The Interesting Lego House Tribe

What's in a Name?

 Erin Alzapiedi (err-in al-za-im-not-even-gonna-try). That's me, Galic and Garlic, at least that's what my parents always used to say. Obviously my last name came from my dad's parents in all of their italian glory. Before they died we used to spend the weeks before holidays making various assortments of pastas and Italian cookies. My grandmother would joke about how she used to chase my dad around the kitchen with a rolling pin, screaming and yelling like the Italian grandmothers you see on sitcoms. Noni was nothing like that now. She would sit at the counter with me and sing me songs as she taught me how to expertly cut and flick the gnocchi before setting them out to dry. It used to take us hours and we wouldn't even get to eat them for several weeks when we celebrated Easter. Easter has always been an interesting (see now you're wondering what the hell I mean by saying interesting) holiday. Aside from Jesus rising from the dead like a zombie and all, Easter was interesting because we would host both my mom's Irish family and my dad's Italian one. My house would be filled with the sounds of Riverdance and overly excited, loud-mouth relatives as the aromas of ham and gnocchi spread through the air like a sick disease.

When I was little, these family gatherings gave me the perfect excuse to show off my mad dance skills for my family. I started dancing before I was even born. In fact, dancing is how I got my name in the first place. My parents went to see Riverdance while my mom was pregnant with me and I insisted on kicking her in perfect rhythm for the entire evening. Apparently that warranted naming me Ireland. I used to hate the name, but as I've met more Irelands and learned about the culture, I have grown proud of where I come from. I guess Galic and Garlic can find some way to get along.