Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig, everyone! I thought I would share a brief St. Patrick's day story with you as you quaff green beer and engage in fisticuffs with random strangers on the street. (Or is that just me?)
This actually took place *last* St. Patrick's Day, but I think it falls within the statute of limitations on blog post eligibility. If not... well, it's my blog, dammit! Anyway, I was sitting at my desk at work when one of my friends stopped by to say hello.
Typically we chat about how our respective favorite baseball and hockey teams (Boston Red Sox/Seattle Mariners and Boston Bruins, in my case) fared the previous evening.
But not this day.
"Happy St. Patrick's Day," I said.
"And you too," he said. "I'm confused about something though."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Well, just look at what you're wearing," he said.
I looked down. Nothing seemed amiss.
"I'm sorry... what's wrong with it?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Did I spill something on it?"
"No. That's not it."
"OK, I give up," I said, baffled.
"It's St. Patrick's Day," he said, gesturing at my teal dress, black tights, and boots."Look at your red hair and all of those freckles. Of all people, shouldn't you know you're supposed to be wearing green?"
"Who says I'm not?" I replied instantly, struggling mightily to look as innocent as possible while keeping a straight face.
A turned bright red, then he began to laugh.
"Touche," he said, grinning, toasting me with his coffee.
"Sláinte," I replied, lifting my own coffee mug in return.
The ideal song for today from one of Ireland's greatest bands - Thin Lizzy:
And of course I would be remiss for not including this classic:
Those twin lead guitars from Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson are absolutely killer. Makes this Irish lass proud of her heritage. :c)
Hello, gentle reader. Once again, apologies for the lengthy spell between posts. It's been eventful in Cass's little corner of the world. Hopefully I can share some of it soon. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, though, both my partner-in-crime April and your humble blogstress thought it was high time to share another of our incisive tete-a-tetes concerning the pressing matters of the day.
On this day, our wide-ranging discussion covered the gamut, from meteorology to foreign affairs to, ultimately, the creative process - all pursued with our usual level of determination, rigorous intellect, and good taste.
Enjoy! (And feel free to take notes if you are so inclined. There's much wisdom here, if I do say so myself. And I do...)
This conversation took place in the middle of Snowpocalypse in both Toronto and Boston.
April: Car outside temp display shows -23C. Brrr!!!!
Cass: Two more feet of snow here today - that will be 100 inches in five weeks. That does it: we're moving to southern France. Pack your bags, girl!
A: Done and double done.
C: We'll have to work on our air of unearned haughtiness on the plane ride, I guess.
A: Plane ride?!? Mais non! Package steamer. Remember, I'm bringing a few cars, clothes, etc.
C: Raylan keeps asking Dewey if he wants kidney for dinner.
A: Law and Order: I Love Lucy. Lucy and Ethel are cops on NYC vice unit in late fifties. Already have half the episodes written in my head.
C: Dan & Roger from Mad Men are a natural crossover, I think. Perhaps Joan becomes Ethel & Lucy's CI at Sterling-Cooper?
C: Sorry - Confidential Informant. I forget not everyone grew up with a father slinging police lingo.
A: Got it.
A: Makes perfect sense now.
C: Copy that. OMG... I can't stop the lingo now! And I have an insatiable craving for crullers, bad coffee, and questionable off-duty fashion choices! Help!!!
A: Focus, dammit! This is important! In the Seventies, how about a reboot of Law and Order: ILL (I Love Lucy)? Little Ricky becomes cocaine baron and relocates to Miami.
C: Hang on.. I'm alerting Crockett & Tubbs with the Imminent Drug Bust beacon. Just gotta find the right shade of pastel filter to apply first.
A: Tell them to leave the socks at home.
C: "You're under arrest, scumbag - for a crime against fashion!"
And on it went, for hours and hours. (And no, I am not kidding!)
It's hard to fathom how such obvious genius continues to go unrecognized by the cultural elite, isn't it? One can only hope they see the errors of their way while there's still time for April and I to save television. Hollywood... the clock is ticking!
On that note, here's a lovely version of one of my favorite Kinks songs: "Celluloid Heroes."
Only Ray Davies could look at what most would casually dismiss as a slightly tacky and vulgar tourist attraction... and instead recognize a metaphor for loneliness, longing, and the hope of transcendence, even if it's only vicariously, for a few precious hours on the silver screen.