Jenny On the Spot

Happy St. Patty’s Day! Have you been given the gift of eloquence? Perhaps you are known for your flattering tongue… or your clever wit. If so, it may be you’ve been making out with the Blarney Stone. Mwah!

I’m wearing that thar shirt today. That person in that shirt - it’s me. You can’t pinch me! Nee-ner.

I like that word, “Blarney”. Don’t you like saying that word? I think it’s because of the way it rrrrolls off the tongue… especially with a pint of Irish lager coursing thorough yer blood stream. Aye. Do the Irish say, “Aye”? If they don’t, they should.

I’m part Irish. I can TOTALLY say, “Kiss me, I’m Irish”. But I don’t, ’cause I don’t usually invite kisses… unless I am tenderly holding a picture of the Blarney Stone. BUT, if ya ever want to say “Kiss me, I’m Irish.” IN Irish, go here. Aye. Maybe I’m confusing the Irish (my peeps) with Pirates. Arghh.

Lookie here! My daughter, Olivia, found a four-leaf clover yesterday. Lucky! She’s 5. I’m 35. I’ve NEVER found a four-leafer! However, I have been stung by a bee looking for one. It would seem the “Luck of the Irish” did not make it all the way to me. It would seem my ancestor’s kept it all for themselves.

I probably came from Leprechauns.

How cruel! I remember it like it was yesterday… Cute little Leprechaun part-Irish Jenny, looking for a lucky Shamrock… looking intently on skinned little Leprechaun part-Irish knees… and BZZZZZZZZT! Poor thing. Luck shcmuck. Look… now I’m Yiddish.

Let’s close with an Irish Prayer.

For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

Go Green!

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