life on the fence: luck of the irish

i don't have a lot of vividly clear early childhood memories. i remember that i had a pretty good childhood, but i only have a handful of memories that haven't faded in the years since.

i remember when i was around 7 and my pet turtle crawled out of his tank and i thought he was lost. i searched all over the house for him and then cried myself to sleep on the floor of my bedroom, only to wake up the next morning and find him right next to me. i was so grateful.

i remember in third grade sunday school when this boy (who shall remain nameless) farted and i threw up on my purple jumper. the teacher had to get my parents from big church to take me home. i was so mortified.

i remember playing "alaskan wilderness" with my little brother in the backyard and in the creek that ran behind it. we would steal beef jerkey out of the kitchen and pretend that we were lost in alaska with some dried bear jerkey as the only food we had available. i loved that.

the memory that randomly popped into my mind today (st. patrick's day) is of my elementary school girlfriends and i huddling in a small patch of grass on the playground during recess. little clovers were scattered all over that patch and we would spend day after day looking for the elusive four leaf clover, convinced that if we found it our wildest wish would come true. i was so innocent.

i'm not irish so st. patrick's day doesn't mean much to me, but i do like to think of it as a jolly holiday - one where friends get together for a beer at the local tavern, where families line the streets for the annual parade, and where little girls huddle on a playground somewhere looking for their own piece of irish luck.