Kiss my ass; I'm not Irish.

This is truly an Americanized holiday. My friend from Ireland says there's no nationwide partying with green beer on March 17.

The dining hall served today, among other things: green rice, pistachio pudding, shamrock-shaped sugar cookies with green sugar on top, green cornbread, and green soft-serve ice cream. (For some reason, they had barbecue pork instead of corned beef and cabbage.) I had the pudding, even though it was green, because I like pistachio pudding, and it has been a while since they served it. I could have eaten my salad without lettuce, broccoli, celery, and cucumber, but it wouldn't have been much of a salad then.

I wear a uniform to work now, so there's little freedom of expression. (I suppose I could wear wild socks.) In previous years, I would proudly wear my orange shirt on St. Patrick's Day. I saw one student in a toned-down, nicely coordinated green and brown ensemble (blazer, sweater, tie, shirt, pants). I saw another student in a sportcoat that can be described only as "Yikes!" (Honestly. I exclaimed out loud when I saw it, and I quickly looked away, lest I burn my eyes.) It's a little late for today, but are you pondering what I'm pondering?

I think so, Brain, but where are we going to find orange socks our size?