Day 28: The Turkey Trotters.

Dear friends,

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On the 28th day of this month of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the family and friends who humored me by starting the day with a 5K.

It was a chilly 25 degrees and I must have asked each person in our group no fewer than five times if they were dressed warmly enough. Parker answered yes more than once then froze to death without gloves and a hat. (Told ya!)

Must be why he flew through the course. He placed 6th out of 67 runners with a very respectable 24:17.

I flew through dinner afterwards.

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And later, I’m going to fly through pumpkin cake and pecan pie.

A girl’s got to play to her strengths, don’t you think?

With gratitude {for one of the most memorable Thanksgivings ever},

Joan, who didn’t come in last (or even next to last) among her group, which is no small feat given she was the oldest of the six Turkey Trotters

A bit o’ Irish cheer.

Dear friends,

My St. Pat’s Day started early, ended late, and was chock full of Irish cheer.

I can’t remember the last time I saw so many people having a great time. Or wearing so much green. Even the animals were decked out.

I was jealous of this outfit. Next year I will plan better.

And I’m not sure what it takes to get an invitation to the roof party, but I intend to find out. Talk about a primo spot for the parade route.

Not long after I snapped this photo, the best street-side spots filled up. Six city blocks were packed like sardines.

Glad I’m not claustrophobic.

The more crowded it got, the more fun folks seemed to have. Check out this group:

There were floats galore. Two hours worth, actually. And lots of marchers. I haven’t a clue what these parade participants represent, do you?

A gorilla, a green-haired guy, Mario (?) and a gun-toting camo girl riding on a tatooed man — all splattered in blood. It made my brain hurt trying to ponder it all. I’m not that deep.

This guy was billed as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Clearly, they have cold beer in hell.

This one . . . I’m not sure. Three Humpmen of the Armageddon?

I had the most fun watching the spectators. There were plenty of sights to behold.

There’s nothing like a parade in a college town.  Something about the influence of carefree youth makes you want to kick up your heels and embrace the blarney, at least for one day.

With gratitude {for the opportunity to enjoy the best minor-holiday celebration ever},

Joan, who thinks she and Mr. Mom accessorized really well for the St. Pat’s gala

When Irish eyes are smiling.

Dear friends,

It’s a whirlwind weekend around our place, now that we live in America’s (self-proclaimed) best city for St. Pat’s Day. The celebration started two days ago and won’t end until late tonight. There’s a parade that I’m told will last two hours, follies, live music, free beer and pizza, two black-tie dinners and who knows what else by the time it’s all over.

Friday night I got to wear my $65 dress to a rather fancy affair.  I forgot to tell you about my gold sequined wrap that I bought to go with it. Both were a hit.

I’ll try to snap a few photos to prove why our new town is legendary for the Best Ever St. Pat’s celebration. The streets will be painted green, as will many of the faces, and I’m told St. Pat himself will make an appearance. There’s also a Queen of Love and Beauty, though I’m sad to say she’s a 20-year-old coed and not me. Still, it’s going to be a great weekend.

With gratitude {for spring holidays that give young and old a reason to kick up their heels},

Joan, who wishes you a light heart, heavy pockets, and the luck of the Irish on this most wonderful spring day