Green Beer. Although the concept of dumping food coloring into my beverage seems gross any other time of year, for whatever reason, on St. Patrick’s Day I’m always willing to chug.
Childhood Memories. When I was in elementary school, we were always told stories about leprechauns and finding their gold. I remember every year being mildly terrified of the idea that a small man was running around hiding stuff, but grew to appreciate the novelty of “hunting for gold”.
Step Dancing. Although I don’t do it anymore, St. Patrick’s Day always meant a step dance performance in Ireland, West Virginia. I would get so nervous, because I actually hated every moment leading up to the performance, but once I would get up there, my feet magically remembered every step. (I was much more of a practice girl.) It’s strange that even though I haven’t danced for five years now, I still get butterflies in my stomach right around this time of year. Some day I’ll get the nerve to post a picture of me in my costume, but today’s not that day. Just picture me with a stern face. That’s how we ALWAYS looked when dancing!