Happy St. Patrick's Day!

St. Patrick's Day is one of those holidays that I feel pretty ritualistic about: Irish stew, Irish soda bread, green paraphernalia, green beer.  There can be no deviations from this formula.  Otherwise, enter Stage Five Diva Meltdown.

Last year I had to suck it up and choke down fake, frozen stew from a bag.  And you know what?  I still had a great St. Patrick's Day.

This year, my strongly held traditions were really thrown for a loop with an offer to head over to Chicago.  By some miracle Alex's schedule worked out so that he wasn't on call Friday night, and he didn't have a scheduled shift Saturday or Sunday!  This was so meant to be.

So we celebrated our first married St. Patrick's Day (and Alex's first as an honorary Irish) with family in the Windy City, and it couldn't have been more perfect.  Record high temperatures.  Record high crowds.  No Irish stew.  But lots of a green paraphernalia and of course, green beer!

First on our agenda for the day was to see the river dyed green.  I've heard about this for years but never quite comprehended just how.....fluorescent it would be.  If you have not seen it for yourself, add it to your Bucket List!

However, I wouldn't say you have to make sure you are there for the actual moment of the dying.  It was actually much cooler a couple of hours later when the dye had spread and the whole river was emerald.

We also tried to take in the parade but the crowds made that literally impossible.... Instead we got in a lot of people watching and taking in of various downtown sights before we made our way to a restaurant or two for some refreshments...

Shockingly, getting a green beer was not as it easy as you would have thought!  With the record crowds, most bars had 2 hour+ waits.  Outside.  In the hot sun.  Standing.  Yeah.... Not so much....  We did a lot of walking (my legs are still sore) and went to some very nice restaurants for great food and great drinks, including my first ever Pisky Whickle (whiskey and pickle juice) but not  green beer in sight.

(I'm only including this because I found the play on words quite hilarious... My sense of humor is refined like that...)

Until the train ride back to the suburbs where, about 2 feet from the train tracks was the most awesome hole-in-the-wall Irish bar.  Irish music.  Tacky decorations.  Goofy old men.  Free corned beef sandwiches and chips.  And green beer.  It was the perfect end to the perfect day.