#5- Happy Saint Patrick's day.

Being from a primarily Irish Catholic family meant never missing Saint Patrick's day. Of course Mom always made sure that we wore some form of green to school to ward off any pinches, and she continues to make sure all ten of her kids wear green to this day.

But, as the four oldest of us ten kids (I'm #4) spent most of our growing up in Virginia, we four had another reason to eagerly await March 17; during the night, we would be visited by an honest-to-God Leprechaun.

It was like Santa visiting us on Christmas-- no one actually saw him, but those presents weren't there the night before, so therefore he must have come and put them there. The Leprechaun didn't leave presents; he just left a fucking mess everywhere. And it was hilarious.

For some reason, he always dyed the milk green. Always. At first I thought it meant it was spoiled, but after Kid #1 drank it without immediately throwing up, we all drank it till our tongues were green. So every year we could look forward to green milk in our cereal, nice and festive. Then we would look on the ground and realize that he had left little green footprints that lead from the fridge to all over the house. Seriously, those footprints went everywhere. We'd find other things colored green, like the water in Mom's angel fountain, or the rosary around the statue of the Virgin Mary. Sometimes he'd leave chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil, sometimes he'd leave a note, but he always left that fucking amazing mess behind.

At school I learned quickly that no one believed in leprechauns the way I did. I was shocked to discover that not one of my classmates had a leprechaun visit their house. I must have been in a lucky house!

After suffering though the day's lectures we'd come home and always watch the same movie every year, Darby O'Gill and the Little People. (Actually a pretty good movie, I recommend.)

Then it happened; the year 1999. We moved to California, and the Leprechaun stopped visiting.
It's been twelve years now, and still no sign of a leprechaun.

I wonder sometimes if that smarmy little bastard still hangs around the old house. My guess is no, because we sold the house to a bunch of old people, and older folks don't like pranks too much.

So tonight as you all get drunk, be on the lookout. If, by any chance, you see a leprechaun through your drunken haze, tell him Liz says hi.

Warm Regards,

Liz.