Went out for St. Patrick's Day. "I really must tell you---you're the prettiest Irish girl I've seen here all night". Now, I know you're lying your hot little pants off, so I just respond with "you're kind". Got the corned beef and cabbage, even if it isn't just how my mom or grandma would make it. Black and Tans too. And some akward coversation with various strangers who took it upon themselves to occupy the 4th stool at our high-top.
Its a Monday so there were no amber shots to be had. I just needed a partner in crime, since I feel my days of being the drunkest person by far are over. My potential partner in crime has a full school day tomorrow. Oh well. I get to spend the night in my own bed. Check with me in a few to see if thats a nice or unfortunate happening.
I've got a song. I couldn't hum you the melody, and I don't know any of the words, beyond my first and middle name. But I know that the first breath of the first note of the first word will make be break into a quiet sob. It just always has. Always. always. always. Even before my little self knew what was happening. Thinking about it now conjures up a heavy chest. I haven't heard it in probably more than 10 years. My Dad doesn't like to sing it because of how quickly I turn to tears. Its His song for Me. And every little girl should have a lullaby.
I was very sick as a little girl. Sound sleep was taken whenever and wherever it could be held onto. My parents and grandparents used to coax me into, at the very least, a mild sleep by whispering sweet verses of love and kindess into my little, cut-off and sewn back on [yes, cut-off, but thats another night's rambling] and aching ears while they rubbed my back or arm. To this day if you graze my arm or head or back lightly I'm out like a light.
Same with a plane, train, or automobile ride. Not sure why. It'll run into another brick wall again sometime and see the anwser, but the bricks haven't joined with the mortar yet.
Bitter-sweet is the best word, but bitter exists only as a must. Sweet is the proper idea. Every little girl should have such memories. I think its enough, and can last me [?]. Oh Honey, Medicine Man.
Hope you had some genuine beer/whiskey/beef and potatoes. And please let you have worn some green.
*
“Let anyone laugh and taunt if he so wishes. I am not keeping silent, nor am I hiding the signs and wonders that were shown to me by the Lord many years before they happened, who knew everything, even before the beginning of time.”—Saint Patrick
*
“The Irish don't know what they want and are prepared to fight to the death to get it”—S. Littlewood.
*
“The Irish - Be they kings, or poets, or farmers, They're a people of great worth, They keep company with the angels, And bring a bit of heaven here to earth”
*
“Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter.Lullabies, dreams and love ever after. Poems and songs with pipes and drums. A thousand welcomes when anyone comes... That's the Irish for you!”
*
*
Its a Monday so there were no amber shots to be had. I just needed a partner in crime, since I feel my days of being the drunkest person by far are over. My potential partner in crime has a full school day tomorrow. Oh well. I get to spend the night in my own bed. Check with me in a few to see if thats a nice or unfortunate happening.
I've got a song. I couldn't hum you the melody, and I don't know any of the words, beyond my first and middle name. But I know that the first breath of the first note of the first word will make be break into a quiet sob. It just always has. Always. always. always. Even before my little self knew what was happening. Thinking about it now conjures up a heavy chest. I haven't heard it in probably more than 10 years. My Dad doesn't like to sing it because of how quickly I turn to tears. Its His song for Me. And every little girl should have a lullaby.
I was very sick as a little girl. Sound sleep was taken whenever and wherever it could be held onto. My parents and grandparents used to coax me into, at the very least, a mild sleep by whispering sweet verses of love and kindess into my little, cut-off and sewn back on [yes, cut-off, but thats another night's rambling] and aching ears while they rubbed my back or arm. To this day if you graze my arm or head or back lightly I'm out like a light.
Same with a plane, train, or automobile ride. Not sure why. It'll run into another brick wall again sometime and see the anwser, but the bricks haven't joined with the mortar yet.
Bitter-sweet is the best word, but bitter exists only as a must. Sweet is the proper idea. Every little girl should have such memories. I think its enough, and can last me [?]. Oh Honey, Medicine Man.
Hope you had some genuine beer/whiskey/beef and potatoes. And please let you have worn some green.
*
“Let anyone laugh and taunt if he so wishes. I am not keeping silent, nor am I hiding the signs and wonders that were shown to me by the Lord many years before they happened, who knew everything, even before the beginning of time.”—Saint Patrick
*
“The Irish don't know what they want and are prepared to fight to the death to get it”—S. Littlewood.
*
“The Irish - Be they kings, or poets, or farmers, They're a people of great worth, They keep company with the angels, And bring a bit of heaven here to earth”
*
“Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter.Lullabies, dreams and love ever after. Poems and songs with pipes and drums. A thousand welcomes when anyone comes... That's the Irish for you!”
*
*
"May the Irish hills caress you. May her lakes and rivers bless you. May the luck of the Irish enfold you. May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.”
{this picture isn't worth the thousand words I could use to describe this vis a vis through my own eyes and heart}
Sweetest Dreams Sweetest.
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