Julie and the Shamrock Shake: A Love/Hate Relationship
If you're unfamiliar with the shamrock shake, check out this tribute site.
Growing up, each year in my Irish Catholic-rich neck of the woods, the highlight of mid-March for the Weber family was the shamrock shake from McDonald's. At the minimum, the Route 8 McDonald's (which shone like a diamond in the rough on our well-worth path from our house to church), was a weekly appointment on Wednesday nights after church clubs. Without fail, when we saw the signs go up declaring the seasonal milkshake, my brothers and I rejoiced as if we had discovered the land of milk and honey. Suddenly our weekly stop held so much more potential and excitement than any other Wednesday. No boxes of Mickey D cookies and Sprite for us. No hanging out in the church parking lot to play TV Tag. We had a mission: tonite we would delight in a minty frosty treat in an unnatural shade of green. Life couldn't be better. And like clockwork, a quarter of the way into my shamrock shake, I'd realize the mint was a bit much, and I probably would have rather had the chocolate shake. (Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm 1/4 Irish - I can only take so much.) Twenty minutes later, having reached home, a mostly full, now melting shake would be half-heartedly offered up to my mum - and then most likely dropped in the trash. The incident quickly to be forgotten and reenacted to a T the next spring.
And now I have to go. You see my neighborhood Nicholasville McDonald's has shamrock shakes this year. The tradition must live on. I encourage you to start one yourself. :)
If you're unfamiliar with the shamrock shake, check out this tribute site.
Growing up, each year in my Irish Catholic-rich neck of the woods, the highlight of mid-March for the Weber family was the shamrock shake from McDonald's. At the minimum, the Route 8 McDonald's (which shone like a diamond in the rough on our well-worth path from our house to church), was a weekly appointment on Wednesday nights after church clubs. Without fail, when we saw the signs go up declaring the seasonal milkshake, my brothers and I rejoiced as if we had discovered the land of milk and honey. Suddenly our weekly stop held so much more potential and excitement than any other Wednesday. No boxes of Mickey D cookies and Sprite for us. No hanging out in the church parking lot to play TV Tag. We had a mission: tonite we would delight in a minty frosty treat in an unnatural shade of green. Life couldn't be better. And like clockwork, a quarter of the way into my shamrock shake, I'd realize the mint was a bit much, and I probably would have rather had the chocolate shake. (Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm 1/4 Irish - I can only take so much.) Twenty minutes later, having reached home, a mostly full, now melting shake would be half-heartedly offered up to my mum - and then most likely dropped in the trash. The incident quickly to be forgotten and reenacted to a T the next spring.
And now I have to go. You see my neighborhood Nicholasville McDonald's has shamrock shakes this year. The tradition must live on. I encourage you to start one yourself. :)
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