"If it's not Scottish, it's crrrrrrap!"

It's the last weekend in July and you know what that means! MEN IN KILTS!

This year, Hubby and I decided we'd only attend one day of the New Brunswick Highland Games. The last few years, we've made a weekend of it, but we couldn't take Piper to the Games, and it really wouldn't have been fair to leave her crated all day in an unfamiliar motel room. So we just went up this morning and back this evening.

We've been going to the Games since 1995. In 1996, the first summer I was married, my father-in-law took me aside the night before the Games and said, "You're a McLean now. You have to eat haggis." (We didn't find out about my McLean roots until much later.)

Well, I ate haggis for the first time in 1996, and when I told my father-in-law, he asked, "Did you like it?" At the look on my face, he broke out into hearty laughter. He passed away two years later, and although I still don't like haggis, I get "haggis-on-a-bun" each and every year as a salute to him. (If I wash it down with Irn Bru and follow it with a cheddar and dill scone, it's not so bad. Burping "mutton" the rest of the day, though? Not so good.)

We've made a lot of great friends over the years, between being involved with Clan Maclean Atlantic and the New Brunswick Scottish Cultural Association. Even though there are so many people, you can still tell the faces of those you've seen at previous games. People nod and smile, knowing they've seen you before. Neighbouring tents on the Avenue of the Clans year after year means that you know the Wallaces will watch your tent while you run to the portapotty and vice versa. It's a kinship and a reunion and celebration all in one.

I'll be honest. I really didn't want to go this year. I woke up cranky and tired and I just wanted to stay home. But once we pulled into the parking lot and I heard the skirl of the pipes, my highland blood started dancing. And the first sight of manly knees reminded me of other reasons I like to go. (wink)

So we got to spend some time in the clan tent with our friend Ian , and take in some music and dancing, and it was one of those rare times Hubby and I get to spend some time together, travelling to something we both enjoy. Seeing the kids get so excited about collecting stamps and stickers from the different clan tents was a lot of fun, too. (Especially the little girl who, her face painted like a tiger, tried out her growl for me.)

One thing that was different this year, and something to which I was looking forward, was a spinning demonstration by a representative from Kings Landing Historical Settlement. The more I get involved with rug hooking, the more fascinated and curious I become with all aspects of wool and wool production.

(The costumed girl was in the midst of explaining to a young child what a youngster's role would have been (picking out the bits of burrs etc.), and I caught her face in a rather unflattering position. In gratitude for her showing me how to spin, I have cropped out her face rather than show it to the world.)

Like most people, I'd always thought that the wool went up and around the wheel when spinning, but that thread is more like part of the motor. I was fascinated watching her spin, and if I ever win the lottery and manage to adopt a couple of sheep, you know I'll be spinning (and shearing and picking and carding, regardless of my age) too!

Alas, all good things must come to an end. At the end of the day, all of the different bands participate in what's called "The Massed Bands", where they all come together, marching and playing as one. It's something that's virtually impossible to describe -- you need to experience it for yourself-- but when they start off that first note, you can feel it in your chest. It's completely amazing, and one of the biggest highlights of the day for me. (Someday I'll learn to play.)


We went to supper at the Lunar Rogue with Ian (another tradition that has evolved over the last few years) and then headed home. Piper and Zaphod were glad to see us, and we were glad to be home and out of the Fredericton heat!