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[bloom_within]

Where's your green? People always ask. Do I really need it? I say. I mean, come on.I am a big hypocrite on St. Patrick's Day, and kind of a dick (girls can be dicks). I never remember what day it is or who St. Patrick was. It's been a few years since we've boiled cabbage and corned beef on the 17th of March. And yet the day, somehow, rightfully

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[greyheaven]

I forgot, too. Until I was biking home at eleven-thirty and a man in kelly green went barreling across my path, screaming "HABBY SADE PADDY'S DAAYYYY" and crashed into some bushes.

Holidays!

[blinkingcursor]

I love that photo of your grandma Virginia. I was always told I looked quite like my grandma, too, the one who just died. We were the only blonde ones, strangely, in a whole family of Dutch people, and I am the same height/weight she was at 24, when she married my grandpa (And, I just found out that SHE asked HIM. That even sounds gutsy in 2010, doesn't it? He kept that secret til her death) Anyhow, I think having the outward manifestation of certain genes makes you more aware of them, and perhaps more proud.