Tomorrow is Saint Patrick’s Day. The Irish honor St Paddy with much rip-roaring relish. And they always honor him in the GREEN. John is Irish. Tomorrow should be a day that he looks forward to with Irish charm and humor.
BUT..... owing to a mistake that his grandmother made when he was very young and impressionable John turns green at the thought of green. Granted his Irish grandmother thought she was doing something loving, and Irish, on that eventful day, but he spent most of the day hanging over the curb barfing when he should have been watching the St Paddy’s Day Parade.
His childhood psyche developed a green psychosis and he has spent the rest of his life trying to eliminate the color from his immediate world. There is one exception for the color. He loves greenery in the garden, and he loves trees.
He wont wear green, he wont sleep under green blankets, he wont sit in a green chair, he wont buy a green car, and most importantly he wont EAT ANYTHING GREEN unless it is the lettuce in a salad, or one of the few vegetables he can cover with YELLOW cheese sauce. When he first came to California and realized that ’green’ avocados actually hung from trees in neighborhood yards, and were routinely served in most restaurants, he gave serious thought to getting on the plane and going back to civilization ... civilization being the other coast where they don’t eat “Yuk, green things!”
Normally, because I am a loving, caring person, I honor his food fetish. I love avocados! I have a friend that has an avocado tree and he brings me bags of beautiful green avocados. But I never intentionally submit John’s stomach to the pain that a cut, ripe avocado can cause.
That is now a ’used to be’. John has crossed the line. He has taken my loving concern and abused it. Have you read his entry about my next birthday gift? If you haven’t here is the link:
This year I AM going to celebrate StPatrick’s Day like I have never done before. Tomorrow when he wakes up he will find that his coffee has a green tint, his shaving soap has a green glint, and his white socks have been dyed a lovely St Paddy’s Day green to coordinate with the green patina of all his tee shirts.
Later in the afternoon when he goes to have a Paddy’s Day beer with my son he will find green beer flowing out of the bottle. When dinner is served ’his’ mashed potatoes will be green, ‘his’ pats of butter will no longer be his favorite yellow, and the soda bread that I always make on Paddy’s Day will this year be a lovely green shade. I’m going to celebrate GREEN!
And when he comes to me tomorrow night full of apologies and “I’ll never go so far again’s,“ I’ll let him think that I’m sorry that I took such vengeance out on a trusting Irishman, and I’ll roll off to the bedroom and sexily call his name as I change into my new GREEN NIGHTGOWN.
Never underestimate the ability of a blonde. A blonde can see GREEN where other women would see red.
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