May The Road Rise Up To Meet You....

Whenever we travel, and are heading home, Mistah makes us play "Top Ten". "What are your Top Ten moments from the Vitamin D Tour?" he might say. "Top Ten" is similar to "High Point, Low Point", in that one thinks about and qualifies moments, but it's different, because instead of having to come up with just one high point, you have to come up with ten overall points. (Um, duh). It's actually a great way to remember days that might instead run together and grow fuzzy. Plus, it's fun.

A different version of "Top Ten" is remembering where we were, during our years on the road, on specific dates and holidays, like birthdays and Christmas and New Year's. And St. Patrick's Day. Happy St. Patrick's Day! In honor of this illustrious day, let's take a stroll back in time, shall we? And revisit those random places where the Mistah and I have celebrated our mutual half-Irishness.

2001: We were in the Florida Keys for several months when we first started traveling, and the day before St. Patrick's Day in 2001 we made an unexpected trip to Miami with a couple of friends. Where we immediately crashed the Biltmore Hotel pool in Coral Gables. I traveled to Miami a lot, and stayed at the Biltmore a lot, during my prior work years; I knew my way around that joint. I also got to go to a fancy party that evening. My poor boys didn't, but I brought glasses of champers and plates of food to them out by the pool. Of course I had a fancy dress to wear! We made a point to travel with fancy (well, fancy enough) clothes in our Westy, for just such a moment (Dress, sadly, not pictured. Too bad, too, because I looked good).

2002: This isn't St. Patrick's Day either -- it's a couple of days before. Why do I have so many photos of St. Patrick's Day Eve? We were at the Key West Airport, picking up my sisters Mary Beth and Julie, who'd rented a house in Key West for a week with their respective beaux . . .

. . . and who invited us to park the Westy in said rental house's driveway. What a treat! For us, sure, but for them? Oh yes. On St. Patrick's Day proper we went to Irish Kevin's on Duval Street. Of course we did. Those guys walked; Mistah and I rode our bikes. And Julie and I ran together at 7:30 the next morning.

2003: The day before St. Patrick's Day (natch) in Bahia de los Angeles on the eastern coast of the Baja Peninsula (called by many Americans -- but not by me -- the Bay of L.A.) I'll tell you one thing about Mexicans: they are an awesome, warm, friendly people. I'll tell you another: they don't give a hoot about St. Patty's Day. Not a whit.

They do, however boast the cardon cactus, which is the tallest cactus in the world. And I love Mexican beer, so all was forgiven.

2004: Down one kidney, we found ourselves in West Texas, in Big Bend National Park. The West Texans care about St. Patrick's Day almost as much as the Mexicans do. But Big Bend's got incredible beauty, and awesome hiking trails, so all was forgiven then, too.

2005: Back in West Texas. Why, oh why do we spend so many St. Patrick's Days in places that don't care about St. Patrick? Or the Irish? Or celebrating both? We had a lovely cook-out with Donna (who we'd met in Big Bend the previous year) and her kids, though, at the Davis Mountains State Park right up the road from our house in Fort Davis, so, well, all was forgiven. Donna and her daughter Holly both have green eyes; that helped.

I've always thought my niece Chapel Hill Girl should marry Donna's son Hayden. I've really got to introduce those two.....

2006: Gold Head Branch State Park, in the north central ridge of Florida (where, astoundingly, there are hills, yes hills, in Florida) . . .

. . . where finally, finally, we made our own party. With two kinds of Guinness. Extra Stout and Draught. And fabulous decorations.

2007: There was a giant snowstorm the day before (ahem) St. Patrick's Day in Hebron CT, and somehow I was out taking a stroll in in with My Girl Nancy. We'd driven to Connecticut from Florida for my aunt Uffie's funeral, and ended up staying a few weeks. Our unexpected and incredibly cool week-long dog-sitting gig in a fabulous apartment on the Upper West Side in New York City totally made up for a measly snowstorm, though . . .

. . . plus, when we woke up and looked out the window at Nancy's, we saw this . . .

. . . and this. One of my favorite Mistah Schleckah shots ever. Taken on St. Patrick's Day.

2008: Back in Fort Davis, Texas (sigh). There was no party, there was no parade, there was no sing-a-long at the local Irish pub. Because there is no local Irish pub. So we had a picnic in the Davis Mountains instead . . .

. . . and marveled at spring in the desert, cholla cactus style.

2009: Finally, we landed at a place where people care about St. Patrick's Day. Connecticut. Where we have fabulous memories of this most excellent holiday when we were kids, which were so beautifully and hilariously articulated by Jacquie last year.

And, specifically, New London, where we now live, where there's a parade, resplendent with our own New London High School Marching Whalers.

. . . and where I am an employee. At our local Tavern. Where the peeps drink all the day in true, admirable, over-the-top fashion. I had never worked in a bar on St. Patrick's Day before last year; it changed me forever.

And today? I'm doing it again.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!