Okay, so I LOVE St. Patrick's day.
No, I'm not Catholic.
No, I'm not Irish. Heck, I'm not even MARRIED into Irish. My last name is Craig, but it's the Scottish Craigs that my husband's family comes from- and HE'S adopted. LOL.
However, I'm 99% Scandinavian and 1% Native American (just enough to make me dark instead of fair), and I'm sure I have plenty of Viking ancestors in there who raped and pillaged the Irish, thus leaving my mark on Ireland herself.
Honestly, I brought this all on myself. I'm the odd one out in my family. My parents and my siblings kind of roll their eyes when I get giddy about this. Until I was married, I had never had corned beef or cabbage.
However, from second grade on, my dream was to live in Ireland. I loved it. I still do. Everything about it. I studied it, it's history, it's lore, and I am still as in love as the day I discovered it.
In high school, I joined an Irish dance group Rinceoiri Don Spraoi (Rin cory don spree- It means "dancing for fun" in Irish-Gaelic) and brought my friends with me- my sister in law too, though I didn't know we'd be related then. It didn't take long before we were on the performing team, and we made our way to our first Scottish Festival.
Okay- Scottish Festivals are AWESOME. They always have excellent brewed root-beer, lots of booths about how to find your lineage and family crests, places to buy awesome things like fairy and dragon charms, sometimes Pagan booths and of course, there are Scottish games, like the caber toss.
But NOTHING beats the mass bands. Bagpipes, drummers, all marching, pleats swaying, drumsticks and mallets flipping and spinning...it gives me the chills. It's so haunting. And completely drool-worthy. Mmmmm. Boys in kilts.
Brandon has a canvas utility kilt, and he wore it there, but I didn't take any pictures. I was too busy taking pictures of the pipers. He needs a REAL kilt (traditional 8 yards. GOOOOOOOO PLEATS!!!!!!!!!) in the Craig tartan. I am SO starting a fund right now.