Living in a small mountain town in the middle of the least populated state in the country, could easily leave me with much to desire come holiday time. However, the opposite is true. There are holiday events in place in this town that are out-of-this-world fabulous! Thanksgiving (Pilgrim’s Progressive) has grown into a much celebrated faux-family feast that lasts for several days. The holiday-sweater-red-neck party is tons o fun. Easter has been a blast filled with egg decorating contest and then an all-out egg hunt where elbows have been known to be thrown and electric fences activated. Birthdays are hysterical, and our baby shower was off-the-hook. We are uber-fortunate to have the friends we do that have all shown up in this hiccup of a town at this very moment.

One event that has been off-the-charts in the past is St.Patrick’s Day.

When I moved here, it was blatantly obvious that there was a horrible lack of Irish cheer come this sacred holiday. I vowed to change that as quickly as I could say “cockles and mussels alive alive o”. I treat the day with the dignity and honor and respect that I feel it deserves. First thing in the morning, I move the shamrock plant to center stage on the kitchen table. I bring down the leprechaun snowman that my Aunt Ree gave me when I bought my cabin, and the little shamrock candle holder that my Aunt Nep sent in a housewarming package. I then prepare the green shamrock pancakes and cream my coffee with baileys. Put the corned beef in the dutch ovens and one in the slow-cooker right after breakfast. Although I’ve had to work each St.Patty’s day that I have lived here, I have afternoon pints of Guiness while typing away on my computer. Pandora station fluctuates between a variety of Irish music stations. Prepare the soda bread mid-afternoon. Add the potatoes and carrots to all the corned beefs…and then the cabbage a wee bit later.

Waiting for hooligan arrival

Hooligans typically show up around 6:00pm. There have been as many as 25 revelers for the event. Everyone arrives with a 6-pack of Guiness – all of them are gone by the end of the evening. Car Bombs usually begin about 6:01pm, and don’t seem to stop until…well…I’m not sure when they stop. We jig. The fellas get whiskey drunk and feisty. We are full of good cheer and love for each other. All of the food gets devoured. There are no crumbs left of the soda bread as they are all used to sop up the broth in the pots. It gets loud. It gets rowdy. It is one of my very favorite days.

Three corned-beefs stewing
Car Bomb Counter

Last year I was pregnant. Of course I threw the event, but could not participate in the car bombs. I distinctly remember when I discovered that St. Patty’s was going to fall on a Saturday this year. I was ready to throw a weekend long festival. Turns out I am pregnant once again and most of our party-goers are out of town this weekend. A friend in town is throwing a party that is a horse of a completely different color tomorrow night, and we will be going to it.

It will be our first non-comeallya St. Patty’s since I got the cabin. So last night, we celebrated a mini-st.pat’s.  Just one batch of corned beef and cabbage, just one loaf of soda bread, just one 6-pack of Guiness, and one bottle of Irish whiskey. Frank, Joe, and Cza Cza came to feast with us. Critter ate the potatoes and carrots and some soda bread. The fellas each had a car bomb and some extra whiskey. Pandora was busting out some favorites. The shamrocks, the snowman, and the candle were on the table…it was a grand event, I did have a Guiness.

I am grateful that we were still able to share our celebration with a quaint few, but I am no way ready to give up the hosting the hulabaloo in the future.

This year’s feast
Just one little loaf

Here’s to St. Patrick’s Day 2013!

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