I experienced the luck of the Irish 39 years ago

One time Terry and I went to Australia and we took this photo that is for some reason tilted. The only explanation I can think of is that, if you look at a globe, you will clearly see that Australia is upside down, so it makes sense that we would be a bit off kilter, too.

I write these blog posts about five weeks in advance. Sometimes I'll adjust if a topic is more time-sensitive, but for the most part, I like to stay well ahead of the game.

When I'm trying to think of a subject about which to write, I'll first consider the date on which a particular post will publish. In this case, of course, it's St. Patrick's Day. But it's also the day before my wife's birthday.

So which do I choose? Considering it's a family-oriented blog, the logical choice is to write about Terry, which I've done many, many, many times in the last 13 years. And for good reason. Without the 1 Wife, there obviously wouldn't be the 5 Kids.

But there's also the fact that she is the reason and the foundation for so much of what I do every day. When there are life choices to be made, I make them together with her. If I'm stuck on a particular problem, I will usually pray first and then go right to her.

If I have no idea where we keep the small red cooler with the white lid (and I don't), I will ask her.

I've known the woman since 1986, and in that time I have used essentially the same list of adjectives to describe her over and over. She is smart, funny, pretty, generous, honest and kind, and she has a smile and a laugh that make life worth living.

You do not have to tell me I hit The Wife Jackpot. I'm well aware.

It's a day early, but if you want to wish her a well-deserved happy birthday now, I think it's entirely appropriate. In fact, I'll do it myself:

Happy birthday to my four-leaf clover.

When the folks at 23andMe give you permission to be more Irish than you thought

For many years, St. Patrick's Day never seemed especially relevant to me. I know it's the day when we're all supposed to be Irish, but biologically speaking, I figured I was English, Scottish, German, and not much else.

Wearing green and walking around with a shillelagh in one hand and a Guinness in the other seemed a tad inauthentic.

Then, a couple of years ago, at my request, Terry got me a 23andMe genetic testing kit for Christmas. I sent off a dollop of spit to their labs and eagerly opened my ancestry report weeks later when it arrived via email.

I am no geneticist, so I can't speak to the accuracy of these mass-market, saliva-based tests. I hear and read good things, but the results are sometimes so precise as to evoke a level of skepticism.

I choose to believe the 23andMe test is reliable, though, if only because I like what the results had to say.

Yes, I am mostly English. And yes, there's indubitably some German blood in me, thanks to my maternal grandmother, one Ms. Bertha Spitznogel.

I was surprised to have Swiss and French roots, as well.

What really caught my eye, though, is that I'm 47.9% "British & Irish." When you break that down further by region, I'm classified as a "Highly Likely Match" for both "Galway and Central Ireland" and "Central and Southern Ireland," not to mention being a "Likely Match" for "Central and Northern Ireland" and "Northern Ireland and Central Scottish Lowlands."

Well, top of the mornin', kiss the Blarney Stone, and keep your hands off me Lucky Charms! Who knew?

Of course, I don't know exactly how much of my ancestry is Irish, but it's apparently more than the <0.1% I originally assumed. And that whole thing about me being of Scottish origin? Maybe not so much.

With St. Patrick's Day now just 48 hours away, I feel much more justified laying some small claim to the holiday. Maybe I'll sip a green beer on Sunday and listen to Irish pipe bands.

The English side of me will hate it, of course, but I can shut down that part of my brain for one day, at least.