Not that we did anything remarkably Irish, or St. Patricks-y today. In fact, I'm drinking a margarita because it was the only alcohol we had in the house, aside from a bottle of Jack Daniels. It's been a long day, but not THAT long.
The kids are all asleep - the big ones are passed out about two feet to my left on the fold out couch and Katie upstairs in her bed after a valiant battle with sleep. Paul's bunked down in the woods somewhere near Ft. Bragg in South Carolina, so it's just me and Jose and The Lord of the Rings on what used to be the TV in the man cave. Used to be because our living room TV started flickering off. Paul didn't want to throw that TV out, but he also didn't want to get it fixed again, and neither one of us want to buy a new set right before we move (and while we had a perfectly functional one in the garage!) so the bigger one is sitting in the man cave and this little silver television that Paul bought for me during the ten minutes we were dating is in the living room. And it's smaller, but it's FINE.
So anyway, we had a Girl Scout field day this morning. I purposefully scheduled it to conflict with the annual Emerald Isle St. Patrick's Day festival...I mean, not really conflict, but enough that I could arguably avoid the crowds and everything that comes along with festivals. I hate to say it out loud because I feel like it makes me sound like some kind of grouchy recluse, or one of those terrible people who seem incapable of having fun ever at all, but GOSH I do not like festivals. See what I mean? It's like saying I don't like puppies. Or ice cream. Or joy.
Anyway, all that being said (and I do like puppies), we successfully avoided the crowds and overpriced tickets and terrible food, and had a fun time. We did our field day event, had lunch at Subway with the two other Brownies who showed up, played on the beach, went to a frozen yogurt bar, played at a rad park and went to see Oz the Great. Hello, awesome Saturday!
And, as usual, I have photographic evidence. Observe: