Last night I got in the St. Patrick's Day spirit. I drank a pint or two of Ale and regaled my wife with my philosophical musings. To wit, when I talk about being sprinkled in the woods, it is not, to my mind morbid. Far from it. I am at peace with the temporal nature of existence. I'd say, on the other hand, when I've awoken in the middle of the night with a feeling of dread--that's morbid; it's an anxiety wrought by this need to hold on to something that can't be grasped. You know, this all made a lot more sense when I was a bit tipsy. Plus I haven't even had a cup of tea yet.
Yeah, so what I'm trying to say, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Enjoy your corned beef and cabbage and the many days of sunshine that begin now.
Plus, for any of you keeping count, today we celebrate the 72nd year of a very special man in Bridgton, ME. Happy birthday Pop!