Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Luck of the (Not) Irish

At precisely midnight last night my AOL page turned green, with little shamrocks all over the place! It was kind of alarming. I’d spent the evening with my fellow residents at Ragdale, first touring the artists’ studios, then listening to the writers read—and eventually having one of those great conversations about...everything that you can only have with other artists. I was tired, but not sleepy, so I sat down at my computer thinking maybe I could get something done, opened my e-mail page, and—Yikes! Green! Clovers! It annoyed me the way my car doors lock about three minutes after I start up the engine annoys me. Who said I wanted that?

This made me think of my English mom, possibly the most mild-mannered person who ever lived, except for the fact that she loathed the Irish—and refused to allow us to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day when we were kids. She wouldn’t give any reason for this and, really, what acceptable reason could there have been, anyway?

Which made me think about how amused we all were when her grandson (my fabulous nephew), Sam, was born on St. Patrick’s Day and it became a day of celebration that she couldn’t possibly ignore.

Which then made me get over being aggravated with AOL for messing around with my screen because I decided to regard it as something they did especially for Sam’s birthday.

The weird thing is, it’s been green and shamrocky all day—but now, suddenly, it’s not. It’s still St. Patrick’s Day, as far as I know. So what’s that about?

In any case, this is the quality of thinking I am reduced to after two very happy and productive weeks of making stuff up at Ragdale. I meant to have one last happy and productive day today—but I pretty quickly saw that productive just wasn’t going to part of the mix. So I settled for happy, and allowed myself the pleasure of spending most of the afternoon reading Jane Hamilton’s When Madeline Was Young. (More on this in another post!) Then there was our Last Supper (corned beef & cabbage) and last conversation—extended, thanks to the balmy weather, to a walk to Starbucks, which was just closing. Undaunted, we headed for the Lantern for drinks among the St. Patrick’s Day revelers.

I always hate to leave Ragdale—such a lovely place, such amazing people. But,at the same time, wherever I am, wherever I’ve been, I’m also always glad to be heading home to my “real” life. How lucky is that?

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