Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Though Michael is Portugues, he is willing to wear a green shirt and drink green beer on this wonderful day when we tip our hats to the Brit that drove out the snakes in the souls of the Druid Emerald Islanders. But I couldn't find his green shirt anywhere. So, I figured he could just as well wear his orange shirt. It's part of the Irsh flag. I'll wear green, he'll wear orange, and we're white, so we're the Irish flag. That seemed Irish enough. But when we walked through the front door to work, the old reception screeched out something about NOT wearing orange and nuns and being Dutch...um, wait, what? It got under Michael's skin, and he joked that it sounded like something a Protestant would say, hehe. And son of a B if I didn't google it and it WASN'T a little known fact that Protestants will wear orange on St. Patrick's Day to show they are not Catholic. Well I'll be darned if any husband of mine will be considered a Protestant by any stranger that probably doesn't know that! I quickly cut a large shamrock out of green construction paper, wrote Happy ST. Patrick's Day on it and literally stapled it to the front of his shirt. But it just didn't sit right with Michael, and sure enough he disappeared for half an hour from his cube, snuck out and went to his parent's house and found a green shirt. He said he just couldn't bear for anyone to think he was a Protestant. And God forgive me I laughed out loud.
