The shoemakers, cookie makers, luckifers (bringers of luck), and bankers. That's right- your banker is a leprechaun. Luckily, this is only in fantasyland. Last time I checked, there is no widespread elfism in Ireland, either.
Nevertheless, tradition and the liquor companies of the world make St. Pat's day into a federal affair. Yes, and yesterday, we dropped Little Brother in Pottstown. If you need to know, I was wearing green- the little loopy for the ski tag on my coat. Pennsylvania food differs from hoity toity city haute cuisine- desert in a tablespoon!? Anyway, it's more German than Irish, and so is the mood. The Columbia Diner did not mention the day, and for supper at the Charcoal Pit, it was a sidenote by a nice waitress to a festive family.
After getting back home, the other three of us rushed to the White House to see the fountain, which was dyed green, a Chicago tradition. The same thing that was done on the Chicago River- dye it green- was brought over by the First Family. It had a tint of green, but not a lot. Naturally, what nation would want a green monster in front of their president's residence? But it was surely festive enough. The large crowds of revelers would dissent.
And naturally, St. Patrick's Day (if it's on the 17th) marks 1 month until my birthday. So the countdown begins.