Today I celebrated my first St. Patrick's Day. I'm not really Irish. I'm an about 1/8 cup Czech, a tablespoon of French Canadian, a dash of Swiss, and pinch of German, but Irish? Judging by the number of my Mom's freckles, we are enough Irish to justify a "right fine" celebration.
My Mom dressed me in this get up. Then started snapping pictures. She told everyone she finally caught a leprechaun.
Once again, she is not even Irish. Silly Mom ,it's just me. Annika Ruth. I played along because I knew it meant a lot to her. Between you and me, I find being mistaken for a leprechaun potentially insulting. People think leprechauns are nice because they are so little and have those cute shoes that curl up at the end. Find one in a trap, and you see their true colors. They are snarly, surly, and have bad breath. Or am I thinking of raccoons?
My Dad went biking for the day near Palm Springs. Unlike San Diego and it's weekend storm. There was no rain. It was dry as a desert. Oh, it was the desert. This weekend my Mom rode her bike in place and I jumped in place
and took a nap. It was great fun. My Mom can't complain because last weekend she spent an abundance of hours riding this.
She saw 4 snakes, 1 coyote, and a lot of Jack Rabbits but no Leprechauns