Ah, welcome back to Rebel O’Prince, and happy St. Patrick’s Day. I knew St. Pat figured into my family history somehow—no, silly, I’m not Irish, though I will accept kisses today—and last night I was trying to remember. It was on the tip of my brain, and then finally I got it: the church at which my parents were married, two days after Christmas just over 28 years ago, was St. Patrick’s, a small church (now dwarfed by a Marriott hotel) in downtown San Francisco. Another association: my cousin Leah’s birthday is today. Cheers! (And the birthday of Six Feet Under’s Mathew St. Patrick is, yes, St. Patrick’s Day. What are the odds?)
We going a-drinking tonight, Thom?
[By the way, the Google logo is looking pretty today.]
