Day 94- Leprechauns!

Beware the Ides of March!! Happy Ides, guys. In my senior year of high school, I took a Mythology class. I actually took a Mythology class in 6th grade too, but it was dangerous thanks to the 8th grade boys throwing --literally throwing-- hard back books across the room. But that's another blog for another time and I digress. In my 12th grade Mythology class one assignment was to choose a mythological creature and do a report on them. I chose... LEPRECHAUNS! Although... are we SURE they are just myth? Let's discuss.

Growing up, I was even more apt than most to believe in the magical. Not religion... definitely not gods and angels and devils or anything. I'm talking about MAGIC! Faeries and gnomes and mermaids and Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny and, hell, I'm still waiting on my letter from Hogwarts. Whole magical universes like Tolkien's "Middle Earth" and Christopher Paolini's "Alagaesia"... years later I discovered George R.R. Martin's "Westeros" and Sarah J. Maas' "Erilea". 

I came to link magic with reading and writing. That changed me as a person. An invaluable lesson. 

Just the idea of magical creatures running amok is just... awesome to imagine, ESPECIALLY little leprechauns wreaking havoc and being obnoxious. And their gold that they hoard! When I was in 2nd grade, my classmate came to school one day bragging about how she and her mother had followed the end of the rainbow and found the pot of gold! Ohhhhh, the jealousy! Not just for the gold, but for tangible proof that leprechauns exist!

I know this is not very original, but I imagine leprechauns in a very specific way. They can range in size from a, say, five year old child to a two-inch tall little being. Their hair ranges from a white blonde to a shiny, coppery red, to a ink-black swirl around their pale faces. I imagine the girl leprechauns tucking strands of their hair behind pointy ears. When they laugh, it's magical. They look at you with pretty green eyes, but you can never tell what they're thinking. They favor green clothing with shiny black buttons and worn, brown boots. 

Over ten years ago now I dressed up as one with just what was in my closet, my sister's, and my mom's.

I think leprechauns and the Borrowers are closely related; the Borrowers just aren't magical. They're the muggles to the leprechauns' wizards. And I DO believe in Borrowers! For sure. 

I always thought it would be fun to write a story from the perspective of a magical being, like a leprechaun or a fairy godmother! In fact, I have several ideas... *insert picture of me rubbing my hands together maniacally*

So no, I have never seen one. But I like thinking they're out there. That magic is out there. Different kinds of magic, too. Yes I'm mostly talking about sparks shooting from wands and disappearing and reappearing and being in multiple places at once and all that stuff, but I also like remembering magic is out there and we see it every day. Magic of dogs! Magic of people being kind to one another. I think that's the best magic of all!

.... leprechauns are a close second though ;)

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!

Sarah

Day 84- Plethora

Sarah's brain strikes again.

One of my semi-frequent jobs at ACE is driving to the nearest dollar store and buying chips and cookies and snacks and coffee and creamer and sugar for the good people of ACE to snack on. Today was one such day! After completing my duties in the office, I drove my little car over to the Dollar store. We've had winter weather lately and even with pretty days like today, there were still dirty piles of snow all around, and the parking lot was full of grease-streaked puddles.

I had shoved the money in my back pocket but had the list in my hand, ready. It wasn't much of a list! I went through, remembering tidbits here and there- my uncle likes the garden salsa chips, and my aunt likes Fritos. My dad is a classic-chip kinda guy and doesn't enjoy stuff like Cool Ranch. Buying Little Debbies, one must keep in mind that "individually wrapped" is the way to go. And when it comes to cookies I just buy what I want to eat. 

I was waited on by a young lady and it made me feel kind of old. She was wearing dark clothes, had her eyebrow and lip pierced and her black straight hair hung directly in my face, her posture slouched. I was there once!!! I'm not so far from it now, but I felt old because I had to fight the urge to lean forward and pull her hair out of her face. Ahhh, what would 16-year-old me think of me now??

But I made it back to the store and distributed the goods. I'm fine with it now, but in the past these snack-excursions have given me great stress. So when I was done, I sought out my sister at the parts counter. I sauntered over.

"I made it," I bragged.

"I see that!" she answered. "Very good."

That's when I did it. 

"I got a plethora of snack food," I said, except, like the goddamned word "courtesy" the other day, my brain pictured it and I pronounced wrong. I said it "Pluh-THOR-uh" instead of "Pleth-ora." And I didn't think twice.

My sister smiled an odd smile, and tilted her head. "You know, you're usually right about these things, but I don't think that's how you pronounce it."

My brain twisted. I saw the word in the air above me. Oh, no.

"It's pleth-ora isn't it?" I said, squinting my eyes shut. "Well, shit."

She giggled. 

Just then, my dad came around the corner. It didn't take long to fill him in. He was soon cackling at me, my sister joining him. So did I, honestly.

"You know what?" I said in between hoots, "I am gonna look it up right this minute. There's a computer right in front of me."

"You don't have to look it up," my dad promised. "We know how to pronounce it."

I ignored him and googled it. The first thing to pop up was a Youtube video of how to pronounce it. (SEE??? I'm not the only one.) Sure enough, it was "pleth-ora". But my dad wasn't paying attention to the video. He was looking at the video view count. 

"NINETY THOUSAND geeks didn't know and had to look it up?" He howled. 

A little while later, my dad, sister and I were all back at the parts counter still,  working on individual projects. My dad suddenly remembered, "Mr. Montoya got his truck!" 

"Really?" I asked. Mr. Montoya is up front at ACE all the time and I'd been hearing for weeks about his fancy new truck coming in.

"Yeah!" said Dad. "Over $40,000! That is a PLETHORA of cash."

Later still, we were talking about getting new pants for the shop guys, even though we all agreed they had a plethora of pants already. Except, my dad insisted that when talking about pants "Plee-thora" sounded better for some reason.

And for the rest of the afternoon 'plethora' kept creeping its way into our conversations. 

I gotta admit, it was pretty funny. If my brain would just behave!

Sarah