St. Patrick's Day

My dad and I are taking Irish classes. He is the biggest brown-nose around. He will ask questions that showcase what he knows in order to elicit the response "An-mhaith", very good. This is all kind of cute until it involves me. He signed us up to volunteer at the organizations table at a St. Patrick's Day celebration at Landmark Center in Saint Paul. I am full of the volunteer spirit, however I know where my strengths are. When the volunteer coordinator came to our class with the sign-up sheet, Dad jumped at the opportunity to be the first one on the list. Which meant I was second.

Since I don't see very well, I guess I assume that a duty that asks you to make eye contact with people passing by might not be my thing. I don't do well in big groups where people are coming and going and asking questions about something I have studied for only six weeks while Irish music is blaring in the background while little girls with creepy curly wigs dance around.

Not my thing. I survived our shift and everyone was very nice to me, but I felt like such a dork. I avoid putting myself in those types of situations because I hate feeling this way. Of course if I didn't do things I was uncomfortable with, I would rarely leave the house. I have been legally blind for nine years and by now I am able to weigh the pros and cons of any given situation and decide if it is a good way to spend my time. I have been surprised, but ususally I am right.

We don't even get graded.