Today’s the day my pal Mare-Bear gets sworn in as a US citizen. She’s from Ireland originally, and moved to NYC about 8-9 years ago. For the past nine months she’s been doing all the necessary paperwork to become a US citizen, and today it ends with the swearing in ceremony. We’re on pins and needles here at the office waiting for her to come in and tell us how it went. After getting yelled at yesterday by a pseudo-boss, she was in no mood to come in after the ceremony, so I know she’s dawdling before arriving, but it’s almost noon already! ARG!
You know what this means, don’t you? No more Irish jokes. Only Irish-American jokes now.
Mare-bear, Congratulations!!! We have Naturalization ceremonies at the courthouse here and it’s fun to see the new citizens come downstairs waving their American flags and beaming with pride.
hey thanks so much ms. j !! i don’t know if i am happier about my u.s. passport status or being mentioned in my own paragraph on the coots !!
as one irish-american to another, here’s the latest irish joke I’ve heard about an irish garden:
An old man lived alone in Ireland. He wanted to spade his potato garden,but it was very hard work. His only son, who would have helped him, was in Long Kesh Prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and mentioned his predicament.
Shortly after sending the letter, the father received this reply, “For HEAVEN’S SAKE Dad, don’t dig up that garden. That’s where I buried the GUNS!”
At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen British soldiers showed up with shovels and dug up the entire garden. They found no munitions.
Confused, the old man wrote another note to his son telling him what happened.
His son’s reply was: “Best I could do from here. Now plant your potatoes.”
aww – ain’t that filial piety touching?