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St Pat’s

Today is St. Patrick’s day (celebrated), and our neighborhood is overrun by drunks. I’ve done my best to avoid going anywhere in Mt. Washington, and have stayed out of the South Side and downtown entirely. I’m not anti-beer and nonsense, far from it really, but I’m definitely anti large crowds of drunk, obnoxious people. Well, anti large crowds of people at all, and then when you add alcohol into the mix, forgeeeeet about it. Instead of guzzling green beer today, I took Baby Beez to ballet class, took a nap on the couch, ran out to fill the growlers at Hough’s for some at-home beer enjoyment tonight (Hough’s was surprisingly chill at the time), and then we went out with some folks from my husband’s work for bowling. It’s been a pretty laid back day, and that’s ok.

Even before dealing with people staggering oblivious into the middle of Shiloh Street, I’ve never been much for St. Patrick’s Day. When I was a kid, I flat out loathed it. Where I grew up in CA, they had this absolutely horrid “tradition” that if you weren’t wearing green on St. Patrick’s day, you’d get pinched, but if you were wrongfully pinched, you could punch the pincher. I didn’t like people telling me what color to wear, I don’t like my personal space invaded, and even with the promise of retribution against wrongful pinches, I just wanted to be LEFT ALONE. So no, St. Pat’s was not my jam. I hear that no one in Pittsburgh has that stupid tradition, it must be some weird California thing. In any event, I’m glad for that, because it quite literally is the. worst.

I had a brief stint in college when I did love St. Pat’s day. That was entirely because St. Pat’s day was about beer, and I was in college and wooooo beer! woooo crazy! This was also the same time of my life that I had a betta fish named Midori, because everyone seems to go through a phase in their early 20s where naming a pet after alcohol seems like a brilliant idea. Fish don’t live long, so I wasn’t stuck with that mistake for all that long, but I feel reeeeeal bad for anyone who ended up acquiring a parrot named Captain Morgan during that life phase.

Now I’m back to hating St. Pats, but really because it’s amateur hour at all the local bars, and people driving all stupid. Also, I occasionally get dragged by my husband to the parade, but the weather is inevitably bad, and I go because I feel like I owe it to him after dragging him to so many events, but I hate all the standing, and the cold, and the damp, and the drunks. It was raining this year and Mr. Beez decided not to go, and omg that was a beautiful thing.

So now here we are, on the evening of St. Patrick’s day (celebrated). Mr. Beez and I are sipping some lovely beers and watching Foxcatcher. I’ve wanted to see this movie for ages, so I am very happy about it. In one little glimmer of celebratory spirit, we popped into the Grandview Bakery tonight and got ourselves some Irish potatoes.

Irish Potatoes

They look totally gross, but they are delicious. They are these cream cheese coconut candies, rolled in cinnamon. Deeeelicious. Now if St. Patrick’s day were all about these, I might be able to get into the holiday.

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