Showing posts with label St. Patrick's Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Patrick's Day. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

12 Things You Might Not Know About St. Patrick's Day

Posted by: Ruth A Casie

In advance for St. Patrick's Day!

1. Saint Patrick ~ True Blue
Green became associated with St. Patrick’s Day in the 18th century after it was linked to the Irish independence movement. Saint Patrick was true blue through and through. His color was “Saint Patrick’s blue,” a light shade.

2. Saint Patrick Was British

Patrick may have been famous for introducing Christianity to Ireland in the year 432, but he wasn’t Irish. Patrick’s parents were Roman and lives in the Scotland or Wales.

3. The Irish Take Saint Patrick’s Day Seriously
No doubt about it. Saint Patrick’s Day is a big deal in his adopted country and is a national holiday in both Ireland and Northern Ireland.

4. Everyone in New Yorker City is Irish on Saint Patrick’s Day
New York City’s Saint Patrick’s Day Parade is one of the world’s largest parades. Since 1762, over 250,000 marchers have tramped the six hours up Fifth Avenue on foot. You can see green beer and green bagels along the parade route. If not marching you can catch people ‘the green.’ Some people are a bit more out there than others with green hair, green makeup and let’s not forget the shamrocks tattooed or temporarily tattooed almost anywhere you can imagine.

5. Chicago Does More Than March
New York has a parade, but Chicago has an event all its own. Since 1962 the city has been coloring the Chicago River with green dye to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. It takes 40 tons of dye to get the river to just the right festive shade!

6. It Used to Be a Dry Holiday
In Ireland up until 1970, Saint Patrick’s Day was strictly a religious holiday. Pubs were closed for business on March 17. But it was in 1970 that the day was converted to a national holiday. Since then March 17 has not been dry.

7. Size Doesn’t Count
New York may have its big parade and Chicago its green river, but other cities participate in their own way. From 1999 to 2007, the Dripsey, a cozy Irish village proudly told anyone who would listen that it hosted the Shortest Saint Patrick’s Day Parade in the World, 26 yards between two pubs. Today, Hot Springs, Arkansas claims the title. Its parade runs for 98 feet. Hmmm, to me that may be the distance to the bathroom.

8. Why Shamrocks?
According to Irish legend, Saint Patrick used the three-leafed plant as a metaphor for the Holy Trinity when he was introducing Christianity to Ireland.

9. Why Is It Called Corned Beef?
Corned beef and cabbage, a traditional Saint Patrick’s Day staple, doesn’t have anything to do with the grain corn. Corn refers to the large grains of salt, referred to as corns of salt use to cure the meat. By the way, while Ireland traded heavily in salted meat, the average people couldn’t afford it. It wasn’t until they immigrated to the United States where it was a low-cost meat that they could afford it.

10. Put It On My Tab
All of the Saint Patrick’s Day revelry around the globe is great news for brewers. Recent estimates say the total amount spent on beer for Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations will be about $275 million. And that’s before tips to pubs’ bartenders.

11. First You Say Its Blue Not Green and Now You Say Its Maewyn Not Patrick
Saint Patrick was born either in Scotland or Wales to Roman parents in 385 AD. His birth name was Maewyn Succat. He changed his name to Patricius after becoming a priest.

12. The Lingo Makes Sense
You can’t attend a Saint Patrick’s Day event without hearing “Erin go Bragh.” What’s the phrase mean? It’s a corruption of the Irish Éirinn go Brách, which means roughly “Ireland Forever.”

BONUS: But the Leprechaun Economy Is Thriving
Another little-known fact from Irish lore: Leprechauns earned the gold they guard. According to legend, leprechauns spend their days making and mending shoes. Hmmmm… I thought that story, the Elves and the Shoemaker was from the imagination of the Brothers Grimm.

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Shamrocked

Posted by: Joely Sue Burkhart
It's time to drag out your green clothes, leprechaun hat, and Guinness (okay, it's always time for Guinness but now you have an excuse)! St. Patrick's Day is just around the corner, and with it, the release of Shamrocked: An Anthology of Irish Shenanigans.

