Happy St. Patrick's Day!

A holiday (well...not even a real holiday) that I have avoided for years.

Any day, holiday or not, with my *name AND a word pronounced *'bra' (braugh) is not even a bit welcome. Even after years of being a grown up, Erin-Go-Braugh, and Erin-Go-Braless are phrases I hate.

This year, however, thanks to numerous crafty blogs, the girls and I spit out years of repressed St. Patty's Day goodies.
Shamrock Rice Krispie treats, rainbow cupcakes and rainbow jello. My house looked a bit like Happy Gay Pride Day!
And...if St. Patrick can manage to drive all the snakes out of Ireland, well I guess I can manage to get my peas planted on time!

With the help of my own little Leprechaun!

The view from here.

I made great time on the trip to pick Teddy up from school last week.

Such great time that I had enough to spare to visit one of my favorite places on earth; Assateague Island.

Driving up the Verzanno bridge is a little daunting.

You feel like you could be on a road just destined to plunge you into the great unknown.

Each time I crest the bridge it never fails to take my breath away.

The bay, the ocean the marshes,and untouched forever vegetation.

Furry winter coated ponies waited this time on the opposite side of the bridge.

Escaping the wind no doubt, but one can always imagine they were there as greeters.

For the past few days my view on everyday things has been altered.

Walking up to the beach was supposed to be the mind eraser that I needed, but only served to act as a reminder.

It was hard getting up to the beach. Hard walking in the sand (especially with shoes on!), and I would like to fool myself into thinking that a speedy retreat to the car was from cold, and chilly ocean wind.

It won't always be cold. it won't always be windy. It won't always be winter. But without a knee replacement, sooner rather than later, it *will always hurt to get there.

It should make me feel a bit better that the doc was just as surprised as I was to have the xrays show significant arthritic damage in both my knees. It should, but it doesn't.

Do not pass go, do not get a brace, put the ice away, and thank the genetic factors that not only gave me a fat ass, but a "bad set of knees" as well.

So I will start my 40's with a new "Lieutenant Dan" knee. And a morphine pump. Hoping that I will soon be back to running my ass of chasing after these kids of mine :)

I am thankful that what ails me *CAN be fixed. So thankful. I just need a few minutes to have a bit of a temper tantrum. Without any kicking, of course.