Luck of the Irish

Around these here parts, we wear our Irish heritage with pride on our sleeves. Well, my pale complexion speaks for itself, and the little guy’s rosy cheeks will make him a hit today (and all days, really, who am I kidding) with the ladies. Ain’t nobody needs to be pinching those cheeks. Except for me. I can do what I want.

Anyway, I decided to add a little fresh pop of green to the old apartment and what else could I choose?  Bells of Ireland!

Pretty, no? At $1.50 a stem, that’s a pretty nice little bargain.

It’s getting darn right springy in here! I kinda like to treat myself to fresh flowers.  To be fair, Kase treated me to some pretty daffodils, but I quickly realized they were actually a plant.  Upon this realization, the plant immediately died.  That is not an exaggeration. I don’t quite have the green thumb (much like my ancestors- hence, the potato famine).

I also got one stem of hydrangea along with one stem of the greenery- for about 5 bucks you get a simple little arrangement, like so:

And as a little treat for you on this fine holiday which celebrates my pale skin, here is a little story for you:  My last name is Hannan. With an “A”.  This is an important distinction in the old country apparently, as if you spell it with an “O” the lineage shows that you are royalty.  If you spell it with an “A”?  Not so much.  This was later validated when I planned a wedding that involved an Irish family. As in, they flew over from Ireland.  So I got to talking to the grandfather, as I often did at these events (little sweet old men just love me), and after not believing I was Irish at all, asked me my last name.  When I informed him, he grabbed my hands while yelling at me “Let me see those hands!” Turns out, not only are my people not royalty, we are known thieves. Horse thieves to be exact. Moral of the story? If I ever come over your house- check the silver when I leave. 😉


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