St. Patrick' day or our Valentine's day

Yes, indeed. Jake and I met on St. Patrick's day....at Murphy's Irish Pub in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle.

Oh, it was romantic; green beer, raving lunitics, very loud celtic tunes. I remember it well.

I had just gotten back from a 2 week trip to Spain (!) and Jake had just rolled into town from the E. Coast. He was staying with a friend and was fixed up on a blind date for St. Patrick's day. And, drum roll please, she didn't show up!

Murphy's, of course, was my local pub. It was my "Cheers" or my extended living room. I ate dinner and drank excellent micro-brews there 2 to 3 times a week. They knew my name. There was some history. Located just up the street from my little apartment in the the upstairs of a house with a killer view of Seattle and Lake Union. And, cheap!! $350 a month, boy, those were the days.

I was chock full of the kind of confidence that international travel gives you upon returning home and planned to make a night of it with my old pal Marybeth. We boldly snuck through the back way because, hey, I was a regular.

Jake and his friends had to wait in a ridiculous line that ran down the street.

Somehow at about 8:30 we collided. I swung my head around and spotted him standing near by.

"Hi. Who are you?" came out before I could think better of it.

"Jake. Who are you?" He returned with an arched eyebrow.

The rest is, as they say, history.

17 years ago this St. Patrick's Day.

I always found our meeting incredibly ironic. Partly due to Jake's excessive Irish heritage; 3rd generation Irish immigrants and partially because he was only in town for a month or so when we met. I liked to say that us local girls had to grab the guys from out of town quickly because all the local guys were SNAGs (sensitive new age guys) or (sensitive NW guys) depending on how you pronounce it.

But, Jake wasn't particularly sensitive but he was wicked handsome, very intelligent, razor sharp wit and strong enough to do battle with me.

So, 17 years and still going. Like Jake's dad always says after each anniversary, their last being 60 years, "I'll give it one more year and see if it works out."

Here's to one my year, babe. Have a green beer. Cheers.