm working with.* "Go wash your hands."

I return and...

Dad: "Hold onto the boys." (my brother's two yorkshire terriers, who are donned in green scarfs).

Dad: "Hold the boombox." (cd player is already loudly playing Irish music).

Me: "I'm not marching in the parade."

Dad: "You don't have to be in the parade. I just need you to carry the boombox for me while I walk with the boys and carry the (Irish walking stick, starts with an "s").

Me: So, I WILL be in the parade, and I'll be carrying the cd player, walking the boys, and carrying your walking stick too?

Dad: "It's not my ("s" named stick). I borrowed it from D. Morgan, and I borrowed this from the lawyers." *puts a green plastic thing on my head that is not anything a real Irish person would wear, has fake plastic shamrocks on top of springs, and is something nobody older than 8 or so would wear unless they were drunk.*

Me: "Did Mom come?"

Dad: "Of course. She's at The Gallery." (A nearby restaurant. When my dad goes out in public, Mom finds somewhere to sip wine until she forgets to pretend she doesn't know him).

Me: "Can I go join her?"

Dad: *poutily* "No, I want you to walk with me."

Me: "You just said I don't have..."

Dad: "Dean!" *runs off to greet a friend*

Me: *looks down at the boys.* "Do either of you know where the parade is going to be?" They both answer by wrapping their leashes around my legs and pulling in opposite directions.

***********************
Today at 4 P.M.

The boys, the way-to-big cd player, the walking stick, the paint-covered me, and the cheesy head thingy finally get to where the parade is supposed to start.

Mom: *looking embarrased* "You've GOT to change your shirt! You're filthy!" *dabs a napkin in red wine and attacks my shirt with it, then my nose*

Me: "I'm wearing a nasty work shirt because I'm supposed to be working. I didn't bring anything else."

Mom: "Don't be a smart-ass."

Me: "You have empty nest syndrome. Will you buy me a bisque? I didn't eat lunch."

Mom: "We're eating after."
************************************************
10 min. later:

Dad: *at the very front of the parade, dancing with no skill and out of sync with the music, carrying nothing, calling out to every man, woman, child, and pet by first name, being looked at with envy by the mayor*

Me: *next to him, tripping over two leashes, keeping the boys' noses out of the asses of the way-too-many dogs on the sidewalks, carrying the way-too-big boombox, barely holding onto the walking stick with an aching pinky and whatever that finger next to the pinky is called, tossing my head around to readjust the thingy that's falling forward to my eyebrows*

Me: "Uh, oh. There's dried paint on the cane."

Dad: "Why can't you be more careful?"

Me: "I'm getting a migraine."

Dad: "Maybe you need to eat something."

Me: "I do need to..."

Dad: "Smile! There's Mike!" (Mike is a photographer for the local paper, and I don't think I turned my head away in time).

***************************************************
After the parade:

Dad: *Breaking in line to get green cookies before the girl scout troop eats them all. Going onto the stage with a band that will be playing Irish music and doesn't seem to find it at all odd that a man they've never even met is suddenly their lead singer.

Me: *battling an endless swarm of people who are unrecognizeable to me, but have apparently known me my whole life and want to know every detail of what I've been doing in the 6 years since I fled there to get away from them all*

Me: *returning the walking stick to the store my dad borrowed it from* "Here you go ma'am. My dad borrowed this. Thank you."

Ma'am: "Oh! You must be Neal's little girl!" (I'm 23).

Ma'am: "Is your family voting "yes" or "no" on the tax?"

Me: "I can't tell you, ma'am. It's top secret."

Ma'am: *laughing* "You ARE your father's daughter!"

Me: "Yes, I am. Well, thanks again."

*****************************************************
back at The Gallery:

Mom: "Where's your father?"

Me: "He's singing at the pavilion with those rednecks with fake Irish accents"

Mom: "Is he being civil? There are kids here."

Me: "He's probably singing "The Scotsman". I didn't stick around."

Jason (my brother): *laughing* "I don't know where ya been, lad, but I see you've won first prize."

Me: "Will you take your dogs?"

Jason: "I'm helping Tera setup for tonight. One of the girls didn't show up for work." (Tera will one day be my sister-in-law, if she doesn't wise up and get away while she still can).

Mom: "The boys can't be tied up out here alone with all these kids around. They'll bite someone. Will you take them home and put them in the garage?"

