I am a wonderful combination of European backgrounds. I haven't run an ancestry check or anything, but I am at least half Swiss and a little over a quarter German. Heck, I'm even sure I've got some British Isles in there. But that comes in the form of English and Scottish. (The horror! I've been mixed!)
Irish? Nah. I don't have a whole heck of a lot of it.
I mean, I can do a mean Irish accent. But that's the extent of my association with the Emerald Isle. So on St. Paddy's Day, I'm a little displaced. What, exactly are we doing with ourselves when we aren't possessed of a massive amount of green in our wardrobe, nor are we really even sure why this holiday is celebrated? Let me show you.
(Note: Quiet, Church History class that I took that one time. I know it's to celebrate St. Patrick bringing the Gospel to Ireland. Details.)
1. Actively avoiding getting pinched
2. Speaking in a Scottish accent to tick all of the Irish people off
3. Desperately searching for anything green to wear
4. Wondering what actually happened with the snakes in Ireland.
5. Watching a lot of Lutheran Satire
6. Praying for the delivery of an Irish boy to my doorstep
7. Making potato pancakes because I'm German, dang it, not Irish!
8. Tackling every redhead I see, screaming, "Look, a leprechaun!"
9. Apologizing to my now slightly bruised roommate, who is most likely not a leprechaun.
10. Going to a St. Patrick's Day party and delivering William Wallace's freedom speech. On a horse.
11. Realizing just how seriously the Irish take this holiday as they take me up on that previous offer.
Scotland forever. Or Switzerland. Or wherever.