Top O' the mornin' to ya!

I can hear the bagpipes warming up outside my window on 42nd street in the heart of Manhattan. We hear a lot of people shouting and cars screeching, but the shrill blast of the bagpipe, now that's something you don't normally hear in the middle of a metropolis!

Ahh, St. Patty's Day...a time for all those, Irish or not, to drink green beer and act like fools for no other reason than, well, they can. As a child it was all about pinching folks who forgot their green, but as an adult I'm more concerned with pinch the bar stool from folks who go to the bathroom. Now you know no one really knows anything about St. Pat himself, except that he was apparently a heavy drinker, which is of course the source of his popularity.

Sweetpotato is so Irish I think his blood might run green under that pasty freckled skin they have (and I love every little bit of that pasty skin, just so you know). My God, he thinks today is some sort of national holiday and called me a traitor for going to work. Not to worry though, he'll be over it by his third Guinness. You gotta love that Irish memory - long on drinking songs, short on actual events.

So, whatever your descent, I hope this afternoon finds you with a pint in your hand and a smile on your face.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!