Somehow I managed to cram all the St. Paddy's Day festivities into last night. Well, I didn't have a parade or anything, but in eager anticipation of drinking the Guinness stout ale and not being able to wait another moment, I went ahead and had the corned beef & cabbage last night, and watched Darby O'Gill & the Little People in its entirety.  (And I actually watched it, too. I thought I would just sort of have it on as background noise, but the next thing I knew, I was drinking my Guinness and staring, well, not in a stupor, per se, but quite peacefully at the TV screen.) (We now have a large HD flat screen TV in the bedroom, so part of my enchantment was watching this strange little 50-year old movie in jaw-droppingly crisp digital imagery; leprachauns & all.)

Anyway, there I was, having the best little time on the bed with Fluffy, when Mike came home & went straight into the kitchen and, as is his custom, began picking at whatever was on the stove. He called out to me, "Is it St. Patrick's Day aleady?"

I said, "No."

Then he was suddenly shouting, "Mami, that meat is so fucking salty! Jesus, what the fuck did you do to it?" But then it was like he caught himself, stopped in his tracks, and in this incredibly gentle, nice tone, he said, "I mean, you did a really good job, honey, it's just, well..." and his voice trailed off.

I thought that was so funny. Me thinks I must have a reputation for not taking criticism of my cooking too well! ha ha.

But actually, the corned beef is really salty. It's supposed to be. Cause you got to eat it with the rather bland boiled potatoes and cabbage, so it evens out. Anyone knows that! And then you also have to allow for the intensely bitter Guinness to knock the hell out of your tastebuds...

Okay, so there we have it! St. Patrick's Day -- a night early. I guess today I'll actually get some work done around here. God knows, I will not sit through another viewing of John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara in The Quiet Man for the millionth time. Even I have my limits.