Meanderings: March 17, 2000

Friday,
March 17, 2000
St. Patrick's Day

I feel like I just sent my little girl off to camp for the first time -- waaaaaah!

Tina is back in England (she had to go back to drop off her coursework and pay the feels for her A-levels in June, and it was decided that she'd just stay there until it was time to go to university in the fall). So I dropped her off at the airport tonight, where she set off the metal detectors with her nipple rings again. I announced loudly that if she stopped getting bits pierced this wouldn't happen, which amused the guard and caused her to giggle.

And then she was gone, and my second turn at surrogate parenthood comes to an end. This place feels so weird and empty -- I actually found myself wandering through the green room thinking, "Man, we need some kids in this place." News which is guaranteed to send my in-laws into fits of delight, but there it is.

What with running Tina to the airport and all, I didn't even realize that it was St. Patrick's Day until it wasn't anymore, although my subconscious had obviously been watching the calendar -- I was wearing an olive green shirt and green earrings yesterday. Yeah, I know that St. Paddy's may not be a big deal to a lot of people, but I come from Chicago -- this is the town where they paint a big-ass green stripe down State Street, dye the river green and hold a humongous parade with much revelry and drinking of green beer by people who claim Irish ancestry even if they came from Ulan Bator. Of course, there's also much puking of said green beer afterwards, but hey, that's what St. Patrick's Day is all about in Chicago.

Oh, and McDonalds traditionally serves mint milkshakes (do they still do that? I used to love those things).

Of course, this also meant that I missed making the traditional meal of corned beef, cabbage and potatoes and watching the traditional after-dinner video of "The Quiet Man." Then again, I can't remember seeing any corned beef around here and I don't have the faintest idea if the video store carries this particular selection, so it might have been a pointless exercise in any case. I'll have to go down to Gray's American Foods tomorrow and see what they have in the freezer.

And after my last line of yesterday (remember the quip about walking like Quasimodo? Demanding my own bell tower? I swear, you people. . .), Julie kindly sent me this starter home. It's lovely, thank you -- now I can start swinging from the bellropes and pour boiling oil on my enemies.

Or I will, once I build on a couple more stories. Time for Spackle Woman, Maid of Mortar to make an appearance. . .

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