Join authors Cecilia Randell, Joely Sue Burkhart, Tabitha Barret, Serena Lindahl and C.A. Storm as they take you through tales of Irish love and folklore for St. Patrick’s day. There will be gods, immortals, gargoyles, creepy castles, ancient legends and, of course, a leprechaun or two.

My contribution is The Treasurekeeper. I've included a teaser below and I'm also running a giveaway on my Facebook page. Prizes include a Celtic-themed set of nail art from Color Street and three signed copies from Their Vampire Queen series.


The Treasurekeeper
Her Irish Treasures
Chapter One


In hindsight, partying my way through a string of bars to celebrate my divorce was probably not my smartest decision. In fact, it ranked up there with marrying the asshole in the first place. 
Bleary eyed, I rolled over in bed and cracked my head on something. Fuck. My head already pounded. Rubbing the bump, I blinked furiously, trying to make my eyes focus long enough to figure out what, exactly, was lying on the pillow next to me. Sadly, it wasn’t the bartender who’d been flirting with me last night. Somehow, I’d ended up in bed with a statue. A very ugly statue.
A two-foot tall gargoyle leered up at me. 
He had a huge, crooked nose, elongated arms, and massive hulking shoulders. His features were harsh and mean. Everything was too pronounced and overdrawn, from a heavy brow down to large clawed feet.
I picked him up, wincing at how heavy he was, and set the statue on the nightstand. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
I vaguely remembered seeing the statue behind one of the bars last night. Did I steal the fucking thing? I couldn’t even remember the name of the bar to take it back. Something Irish, I thought. Lucky’s. No, but it did have something to do with a clover.  
Shamrocked. Yeah, that was it.
I slid out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, concentrating so I didn’t stagger. My back itched as I walked across the floor, imagining the gargoyle’s stare. I wasn’t naked, but I still think he enjoyed the view of me in my tank-top and undies.
Stop it. I told myself with a firm glare in the mirror. It’s just a statue.
But I still dressed in the bathroom, dragging on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper.
Without sparing a second glance at the gargoyle, even though that meant not grabbing my glasses on the nightstand, I headed down the hallway to the kitchen. My best friend, Viviana, stood at the coffee pot, immaculate in an expensive berry-colored pencil skirt and knee-high leather boots. I couldn’t pull boots off like that. Not with my thick calves. But she was practically a giant at six feet tall and model thin, so she looked drop-dead gorgeous in everything. Her flaming red hair and perfect complexion only added to her appeal.
“Oh, honey.” She laughed softly as she handed me a cup of coffee. “You’re looking worse for wear today.”
I grunted beneath my breath and took a long drink, even though it was scalding hot. “I should have left when you did. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like death warmed over.”
“Are you doing okay? With everything?”
Everything—which described what my ex-husband had taken. Without her, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head. Hell, who was I kidding? If she hadn’t let me move in with her almost a year ago, I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have been able to survive another month in that toxic environment. “I might be penniless, but I’m free. As long as you don’t mind a moocher for a few more months until I get a nest egg built up, or I sell a nice commission or two.”
“You’re welcome indefinitely. I love having you here and I hate living alone.” Headed toward the door, she paused to give me a quick hug. “I mean it, Riann. Stay as long as you want. You’re the sister I never had and I’ve got plenty of room. I love seeing you stretch your wings, so thank you for letting me watch your art grow and expand with new adventures.”
My eyes burned, my throat constricted, and all I could do was bob my head and lean against her. But after nearly twenty years of friendship, she knew exactly how moved I was, even if I couldn’t say it. She kissed the top of my head and grabbed a leather portfolio on the counter. “Boss man will be in court all this week on a big trial, so don’t wait up for me.”
“I’ll sneak in a few hours at the diner this evening, but I’ll try to have something for dinner around nine or so. Does that work for you?”
“You don’t have to cook or clean or do anything.” She gave me a firm glare. “You’re my guest. I’ll eat at work so don’t worry about me, and don’t work crappy hours at the diner when you could be here, creating something beautiful.” Her phone dinged and she sighed. “That’s the car. I really need to go.”
“Have a great day, and don’t let boss man run you around too much.”
Shrugging on a long wool coat, she laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve got his balls in a vise and he knows it. He couldn’t manage to take a shit without me, let alone get to trial on time.”
She breezed outside and I watched from the window as the driver got out of the sleek silver sedan that screamed money, and lots of it, to open her door. She waved, slid inside, and in moments, she was gone. I turned around, propped my butt against the counter, and took a long sip of my coffee. With each swallow, I felt a little more human. In fact, the familiar itch started in the back of my brain that warned a new idea was coming in hard and fast. My favorite kind of inspiration. 
If I’d still been married, I would have squashed that feeling and tried to smother it. I didn’t have time to indulge in a hobby, as my ex called it. I had to work and keep the house in shape and get his dinner on the table by six o’clock. Just remembering pissed me off, and I wasn’t mad at him.
I was mad at myself for putting up with that bullshit for so long.
I’d allowed him to clip my wings and slip blinders on so all I saw was the safe little house, the boring corporate job, and the debits and credits on our balance sheet. None of which I cared about in the slightest. I didn’t care if we had a nest egg that would let us retire when we were forty. I’d hated my cubicle and the neat green patches of yard framed by invisible picket fences. I’d hated watching my imagination wither and die. I’d always loved painting, and while he’d never explicitly tried to forbid me from indulging in my art, he would make passive-aggressive comments that made me feel guilty. 
Yeah, I was obsessive. I got lost in my art sometimes. Hours might pass before I came up for air.
No, I wasn’t a professional artist, but only because I didn’t have the time to work. When I started a new painting, I wanted to finish it. I might work hours and hours on it. I might stay up all night, or burn dinner, or, God forbid, not even start dinner. 
Evidently his arms were broken and he couldn’t manage to help with dinner even one lousy night.
I slammed the cup down too hard on the counter and stomped back toward the room Viviana had given me. If I wanted to paint all day and all night, then that was exactly what I was going to do. 

