Dancing in the Rain

 

 With Guinness and shepherd's pie on the line, St. Paddy's Day cannot be ignored.

My gr-daughters are Irish dancers. It is possible that our photos and dance recordings of the two of them could overwhelm you.  Instead, you will  see a world record of Irish dancers performing across the bridge, with the line wrapping down along the street.  

Riverdance on the banks of the Liffey

 Here is a write-up about that day:

"Riverdance World Record Longest Line 21st July 2013 - What a fantastic day on the banks of the River Liffey. A sincere thank you to all who made it happen - .. but most especially all the 1693 record breaking dancers from 44 countries whose enthusiasm and energy made the day and broke the record! Thank you!


Lead by Jean Butler and Padraic Moyles and over 115 Riverdance dancers in costume, the Riverdance line stretched for 1km along the north and south banks of the river Liffey, Dublin. The dancers were watched by an audience of thousands cheering them on as they danced for 5 continuous minutes in an unbroken line into the record books.

Over a 1000 of the dancers mastered the Riverdance step and these fantastic dancers danced Riverdance for 5 continuous minutes with the professional Riverdance dancers then after a short rest they joined the other dancers to dance for another 5 minutes to break the world record.

Our gr-daughters in 2018 Yosemite trip. 

You cannot picture how amazing that time was.

                         “Lá fhéile Pádraig sona dhuit!”

Law leh Paw-drig suna yee-uv

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

And may the strength of three be in your journey. Sláinte’.

 

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at David's Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven? 

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold. 

Chicago

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Cork I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Ballinaspittle, Cork Ireland

 Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

Hand hurts less.  Right hand is complaining. This is a repost from 2015. it was fun to do.  How to pronounce Toast below.. 

SLAHN'-CHUH

Hoist a Pint

What St. Patrick can teach us.

Saint Patrick's Day: At (King) David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at the Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. (Slaps him on the back.)

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint ta a daecent sleep? (Wipes some drool from his cheek.)

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green) Sláinte.

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already? (Shaking his head.)

Maire (Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are up and celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  (Seamus and Paddy stand up and pull out the chair by a gold-gilded table.) The day ye up and died down there. (Maire settles into the chair.) I'll be havin' ta usual, Dave.

David:  Here you go, Maire. (He places a Waterford Crystal Rosslare sherry glass filled with Harvey's Bristol Cream Sherry) 'Tis only ta best for ya, love. (She smiles and smooths her blue gown.)

Paddy:  (Looking down) So it ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Ta', My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven?

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold.

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity. Those seamro'g . Set them for ye.

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord God.  An’ Paddy drove out dem dere serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire rises, holding her sherry, and stands next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Clonmel I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when ye see group there.  And, Maire, go ta some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer precious image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

If I have offended any, please forgive me.  

This is a re-post of 2011.  

A Sober St. Patrick's Day?

1907 St. Patrick's Day Parade in Ireland

Today is St. Patrick’s Day.  For some Americans, it is an excuse to get rip-roaring drunk.  Given that a high percentage of those vomiting in some toilet or alley way are in their early twenties (or younger), I think back to times in Ireland when St. Patrick’s Day was considered a Holy Day. 

The Catholic Church and the tourism officials have vacillated on this issue (“Yes: hoist the pint! or No: you can wait till after Lent.) The Irish-Americans held the first St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Manhattan in 1848, while the Irish celebrated with a parade in 1903.

It comes down to politics, really. Until the 70s, there was a ban on selling in pubs on March 17.  In 1995, the tourist industry saw new opportunities to throw open the pub doors for visitors and residents alike.

Many in Ireland observe March 17 as a Holy Day; it falls during Lent and should be give respect.

If I see one more shirt exalting the Irish and its drinking, I will also find a toilet or alley way.

Get your Irish on

I'm Irish and I love it!

Everyone is Irish!

St. Patrick and Gravity

I don't drink...

To have “Casual Friday” coincide with St. Patrick’s Day gave Sean real joy.  He had some nice new khaki shorts, new shamrock socks, a new authentic tee shirt, and some old green shamrock underwear he'd had for years. 

tees made as you want

Sean was decked out and ready to go, ready to work, ready to present a power point to some higher-ups…just plain ready.

