Wednesday, 17 March 2010

The Luck of the (Scots-)Irish

We were engaged on St. Patrick's Day, 15 years ago. It was a surprise to me. I'd never given much thought to being married, never really considered wanting to be married--or for that matter, anyone wanting to be married to me. I'd even had proposals in my past, albeit of the casual, jokey sort (at least I think they were joking; no rings were presented, and I've always been extremely dense about relationship stuff), but still, marriage was not on my mind at the time. We went out that evening to a hooley, and during the course of events a question was asked, a ring was proferred, and an affirmative was given. (I would point out that this all took place beneath the phallic standpipe of the old water tower, the base of which is ringed with heathen idols classical statuary of gods and goddesses. Appropriate, that.) And that was 15 years ago.

I am wearing green today, but don't read anything into that; I'm very often wearing green. I very nearly chose an orange tunic dress for today, until I heard that there was apparently a move afoot to get pagans to wear orange on St. Patrick's Day in protest of some damned misunderstood something-or-other; that seemed like a bad idea to me, though I couldn't quite remember why (something-something-Orangemen-something-dark-side) until I found a link to this most instructive post which gives a concise explanation. Yeah. Symbols? They mean stuff. It is recommended to know those meanings before engaging the symbols. (For me, it meant nothing other than I like my orange tunic dress and wanted to wear it to be teh hawtness.)

In any case, Naomh Padraig brought about the conversion of Ireland to Christianity, officially at least; there are pagans aplenty in those lands to this very day, though of a modern sort. Some of my distant ancestors came from that part of the world, though I don't have sufficient information to say exactly how beyond the barest of details. I was a heathen child who was painlessly converted to nominal Christianity and happily deconverted in early adulthood. I won't be doing anything special to mark Patrick's day, as the old hooley no longer takes place and I have no desire to go sit in a bar and watch people swill down green-dyed beer and sing Danny Boy over and over. If we do anything to commemorate anything else pertinent to this date, that will be between us.

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