Luck of the Irish

I bet you didn't know I'm part Irish.

Funny story about that.

My family has claimed for years that we're Irish. So when I went to Ireland, I tried to find our coat of arms. In Ireland, I discovered that we were English. So, in England, I went to purchase our coat of arms and found out we were Scottish. In Scotland, I tried one more time only to be sent back to Ireland.

Seems no one wants to claim us.

Hm.

Regardless of my current lack of arms - as in coat, not limbs - I still think I enjoy the luck of the Irish.

On St. Paddy's day, I sat cross legged on my coffee table sipping homemade lemoncillo. My stomach was full of chicken, paella, harira, rice balls, spanakopita, and om ali. To my right Tara leaned back into the cushions of the love seat, Holden asleep in her arms. Sarah sat to her right, her stomach finally announcing a little boy or girl. Jen was straight in front of me, a glass of petite sirah and a camera in her hands. To her right, Anne was curled up on the end of the couch explaining how to make lemoncillo while Dolly perched on a chair, legs crossed, leaning forward.

In my tiny dining room the Chrises, Josh, and Anthony talked movies while drinking beer. Kids ran past from the garage to the bedrooms. Light sabers, Scooby Doo, princess dress, plastic shoes, and requests for more rice krispie treats filled any empty space.

Joseph walked up to me, leaning over. "I don't think anyone's watching the movie."

"Just leave it on, baby. It's so quiet in there, the movie will make great back ground noise."

He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. The house was far from quiet.

As he ran away followed by Elizabeth smacking her lips which glistened from gloss Jen had put on them, I realized yet again what amazing friends I have.

I'm a very, very lucky Irish lass.

Or Scottish.

Or English.

Someone somewhere will claim me sometime.