erin go bragh

Okay, so I’m really not posting exactly on March 17. You really don’t think that a girl named Mary Eileen would have time on the exact holy day to sit at her computer, do you? Actually, my day isn’t as wild as it could be. It’s mostly a family day, where my siblings and I meet at any non-Irish establishment in the city. Non-Irish because St. Louis excells in St Patrick’s Day, and none of us want to mingle with all the amateurs who are out tonight. We eat, we have a few, and we raise a toast to my mom. And then, any other day of the year, we visit the hallowed halls of any of the several pubs in town that have an O’ in the name. Or a Mc. My favorite of these(and impossible to even get within a city block of today) is a lovely place in the Soulard area of town called John D. McGurk’s. McGurk’s is a music pub. And not a “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” kind of place. More a collecting for the widows and orphans fund for Sinn Fein kind of place. In fact, it is legendary for its music. Wherever I go in the world, if I find a music pub I would like to sing in(finding the pub is the problem. There’s never a question of my singing.), all I have to do is tell the musicians that I’ve sung at McGurk’s in St. Louis, and I have carte blanche. And there’s nothing I love more than sharing music in a real Irish pub. In fact, Tess Gerritson, who plays the fiddle, and I are thinking of forming an Irish equivalent of the Rock Bottom Remainders. Now all we have to do is convince Erin Hart’s husband Paddy O’Brien(one of my very favorite Irish musicians in the world–a legendary button accordian player whom I knew long before I knew Erin) to join in.
For now, though, I’ll just sing to myself as I return to my lovely fairie, who have astonishingly turned into quite a randy lot. Amazing how little time it takes to get back in the habit of writing love scenes after a hiatus.
So slainte, everybody. And may I share with you my favorite Irish prayer.
May those who love us love us,
And those who don’t,
May the lord turn their ankles
So we’ll know them by their limping.

eileenkathleen, the evil twins