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Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Wear Green, Eat Green, Think Green, Read Green!

Posted by: Linda Mooney
Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

If you're following "traditional Irish custom", you may be celebrating today by wearing green, eating some corned beef hash, and washing it down with a pint of green beer. But, just for a moment, think about your book collection. Your print books, I mean.

The reason I mention them is because I've recently had to throw away many of my old favorites that I'd had in storage. Unfortunately, the rats and other critters got to them and made a fine mess, as well as a few nests, out of them. What few volumes I could save are in poor shape, which made me realize something.

Yes, I love to hold a book in my hands and smell the pages. Nothing compares to the scent that wafts your way when you enter an old bookstore filled with volumes of used and new books. But, because of lack of space to keep them all in the house, I had to box up the majority of mine and put them away.  

Now that I'm retired, I decided to clear out the clutter at the storage facility, and that's when I discovered the travesty. Yet, all was not lost. I was able to download most of the ones I'd lost as ebooks. Most, but not all. Furthermore, I saved them on both a CD disk and my backup.

To me, an old book is like mental comfort food. Depending on my mood, I can now go back and find the one I need, and re-read it. Never again do I have to worry about losing it to pests. Or, worse, in a fire.

You've probably heard all the arguments regarding print vs ebooks. And although print will always have a special place in my heart, I'm glad there are e-versions as well.

Just something to think about.

So while you're out and about today doing your Irish thing (hey, everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day!), besides wearing and eating green, think green, as well. It won't hurt to start saving an extra copy of your most beloved stories in e-format. Learn a lesson from this old Irish girl, who also married an Irishman.

As they say in the homeland: May your home always be too small to hold all your friends.

(Bunratty Castle in Ireland, picture courtesy of the Travel Channel.)

* * *
Coming Soon! 

Every Battle Lord's Nightmare

Book 6 of the Battle Lord Saga
http://lindamooney.com/BattleLord.htm 
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