The Health of the Hag

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I wrote my last post too soon. Afflicted we were, yesterday, yet again, with the untimely illness of Mr. Understanding. I was going to honor my favorite saint with a post but swabbing toilets took precedence.

St. Patrick’s was a low-key event. After the re-xraying of the fractured foot, Thing 3, Poppy and I lunched at O’Malley’s in the French Concession while Mr. U recouped in the Chamber of Doom. Poppy had the Ulster fry. The little lamb kidneys creeped me out so I had a steak sandwhich. O’Malley’s was decked out for a big party in the evening. Maybe we can go next year? At home we had a humble meal, a little of The Chieftains’ Irish heavenly harp music, and Irish coffees. I pulled out my little Irish Toasts book which we read before dinner. Things 1 & 2 read traditional blessings I’d handwritten for place cards for a party in 2001. Thing 3 read the following from the book:

“May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings,
Slow to make enemies,
Quick to make friends.
But rich or poor, quick or slow,
May you know nothing
But happiness
From this day forward.”

Thing 1 commented that she thought all toasts were made in homage of drinking, to which Thing 3 replied, “Oh, I can read one of those too.” She was aided by a picture of creamy Guiness. So herewith, a toast to publicans everywhere and good health to all. It seems appropriate after the last two weeks.

“The health of all Ireland and of County Mayo,
And when that much is dead, may we still be on the go;
From the County of Meath, the health of the hag,
Not of her but her drink is the reason we brag;
Your health one and all, from one wall to the other,
And, you outside there – speak up, brother!”

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