Irish Blessing...sorta

May the road rise to meet you, 

May the wind be always at your back, 

May the sun shine warm upon your face, 

May the rains fall soft upon your fields, 

And, until we meet again, 

May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

I always wanted to be Irish. Mostly because I wanted a pot of gold, a unicorn, and three wishes.

Ireland always seemed so magical. People I knew who went there said it was horribly damp and cold, but they were just weak and missed the whole point of the place.

All growing up I wanted to go to Ireland, and poke around the craggy ruins of castles, and listened all day and night to Gaelic, and have some Irish boy follow me around because I was magically cute and irresistible. 

I was going to go, dang it! So I asked Dad if he knew anybody who lived in Ireland (I mean, Dad was famous. Surely he had friends in Ireland.) Dad replied in the affirmative.

I was ecstatic! This was it! My opportunity to go to Ireland! 

"Really???" I asked anxiously.

"Yeah!" Dad replied, a sly smile on his face.

"Who!?!?" I exclaimed, furiously stuffing my clothing into a black leather bag with gold buckles.

Dad smiled again.

"Enya."

If I wasn't so afraid of him, I would have kicked him in the shins.

One disappointment led to another when I asked Mom if we had any Irish blood. I recall her saying we only had a little. I was extremely disappointed, since I felt sure, down to my bones, that I was Irish. 

Had. To. Be.

Mom then proceeded to do the genealogy for our French Canadian ancestors, and I have wholeheartedly accepted them as my blood. I have even given all my children French middle names. I felt like it was important. 

But perhaps my Irish ancestors were sending me a message when they brought Leah to me on St. Patrick's Day...?

So, I will still say that I'm at least a little Irish. And that little bit of Irish blood I have has a sense of humor, and since I can't fully claim to be from the Emerald Isle, I have come up with my own form of an Irish Blessing. 

The French Canadian Curse.

May there always be raisins in your cookies.

May the spiders always leave a web at your eye level.

May your pantyhose always run 2 minutes before church.

May you step in your cat's cold vomit with your bare feet.

And until we meet again,

May you always have the ringing echo of my laughter in your ears.