It’s St. Patrick’s Day here, which is mostly a holiday to drink beer and/or pinch people depending on your age. I don’t really like beer, nor will I be pinching any of my new workmates, so I think I’ll just celebrate by eating some corned beef and cabbage. I have been kissed this morning, but not specifically because I’m Irish. Brian probably needs to do it again until he gets it right. I am wearing the requisite green, and maybe you could argue that my brown belt is orange-ish for Northern Ireland, where my family is from (yeah, it’s a stretch).
I feel like I’ve been living in holiday world lately. First it was Pi day, 3/14. Which, if you really want a reason to binge on pie, is a lot like 3.14, which is the first three digits of the mathematical symbol Pi. I was listening to the cashier at the grocery store try to explain this to another woman in line, and she was totally unaware.
“Geometry or Algebra?” she said.
“Geometry,” I piped in. “It’s for calculating circle stuff.”
“Oh. I’m not good at math,” she said.
“It’s mostly just a great excuse to eat large quantities of pie,” I said. I didn’t mention that I’m also pretty terrible at math. I can tell you what Pi is, just don’t ask me to use it for anything.
After Pi Day is the Ides of March. Which is a holiday to post bad Caesar/stabbing puns. And today the rivers of Boston are running green. I’ll wish you a happy Palm Sunday and a happy Spring Solstice this weekend, and next we can all wish each other a happy Easter.
Who ever said there aren’t enough holidays in the world? You just have to be willing to celebrate the weird ones, I guess.