The wind, it seems, puffs up a bit more with each passing year; yesterday, it was positively highfaluting. Blew our neighbor’s fence right over. Then I was paranoid. Every few minutes I’d peek out the window, just to make sure ours remained upright.
The fact it continues to stand is nothing short of a miracle, truly.
The wind also made for some interesting walking, downtown. The surrounding buildings create something of a vortex, which is a lot of fun to watch (and mock as) others walk through—not so fun to experience.
For example, the minute I walked out of the parking garage, sand blew into my eyes, rendering me momentarily blind, the back of my jacket stood to attention, and I realized, though my feet were making the appropriate movements, I remained in the same spot.
Then there was the hair.
Oh, the hair . . .
Let it be known: I did try. In an effort to corral the mayhem, I braided my hair. Alas, moisture lurked about. That, coupled with the squalls did my locks no favors. Any stranger who happened upon me probably figured me for some sort of Gene Wilder impersonator.
Sad state of affairs, that.
All the same, I was nowhere to be found when the street sign toppled over; I got free beer; and the day ended with Irish comfort food.
Today all that remains is to recover.
Not that I drink a lot, mind. But I have been known to eat my weight in soda bread . . . and that’s roughly the same thing.
You realize, don’t you, that St. Paddy’s Day falls on a Monday–this coming Monday, to be precise.
With that there’s really only one thing for us to do: party all weekend.
And by party I mean read books, whilst gnawing on chunks of soda bread, naturally.
In case you missed the first hundred times I mentioned it, these are my favorites:
- Amazingly easy soda bread — so easy, and so very, very tasty (hint: buttermilk is our friend!)
- Corned beef and cabbage, crock-pot style— I’m not the biggest fan of red meat. Tough red meet throws me right over the edge; so corned beef is always a little iffy. This recipe, however, has yet to let me down–or make me gag. It’s nothing but tender deliciousness. Also, the crock-pot allows you to simmer the celebration all day, as you work, or frolic, as the case may be. It’s a win all the way around.
Needless to say, I hope you have big plans for the weekend. I hope you partake of a little Irish fare . . . maybe dance an Irish jig or two. I hope the beverage flows with the conversation, and you’re blessed with the company of those whom you love most of all. In other words, I hope you find the true treasure at the end of that rainbow . . .
HAPPIEST OF WEEKEND WISHES, TO YOU!
And Happy Valentine’s Day!
I’m anticipating a lovely one, at that. It shall begin with donuts at work (employee appreciation, you know). We’ll be partaking in an afternoon tea. Actually, it’s a farewell celebration incognito. We have a co-worker who’s retiring, but doesn’t want a big to-do. So we plan to sit around, sipping tea, and chatting, whilst we deliver her a stack of handmade Valentine’s.
I suggested manly treats for the few fellows whom work in our department. It’s going to be girly overload—a mustachioed chocolate bar may be the only tether to their sanity.
Of course, once the work day comes to a close, that’s when the loveliness shall begin in earnest. I can hardly wait.
So to you, dear friends, I wish days filled with blushed hues, flowers, and candles. At the very least, I hope the love of friends and family surrounds you. I hope you cheat a little on that diet, and enjoy a sweet treat or two. I hope for anything and everything that will make your heart soar.
And to those facing harsh conditions, those facing uncertainty and sadness—extra love to you.
Another Christmas Eve wherein I’ll be frantically baking + decorating sugar cookies at the last possible moment . . . eating more than I’d care to admit . . . handing out gifts . . . opening gifts . . . and reading the Christmas story.
I’m especially looking forward to that last bit. It never gets old. As a matter of fact, the Christmas story gets more precious with each passing year.
Tomorrow, of course, the celebration will continue with stockings and dinner, family and friends.
Now that Santa mentions it, ‘going to bed early’ may not be such a bad idea.
Before I head into the festivities, however, I want to wish you happy holidays. Wherever you may be, however you may celebrate, I hope Christmas—and the days that follow—are merry and bright.