When I was in elementary school, a woman asked me if I was Irish. I remember thinking, "What gave it away? The green eyes, freckles, reddish brown hair, or that my last name is Daugherty?" (Maybe I was a bit of a smart aleck?). In truth, I'm a bit of a mixed breed. The two main ingredients though are Irish and  Mexican .  My dad always told us that our ancestors changed their last name at Ellis Island from O'Daugherty to Daugherty. Which is too bad, I'd love to have that  O  still around.  O  well. I've always been proud of my name (now maiden). He also used to tell us that we're  O range Irishmen. And after nearly 28 years of hearing that, I finally decided to google what on earth that even means. It means....drum roll please. That we're protestant Irish. Simple as that.  "May your blessings outnumber The shamrocks that grow, And may trouble avoid you Wherever you go."  - an Irish blessing Happy St. Patty's Day! And a wee bit   o

And on the 328 th day, she did bake. And it was good. It’s that time of year when we excitedly anticipate special things that are just around the corner, then suddenly in one short day, they're over. For me, it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I’m baking. I never understood it, even as a child. The women make a turkey, gravy, stuffing, dessert, set the table, decorate the house, and serve a grand meal while the men eat it. I never fell into the traditional role of domestic tasks such as this. My aversion to cooking came as a young girl when I tried to make pancakes for my family and instead, started a fire. I never really had the patience to follow a recipe, create from scratch, and make a huge mess in the process, when I could go to the store, buy the same thing, and keep the kitchen spic and span. However, I do concede to the tradition for Thanksgiving and do my best to contribute to the feast. I bake 2 things: banana bread and apple pie (I suppose I haven't graduated