Happy St. Patrick's day to one and all. We normally hunker down to avoid the drunken masses and are doing so again this year, shutting ourselves off from the red-eyed hordes who dress in, and vomit, green. I (correctly) lump St. Patrick's Day in with New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day -- Amateur Hour. For the hard-drinking, festive stalwarts among us there is no need for a manufactured holiday - the behavior exhibited by the multitudes today we just call "Tuesday". [As one of my hilarious yet less charitable (and French) friends said in college, "Happy be poor, eat potatoes and starve day."]
I, for one, happen to like the Irish. They share a lot in common with the Polish. Or as I have been known to say, "The Irish are the poor man's Pole." Both groups have bad cuisine, drink too much, tell stories, get in fights, are fiercely loyal and predominantly Catholic; but the Irish have that accent everyone loves and thieving little green men who horde gold and that seems to have given them an edge in the collective consciousness. What do we Poles have? Better looking women and a Pope. I'll take it...
All of that being said, here's a nice version of a traditional piece:
Had a good if subdued weekend up at Windham. Did some skiing on variable and, on Sunday, dangerously foggy conditions and enjoyed the last weekend of the season there, trying to get some turns in before we head to Utah in 2 weeks.
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