[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]I love sunny days in March, when the temperature reaches 70. I love running for a good cause, up and over the hills of South Boston. I love wearing green. And I love my neighborhood. I could do without it being invaded by a bunch of hot messes, but I suppose it’s only one day a year. And by the time I get home from work, all of the cigabutts, shamrock headbands and beer cans will have been hauled away. If one day of chaos is the price we pay (welp, in addition to a mortgage) to live in Southie… it’s well worth it.
I must be getting old, but I could barely contain my second-hand embarrassment walking down Broadway after the morning’s 5k. Green spandex is a privilege, not a right. Throwing up into a cup at 11:30 AM is never a good look. And no, you cannot feed my dog a handful of Cheetos (as much as he probably would have loved that).
It’s not all bad, though. I love seeing families setting their chairs out early in the morning to get the best view. I love the bagpipes. I bet whoever invented those was in need of a good cry. Amazing Grace always crushes my soul. Despite being truly odd, I love the parade itself. I wish certain groups weren’t banned from marching, especially when the parade is already full of grown men wearing skirts, playing flutes. To quote Alanis, “It’s a little too ironic, don’t you think?” But unlike rain on your wedding day, it actually is ironic. People are people. There’s no reason to exclude.
After the South Boston Boys and Girls Club 5k and walking up to the east side to visit with my sister, her fiance (yayayayayayayay!) and their friends for a bit, I was ready to head home. And happy I didn’t have to go far. And grateful to share the neighborhood for just one day.
Also On Tap for Today:
What was the highlight of your weekend? Did you swing by the parade?