Pipes and Pints

When St. Patrick's Day actually falls on a Saturday, the usually rowdy celebration in Belle Plaine draws a bigger crowd than ever.  Add to that record breaking temperatures in the high seventies, and it was probably the biggest, loudest celebration ever.  I've no idea what they were cheering about, but there were roars and cheers still coming from the street party well after midnight.  Sometimes, living in the heart of downtown isn't quite so charming.  Ah well.  We only do a couple of street parties a year, and by Sunday afternoon, someone had cleaned up the beer cans that were abandoned in my yard, so no real complaints from me.

This year, I walked down to the church, so I could walk back along the parade route listening to the bagpipes.  Of course, I forgot my camera, but lucky for me, the March of the Clans ends in front of my house, so as we arrived, I ran in quickly to grab it.  Just missed catching them in formation, of course, but you wouldn't believe I took the picture if I ever caught the money shot, now would you?

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I do love bagpipers...er bagpipes!



I think the Fogartys draw the biggest family crowd, though since no one checks pedigrees, I know they fill the ranks with a lot of Polish in-laws.  Heck, they've made me an honorary member of the clan, despite my Scottish ancestry.

Oh, look!  There's our favorite carpenter.  I'm pretty sure T.C. drives the truck that pulls the trailer to get out of any expectation that he wear a kilt.  I bet it would look cute with the tool belt.



Though not the tour bus of forty-plus that visited me a few years back, the Whitlocks made a showing this year.  Name sound familiar?  Their grandaddy, Friend J. Whitlock, Jr., built my house.




Whitlocks, significant others, and the clan mascot, Katie-boy.




Katie-boy, named for a departed sister (apparently she would approve of this honor), Pat (I do hope I got that right), Jim, and Mary.  Their daddy's boyhood bedroom is the room I'm sitting in right now, typing this blog post.  Wonder if it's his ghost who occasionally hugs me, giving me cold, though not unfriendly, chills. 

 I gave several house tours that day, a couple, like the Whitlocks, were scheduled, a couple were surprise knocks on the door.  A neighbor who grew up across the street in the 1940's was the first surprise.  She knew Friend's daughter Mary, who inherited her aunt Dorlisca's house next door, and told me a little more about this remarkable woman, who was not only an outspoken feminist, before the idea existed, but a kind, compassionate soul.  My other surprise tour was a woman whose sister had saved the recent newspaper article, and had said she should see if she could find the house.  Since they had lunch at the Sparetime, right across the street, it wasn't too hard to track me down!  She was sweet, and I have to admit, it felt a little like being famous!  How fun.

Don't know this cutie's name, but I bet the daddy looked just like this several hours later!

So, now back to the work week.  Today I taught a ten year old an art lesson, and drew a rabbit.  Tomorrow I glaze a ceiling, then through the week, there are some walls to splash paint at, a mosaic fireplace to repair, and an eight foot tall Eiffel tower photo to turn into an altered art piece.  There are a couple of details to add to some book illustrations, and a couple of color consultations, in the mix, too.  Pretty much what I did all weekend, when not ogling bagpipers and giving house tours, but this I get paid for.  Hope your work week is as pleasurable!