Not me … NEVER me, but the painted rock lady Jan, as I spotted new rocks on Monday.
The rocks reminded me it’s time to switch to the V-Day coffee cup.
Running into Jan yesterday, I thanked her for planting new rocks whereupon she said she had already begun on rocks for Easter.
"What about St. Patrick’s Day?", asked I. "Doesn’t that come before Easter?"
"Oh, that’s right. Guess I’d better get busy", she replied.
Can’t wait to see what she comes up with.
Even though I no longer do anything or go anywhere to recognize St. Patrick’s Day, I do wear my four-leaf clover top.
When I was working, I’d pick up green bagels to treat the office to celebrate and, one year, I recall the Arab Attorney (the guy I’d blogged about still being bitter all these many years later), took me to a bar called Casey’s for green beer.
I don’t recall enjoying the taste, but not because it was green, but because it was beer.
In junior high school, I was the nerd that joined the Folk Dancing Group.
Our final exam was, one-by-one to perform in front of the group an Irish Jig, in the choreographic sequences designed by the teacher AND at the end of the dance we were to add a step we ourselves had designed.
I got an A in the class and though I do not recall any of the steps given by the instructor, to this day I recall my step and sometimes find myself jigging it around the unit.
Of course, I can no longer get both feet off the ground simultaneously to do it properly, but I manage a fair enough facsimile.
Funny what sticks in your mind.