When my sister and I were kids we loved to wake up on St. Patrick's Day morning because the Leprechauns would always come to our house the night before and turn the milk green. We had a ball drinking it on our cereal and it never occured to us then that green milk is not always a good thing. I will admit to being an amateur in far more areas than an expert, but growing up Irish means that there are certain inherant areas of expertise that come with the territory.
Talking. And talking, and talking, and talking. Trust me, we do not have to be drinking to be blabber mouths as the old cliche may have some believing. Just get us started on a subject and watch us go on forever. Most of the time we do not really care if the other person involved walks away while we are completing our thought, even if it takes a few hours. To really get me going, bring up why I think people over sixty five should have to take a driving road test every two years until age seventy when it moves to every year. Or perhaps the fact that music is censored on FM radio. All of you already know how I feel about Santa's Reindeer. Pretty much anything in between will do as well.
Passion. For good or bad it runs deep. This emotion can easily be turned to guilt, loyalty or love but in the end it is all just a fierceness buried so deep that it is almost impossible to control.
Story telling. We will do it with such a straight face and dead pan delivery it will be tough to tell if all the talking is just a bunch of BS. The fish really was this big.
Wit and timing. Go ahead, test me.
Tonight I will not be going out to take part in the festivities because I do not need the practice. Besides, my body is telling me I need sleep far more than a drink so two aspirin and a big bottle of water is how I will celebrate today.
I will leave you tonight with my favorite Irish quote:
May those who love us, love us; and those who don't love us may God turn their hearts; and if he can't turn their hearts may he turn their ankles so we will know them by the limping.