A Post Almost as Good as a Four-Leaf Clover.

And, in honor of the day, I give you 5 Reasons to be Excited About Being (even a little bit) Irish.

1. You get to be super annoying on St. Patrick's Day. Not that it makes a difference, since apparently "everyone's Irish." (I don't think that's very fair...)
2. You get to wear green...yeah this is a good thing I'm pretty sure.
3. You get to get to be mean to people who forgot to wear green and viciously pinch them multiple times, even if the only reason they weren't wearing green is because they'd just gotten out of the shower and were wearing nothing but their bathrobe, which was unfortunately blue...Yes, this happened to me this morning and yes, I'm pretty bitter!
4. You get to go around saying things like "Everyone loves an Irish girl!" and "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" without sounding arrogant or scandalous. (Well...that's my take. Dad still isn't thrilled with this idea.)
5. All in all, you just get to claim awesome status for a day just because your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was born on the Emerald Isle. (His name was Patrick Finn. Awesome right?)

Someday I'm going to go visit "the homeland," even though I'm really just more American than anything else. But in this world of everyone being excited about their heritage, this is all I've got. So I'm gonna flaunt it today--with my Irish eyes a-smilin'!

PS--The story of St. Patrick is one of my favorite of all time. For a fun, informative take on it, I absolutely LOVE this video. Yes, it's from VeggieTales. Which in my book just makes it cooler. :)

The Inevitable Post, in which I give more information about my wisdom teeth than anyone ever cared to know.

I got my wisdom teeth out about three weeks ago--let me tell you, it was not what I expected. They gave me laughing gas to calm me down before they put in the IV., but was did I relax? Of course not. I tried and tried, breathing in like there was no tomorrow. All it did was muddle my brain into thinking there really was no tomorrow. And so, embarrassingly, I sobbed in front of 5 dental technicians (one of which just couldn't shut up about what exactly they were about to do to me. I am still rather bitter toward thsi woman.)
I vaguely remember waking up...getting in the car...trying to tell everyone I was okay. And no, the anesthesia did not make me happy. It was pretty much just a repeat of the laughing gas episode.
Anyway. The first three days were not fun. Thankfully though, toward the end of Day 3 I fell asleep during Frodo's quest to destroy the ring--and woke up feeling a million times better. (I like that movie so much more now!)
Finally, on Day 4 I got my appetite back--but not the function of my jaw. So I was applesauce girl for about 12 hours until at last I thought of "real food" I could eat--Chinese! Never have I been more thankful to China. I am firmly convinced that it quite possibly saved my life.

More things I learned form having my wisdom teeth out:

There are some movies that are just amazing no matter how many times you watch them. (Example: Phantom of the Opera, which I watched twice within 4 days.) On Sunday, Day 5, my Gram brought me some lo mein and we found You've Got Mail on TV. Oddly enough, I think this may end up being one of my favorite memories, awkwardly chewing Asian noodles and watching Meg Ryan fall in love with Tom Hanks (again), just hanging out with Gram. I re-fell in love with that movie, and now Lindsay and I quote it almost religiously. We feel the same way about You've Got Mail as Tom Hanks feels about the Godfather. "The Godfather is the I-ching. The Godfather is the sum of all Wisdom. The Godfather is the answer to every question--'what should I pack for my vacation?' 'Leave the gun, take the cannoli.' " Etc, etc.

My family is really, really nice. Like, really, really nice. Who else would have retrieved applesauce from the local Kroger for me at 9 pm? That's right, my dad. Not to mention everyone who selflessly brought me ice packs every 20 minutes and my wonderful mother who woke up in the middle of the night to give me medication--2 nights in a row. (She said it was like having a newborn again. Ha. Ha.)

I am in love with Jimmy Stewart. My dad made me rent "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" from the library and promised me I would love it. And I did. A lot. Needless to say, if Jimmy were still alive, he would find more than a couple love notes in his mailbox. Sigh. He was wonderful. Not to mention handsome.

The best thing I learned, though, is this--I never have to do it again! :)