ERIN GO BRAGH! Which means (and I only know because I looked it up, Dear Reader) Ireland Forever! It can also be translated: Ireland until the Day of Judgment (Yikes!) At any rate, I'm going to tell you about my St. Patrick's Day ups and downs, so I figured that would be as good an opener as any!
Of course, after we stopped for some Bailey's Irish Cream,
there was the sportin' of green beaded necklaces and shamrock stickers, too. It was all very festive.
And exceedingly warm and pleasant! As we strolled down the sidewalk I suggested to the yard man, "This beats hernia surgery any day, wouldn't you say?!"
We took a side trip over to the Italian Market, where I saw lots of food offerings for which I'd never dance a jig,
although most of the foods I saw there did excite me. And the yard man and I got our own private Olive Oil Tasting.
With the taste of olive oil still in our mouths
(and our heads full of olive-oil knowledge),
we returned to South Street to eat supper
at Supper (a restaurant so aptly named!)
Then we called it a day at Philly.
A very good day,
marred only by a parking ticket.
(We shouldn't have lingered so long
over our super Supper supper!)
We set out for home by the
light of a big fat moon.
And, ahhh, on St. Patrick's Day,
we had the luck o' the Irish with us!
(For the life o' me, Dear Reader,
I could never figure out if the
luck o' the Irish is good luck or bad; but either
way, we had it! Our day was not over.....)
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