This past weekend we headed downtown for the city's annual Celtic Festival. We figured that little B needed to represent his culture. And having said that we also knew that anyone that saw him would not believe for a second that he had any Irish in him. You would never guess that my dad's family is in fact, from Ireland.
So, Brian and I went expecting a huge college frat party, but it wasn't that at all. Surprisingly, it was very family-oriented and included all the usual suspects at any fair - lots of fattening food, overpriced/tacky merchandise, port-a-potties, etc. The fun thing about this one was the Irish dancing and singing - those people love to belt out their traditional, limerick, pub-like songs. The highlight of the day was eating fried pickles. Yes, fried. And don't knock it until you've tried it. It was actually good. Of course, I probably have a clogged artery now, but hey, it's just part of the experience, right?
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