Friday Faves: "I'm not Irish ENOUGH to celebrate" Edition

One of the drawbacks of social media is the fact it has lead to what I like to call conspicuous parenting (slight nod to Thorstein Veblen).  I will not lie.  I know that I have participated and probably will in the future.  It is simply what is done.  St. Patrick's Day is tomorrow.  I lamented to my husband that I felt like a bad mother because I have no plans to do ANYTHING to mark the holiday tomorrow.  Others on Facebook seemed into the spirit for the sake of their kids.  Not me.  There will be no leprechaun footprints.  No gold coins.  No rainbows.  No crafts.  No cabbage.  No beer.  

Well.  

Maybe I can arrange for beer.  

In sharing this with my husband he says, "We're not even Irish.  We don't celebrate."  I then pointed out that while I am not Irish, his Native blood has been spiked with some rogue Irish grandparents on both sides.  He then said, "I'm not Irish enough to celebrate!" 

I found this exchange delightful.  I love my husband.  He can be very charming.  

In face, earlier in the week he saved a bad day from certain disastrous melancholy by bringing home a bag of old postcards that he purchased at a flea market.  This look into the past stirred some strange longings for a simpler time.  A time when the post office would deliver a post card with only the name of the recipient and a town.  No address.  No street.  Simpler times.  But then after perusing what was written on the cards, I realize that these postcards are the old timey version of Facebook and/or Twitter.  I realized that humans have always had this need to share the minor details of their lives with others.  One hundred years ago it may have been news of the cow having milk fever.  

It is like Tobias Fünke's ancestor wrote holiday card copy.

Simply frightening.

Text:  Trimmer, Cal.
This may give you some faint idea of the sort of looking object who
writes to you--and also a hint as to who told me about you.
Excuse scrawl--Have an injured hand.
Kindest regards,
Alan

The front of Alan's card:  "No. 2 Yours truly"

But my favorite moment of the week was watching my son read from The Hunger Games and choose with his own free will to ANNOTATE THE TEXT with his thinking. 

I 

am

so

proud.

Interacting with the text.  heck yeah and stuff.