He didn’t notice any problem until break when the underwear started creeping down.  Sean hiked them up and cursed that he had not thought to wear a belt.

Ten minutes later the damn underwear was creeping even lower, almost to the hem of the khakis.  Sticking his hands into the pockets and grabbing them seemed the most effective thing he could do.

But walking around with hands-in-pockets had some draw backs.  Now having to grip the underwear seemed obscene.  Thankfully, power point time came and the lights went out.

Even so, while he nervously spoke, the underwear gave in to gravity, sagging until each leg sported a curtain effect of shamrock undies.  Only the crotch had any hold on them.

End of power point, still dark, had Sean racing to the men’s room where he stripped off the blasted things.  Time to go commando.   

St. Patrick's Day: a re-post

Saint Patrick's Day: At King David’s Pub and Winery

(Scene opens in Heaven, at the Pub.  Seamus and Patrick are sitting at the bar.  Patrick is asleep, with his head on the bar counter.)

Seamus (St. James):  Say, Paddy, now.  Wake up, you idjit. 

Padraig (St. Patrick)/Paddy:  Ah, Seamus.  Can ye not leave a good saint to a daecent sleep?

Seamus:  It’s yer people there, Paddy.  They’re at it again.  (Leaning over his pint, looking down on the velvet green)

Paddy:  Oh, Mother of God, is it that day already?

Maire (St. Mary):  Paddy, was it ye who called?  Oh.  (She looks down on Dublin.)  So.  Yer Irishmen are at the celebratin’ yer Holy Day.  The day ye up and died down there.

Paddy:  (Looking down) So it ‘tis, Maire.  And would ye look—Chicago has dumped green into ta rivers again!  As if that meant a ting, Lord help us.

The Lord God: (enters with angels singing and clouds billowing)  Was it ye, Paddy, that called m’name?  (Seamus and Paddy vacate their pub stools immediately.)    David, here, be a good man, and pour me a glass of cider.

King David:  Aye, My Lord.  The best Yer Hands ever made, here Ye go.  Have at it. (David pushes the glass over to God, who has settled down on a stool.)

The Lord God:  So, Paddy, what’s troublin’ ye, up here in heaven?

Paddy:  Oh, it’s the Irish people agin.  They’re after celebratin’ my holy day with all sorts of carryin’ ons.  And it bein’ Lent, ‘tis a sad ting ta behold.

The Lord God:  (quaffing a satisfying amount of apple cider) Well, ye know, Paddy,  People ha’ forgotten jest what I did for them, sendin’ ye to Ireland.  They were a terrible mean group, worshippin’ trees and such, ‘fore ye taught ‘em about the Trinity.

  

Seamus:  Yer right, My Lord.  An’ Paddy drove out them there serpents, and done all them miracles.  Ye did right good work, there.  (Seamus pats Paddy on the shoulder, who nods and perks up a bit.  Maire sits down next to The Lord God.)

The Lord God:    ‘Tis my desire that ye shake the Irish up a wee bit.  Paddy, ye go down to yer holy wells—there’s one down near Clonmel I’m partial to.  Stir the waters up a bit when there’s a group there.  And, Maire, go to some of yer holy grottoes, and send some tears down the cheeks of yer image.  That’ll make the Irish think a bit.  I bet ye’ll see more pious Irish at Mass come Good Friday.

Seamus:  I’ll go along with ‘em, My Lord, jest to keep ‘em company.  (The three saints exit.)

The Lord God:  (watches the saints depart, and laughs softly) Ah, there go some fine saints.  Glad I made ‘em.  (He leaves the pub in a cloud of glory, with angels singing.  David gathers up the glassware, and hums “When the saints go marching in…”  Scene ends.)

If I have offended any, please forgive me.  I lived in Ireland, and have a different perspective. This is a re-post from March, 2011.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Beannachtai' na fe'ile Pa'draig!

St. Patrick's Day last year was made livelier by a blogfest, hosted by some inventive bloggers, led by Alexia Chamberlynn.  The creative stories and vignettes that followed were amazing and diverse.

If you would like to check out my entry, please click on the URL below!


http://thecontemplativecat.blogspot.com/2011/03/st-patricks-day-blogfest.html