Alba gu bràth!

People have been asking me for the past couple of weeks how my wee Scotsman feels about the vote for Scottish independence.  Let me say this:  he would've voted for it.


He watched the debates on CSPAN with fervor.  He explained the pros and cons to me, and to anyone who would listen, often with a thick brogue.  The man knows his Scottish history.  Heck, we even watched Braveheart somewhere in there, with him bellowing in said brogue "they can take away our lives, but they cannot take away our FREEDOM!"


The man loves the land of his father.


We went to Scottish Fest last weekend, and partook of some fine Celtic music (if you ever get a chance to hear the Rogue American's, DO IT.  They are amazing.), had a fine whiskey tasting, watched some caber tossing, and even saw a Storm Trooper wearing a kilt.  No lie.  It was a fine time, and I'm hoping to have my Smith tartan sash by next year's fest.  'Twas a proud day to be a Scotsman (or woman).


We wandered around to see what they had, and found ourselves in the Viking encampment, listening to a very loud rooster.  I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and me, being the Chicken Lady that I am, went searching.  We found him, a fine, fat specimen, in a wire crate near the ladies, bellowing his displeasure at his accommodations.  I admired him, only to be told by one of the ladies "he's dinner."  I must've had a shocked look on my face, because she looked me in the eye and said "I'm serious.  He's dinner."  So of course, after the Ceilidh (a dinner and music fest of its own), we had to check to see if the rooster was still with us.  Alas, the Vikings were all asleep, and unless one of them was cuddled up with him, he was in several bellies.  RIP Rooster, you were a fine chicken.


So yesterday, friends invited us out to "either celebrate Scottish independence, or mourn the loss" in the vote.  We found ourselves munching on burgers at the Irish Mutt -- ok, so it's not Scottish, but we figured MacNivens' was a) probably packed and b) further away and c) a lot more expensive.  Jim and Bob are like Mutt and Jeff, but they are both Marines, so they swapped sea stories over several beers, whilst Annie and I listened.  Just when we thought they were done, Jim ordered a round of Scotch, and drank to the land of his father, saying Alba gu bràth (which means Scotland Forever).


Never mind that on the way home, these same two Marines were in the back seat of the car singing Mama Mia at the top of their lungs, which Jim today steadfastly denies.


Alba gu bràth!

No Such Thing as a Bedtime Routine

I was chatting with one of the kids on Facebook tonight, and told them I needed to put the puppy away, so I'd be right back.  Here's what happened afterward:


Picked up puppy.  Started down stairs and realized she had put the water bowl on the stairs.  Picked up water bowl to avoid a fall on the stairs, and put it on the counter.  Went in and turned on dryer to warm up the hubby's Browns' blanket before I took it up to him.  Put puppy away.  Realized Mickey had followed me downstairs and is now staring sadly at me by the door, wanting to go out.  Let Mickey out.  Went to kitchen, filled water bowl and put it on the floor.  Mickey was now barking hysterically to get in.  Let Mickey in.  Grabbed blanket from dryer.  Start up the stairs, but Mickey stops to get a drink.  Call him to come upstairs.  I get upstairs, only to realize that Bandit is pounding on Seth's bedroom door, which is closed.  Let Bandit out of bedroom and he runs downstairs, wanting to go out to the garage.  Go back downstairs and let him outside.  Go back upstairs.  Realize I forgot to get hubby's evening meds.  Go downstairs and get meds and refill his Mason jar of water.  Go back upstairs and realize that I never too my evening meds.  Go downstairs and take said meds.  Come upstairs and climb onto bed, only to realize that now Facebook has frozen, so the "I'll be right back" is truly a lie now.


Try to reboot computer.  Go and brush teeth whilst it is rebooting.  Come back, only to find that it still hasn't even shut down.  Shut it down manually, while thinking that maybe my hard drive is dying.  Don't really care, because there are several broken keys on the keyboard, so it's a lotta work to type on it.  Restart computer and decided I'd better go pee while it's booting up.  Go pee.  Climb on bed, only to realize that Mickey had apparently followed me downstairs and he is now scratching at the bedroom door.  Let dog in.  Settle into bed with all my comfy pillows.  Mickey comes around to my side of the bed, wanting up.  Pull him up on to the bed.  Open Facebook.


Kid has signed off.