Happy St. Patrick’s Day to ya! The Fitzgeralds (get it? We’re Irish…wink, nudge) celebrated our first St. Patrick’s Day as suburban homeowners by being true joiners and helping out at the local parade.
Why yes, those are shirts that say ‘Marshal’ on them. Yes, I did wear it in public. Under a jacket.
We got up bright and early and joined Scott’s parents at the fire house, where the chief (my father-in-law, not the fire chief) was dressed to impress. His Loud Mouth pants certainly made it easy to direct traffic. “Look for the man in the rainbow pants. You can’t miss him!”Who me?
So basically, the military, fire departments and antique cars. As a former dancer who has danced in her fair share of St. Patrick’s day parades, I was a bit bummed we weren’t in charge of the marching acts!
When everyone was lined up we hustled over to the parade route so we could actually watch the parade. We really spent most of our time at the parade with friends and family. And we might have made fun of the terrible parade announcer. Note: do not ask if you can drink on the job while you are wearing a mic.
With the weather warming up (sporadically, at best) we are starting to see our people more often. It definitely feels like a light at the end of the tunnel of this long, cold winter.