Yesterday I received a letter in the post from my parents. I decided to open it on the bus, and felt a little giddy to see a St Patrick’s day card enclosed. I smiled at the sweet gesture, but felt eyes on the back of my head.  A glance over my shoulder revealed an older man staring at my card with puzzlement and disgust. It only had a leperchaun dancing across a rainbow, but the man’s face read as if it said, “sorry I raped your cat” across the top.  St Patrick’s day is not something celebrated here.

I miss it.  The family parties, homemade Baileys, rediscovering that corned beef is indeed delicious…abandoning my sister and her infant children at the side of the road during the parade to go get smashed in a sports bar.  Pure joy.

Anyway, it snuck up on me this year and I (surprise) feel a bit melancholy.  Most inspirational quotes I see imply that we make our own happiness.  That a positive mental attitude (PMA) and forging ahead with our own hopes and dreams drives satisfaction.  For most things, that absolutely has to be true.  However, there is no mindset that makes cooking two pounds of corned beef and drinking seven shots of Baileys on my own ever okay.  Imagine if I died and was found that way?  I’m sorry, but feck me, that’s grim.

If you are going to celebrate St Patrick’s day this year, I’m jealous.  I hate you a little, but please have a shot for me.  Send me a picture of your corned beef sandwich, your grandma passed out in the tub, or someone named Katie.

Mom’s Horseradish Sauce

Because I am in denial about a St Patrick’s day I don’t get to celebrate, I haven’t prepared a recipe.  But, I have a neat one from my mom’s cookbook.  I didn’t get her permission to post this, but I think she stopped reading this blog some time ago for obvious reasons, so it is unlikely she’ll find out.