It's St. Patrick's Day. I'm in a hockey arena outside of Boston, listening to Frank Turner open for Dropkick Murphys. Shelly is off buying T-shirts. While she's gone I thought I'd share:
Why are so many Irish songs about eulogies? But all they make me think right now is, "I need to tell people that if I die, I want my tombstone to say, He lived a full life."
And now I have.
She's back now. Time for airplane mode.