Me: *whining* "I'm hungry."

Mom: "Well, we can't take the boys into the restuarant, and you're filthy anyway."

Me: "Will you give me some money so I can drive through somewhere on the way home?"

Mom: "My purse is in the car. Ask your father for the keys."

Me: "No, it's ok.

Mom: "You have a test tomorrow, right?"

Me: "Two tests, and a quiz."

Mom: "Go home and study, so you can get a good job and make lots of money."

Me: "I've never studied in my life. I don't know how."

Mom: "Don't be a smart-ass."

Me: "I'm not. It's true."

Mom: "You've got to learn to manage your time better. Don't go home and play that game."

Me: "I won't. Bye. I love you."

Me: "Bye, Jay. Bye, Tera."

Jason: "Bye, Puke." (Don't ask. Please).

***************************************************
In my car:

Me: "Bunker! You little shit!" *tosses a napkin over the spot on the seat where he just pissed, like he always does when he rides in my car, and like he doesn't do in anyone else's car.*
****************************************************
At my parents' house:

After putting the boys inside, where they'll pee on the new carpet of a house worth more than I'll earn in my lifetime, I let my dog Hershey off of her chain.

Hershey: *Is rubbing her back on the ground, exposing a gnarly scar on her abdomen, which she got when I was 12.*.....It is actually one scar on top of another. The first is from when she was spayed. The second is from when she ripped open her stitches after the spay. She was scared and was biting off chunks of her innards, which I was holding inside of her during the 45 min drive to the vet. Mom was doing 80 down the highway, leaning her face towards the a/c, swearing she was going to faint. I was in the back seat holding Hershey's guts, trying not to look at the bared teeth an inch from my eyeball.
******************************************************
Driving home:

Me: *driving straight into the sun for almost an hr, blood screaming its way through constricted vessles in my temples*

Me: "I am going to remember to clean up the pee when I get home. I AM going to remember to clean up the pee when I get home. I AM going to remember....." I don't remember to clean up the pee when I get home.

[west]

No wonder Maily Yumm is always so tetchy

[nitefyre]

=| Sounds fun *tries not to crack up*

Very detailed account. As fer me I din't remember it was Patty's day till I got to school. And Now I'm home. Thats the quickest way to sum it up, still alive.

[Bran-Muffin]

"hey, what was Patrick made a Saint for anyway? Inquireing Pixies want to know.... "

That a real question? if it hasnt been answered already St Patrick was made a saint for bringing christianity to the irish people. His follwers made him a saint as the church didnt have an official making a saint policy.

[rklenseth]

St. Patrick was born in somewhere either in Wales or England. As a boy he was taken by Irish raiders and made a slave for an Irish King. Pretty much he was made a shepard of this king's cattle. One day, Patrick now a young man, supposedly God came to Patrick and told him he could help him escape but only if Patrick promised to return him a favor. At first, Patrick refused because he wasn't very religious (He didn't know until later it was God that was talking to him). But eventually, Patrick agreed and God told him what to do and Patrick escaped Ireland and made it back home. This is when God revealed what he was and told Patrick that he had to become a priest. Patrick did this and then God came back and told Patrick to go to Ireland and teach them the ways of the Bible and th teachings of Jesus Christ. This was in itself a suicide mission. The Celts weren't all to fond of the men of God. Patrick went anyways and returned to the town that he was once a slave and was able to convert the town. Over time, Patrick converted more and more people and the Irish Kings were becoming fearful of him. Celtic Druids came to Patrick and tried to prove that he was a fraud but Patrick past every test. But in time, the Church that he served came to dislike and fear him and this eventually led to him leaving Ireland.

But to put it mildly, that is only a myth. St. Patrick wasn't the first succeful Catholic missionary to Ireland and the conversion of the Irish people was the work of hundreds of Catholic missionaries. But it wasn't really a conversion. The Irish still kept their Celtic ways, they just integrated Catholicism into their culture. That is why we Halloween, a Celtic holiday where in which the dead rise from the grave for one night. The Irish have made this into the day that the God raises the dead from the grave so that their spirits can move onto the next world and the next day, any remaining spirits are removed by the Saints (All Saints Day). And that is why you are suppose to dress up like the dead so that the dead spirits that want revenge will mistake you as one of their own.

Patrick wasn't his real name but I don't feel like looking up his real name at the moment.