Happy St. Patricks day to all. In honor of the day, I'm posting this entry with my celtic knot icon and my entry, entirely in green. Don't worry upon the ending of this entry, all colors and icons will return to their regularly scheduled boring programs.
St. Patrick's day has always been one of my favorite holidays. Our name, Romey, supposedly is Irish, Old Irish for champion in fact. We don't know where this Irish lineage comes from because many of our relatives back to the late nineteenth century were both German, Belgian, and Swedish, but Romey comes from O'Romey or the derived Rooney, so there's got to be some green blood somewhere in me. I'm probably even related to Andy Rooney somewhere, and this fact is quite scary :). I called Lindsey to wish her Happy St. Patrick's Day, and thought I'd have nothing to do on this day related to the holiday but on coming home today, I found out we were having corn beef for dinner. Quite cool Indeed. I just think that this day becomes even more neat because people obligingly listen to my favorite type of music, the music of the persecuted, teh sad, the drunk, and the down-trodden, the Irish. Its true that some people can only tolerate Irish music while very drunk but nonetheless, they're still listening to it so there :). I just wish I lived in a place with a higher concentration of the Green population, a place where parades are commonplace and wiskey and Guinness are consumed in great quantities. Perhaps some day.
The highlight of the day was our trip to Payson, about 30 minutes down the mountain from Strawberry. I was born in Payson, at the once small Payson hospital 24 years ago and delivered by Doctor Ivy. Our family has continued to keep in touch with him, sending Christmas cards back and forth, and seeing him on visits throughout my growing up years. I had hoped to get my staples taken out, and as I've said in previous entries I wanted him to get them out. Unfortunately, my doctor in Little Rock didn't want me to get them out, but Doctor Ivy had other ideas. It was kind of funny when I called and talked to Dottie, the person who has dealing with my appointment. At first she had no idea who I was but when I mentioned that I was the "pain in the butt who needed the staples removed" she knew exactly who I was. She was disappointed that I cancelled my appointment but I told her that I planned to visit town today, and try to stop by his office to say hi. He was so excited to know I was going to be in town today, and when we stepped into the office, all of the bureaucracy disappeared, and we were instant celebrities. My sister was delivered by Ivy, and we thought it was neat because he had both mine and my sister's pictures among lots of other babies he'd delivered. He didn't want to see me in the main office, but ordered us into an exam room so he could, according to Dottie who I finally met, "He wants to have time to chew you out." We knew better.
As a child I had always been fascinated by Doctor Ivy's really long beard and his very generous offerings of tasty suckers which he always would give me. So when he came in, as usual, he took my hand and said "Look, I still have the beard. Its more gray than it used to be but feel it." I did, as I remember doing as a kid. I didn't find it as fascinating today but I thought, Hey gotta continue the tradition. We talked about alot of things, from my recent fracture to Kelsea's wedding. He gave me lots of positive advice about life, and even told me a poem he had written which I hope, once I get it, to post it here. He told me, as others have told me, that things happen for a reason, and though I have been unlicky, there's bound to be something good to come out of all of this. I thought it was really neat that someone like him was so excited to see me. I've got the 411 now for instant passage over the bureaucracy of chart creation, and appoint making now, just in case I'm up here and I need his help again.
My sister flies back tomorrow to Little Rock so she can hang with Philip for the weekend and continue planning the wedding. My mom is going to drive her to the valley and then back ehre once she gets Kelsea to the airport. I'll be glad to be away from 91 degrees. Its a dry heat though, so I hear. Whatever, I say.
Grandpa has had an up and down day. He still needs prayers and thoughts, as radiation treatments continue with side effects of pain and indigestion. He continually reminds us that you must live your life to the fullest. To me though, I can tell he hates the fact that getting old can be an agonizing and sometimes painful experience.
And that's about all I have to say here. Again, Happy St. Patrick's Day. Don't get too drunk, and if you do, send some warm feelings and muddled thoujghts my way. I'll be with you all in spirit.