Top of the muffin to you! The Cackling Hen survived its first St. Patrick's Day just a Blarney Stone's throw away from the land of Patrick. Living in the U.S., I knew that St. Patty's day has traditionally been a debaucherous day with green liquids flowing, and suddenly everyone is Irish. But I didn't know if that was a global tradition, or something warped by Americans. This year, I learned what St. Patty's day is like in Nottingham, England.
Putting the "Happy" in St. Patrick's Day.
I joined a flock on hen friends at noon to start the day at a traditional Irish restaurant: Hooters. I was elated to be at a restaurant founded by a bird. We ordered a smorgasbord of fried appetizers and pitchers of American beer. I silently detested anyone eating chicken wings, but in the spirit of the holiday, I kept my beak shut and put my attention to the loaded tater tots. But surrounded by unhealthy food, beer, and good hen friends, I was loving life. After 30 minutes of gorging on tots and fried pickles, I was still loving life, but having trouble breathing and moving.
I had a good run riding on the coat tails of a grumpy cat, but it's back to reality for The Cackling Hen. I can only gain so many followers from doing nothing more than clicking a button, so it's back to writing for this little bird. Sure, I wrote about Estonia in award-winning fashion, but Tallinn doesn't have the same draw as an angry kitty. Maybe one day it will.
Inspired by the events of the Winter Olympics in Sochi, I wanted to stir the pot with cackles instead of a spoon. I had plenty of opinions on the figure skating events, so I chose to write a letter to Ashley Wagner. Her sour reaction to her scores froze in time in meme form. I thanked her for the new meme, but also had my two cents on her bold presence at the games. Unfortunately, it's hard to type with wings, so plenty of birds clucked their thoughts before mine. Now it's March and #AshleyWagner is irrelevant. Sorry, Ashley, but thanks for the face.