Ah, a home in the Highlands!
Of course, we’re a bit removed from the Highlands of Scotland, but seeing as how a large number of Scots relocated to parts of Utah, Idaho, and Montana over a century ago, our Rocky Highlands will suffice, particularly when great heaps of kilted fellows gather for a weekend of music, food, and games (many of which involve things like tossing tree trunks and great stones, or daring one another to eat interesting parts of animals, whilst wearing the skins of said animals on their bodies in various decorative ways.)
(Don’t be nervous, my Boy… all will be well.)
Celts think things through: having a sub-set of Influenced By Large Viking Men, they developed things like Warhorses That Can Carry Large Men (like Mac, a gorgeous cross of Gypsy Wagonner and Clydesdale, who stands over 17 hands and is still graceful, with his pie-plate-sized hooves!)
To see such Lord-of-the-Ringsy-Rohirrim sorts jousting on enormous draft horses is something pretty amazing. It’s true: you can feel the earth shake when they gallop.
Scottish men historically partake in other wholesome activities, such as whacking at one another with swords having blades a full 36″ long. While on draft horses. For fun.
The Celt’s Ancient To-Do List: Toss trees end over end? Check. Tame and ride enormous equines? Check. Eat questionable foods on a dare? Check. Vanquish foes with a 3 foot blade? Check! Time for a whiskey break! And maybe posing for romance novel covers!
Or, leading small children on “pony” rides. With “ponies” taller than Dad.
Where else can you find an instrument that was once banned as a “weapon of war” (in the Dis-Kilting acts of 1747, owning or wearing tartan, speaking Gaelic, or carrying any weapon used in the preceding multiple generations of rebellion were prohibited… and since Scots did not go into battle without a piper, great pipes became classed as a weapon of war!) being used to play hymns of praise and thanksgiving, multiple bands joining together for a mass exhibition?
(Take that, George II!)
Not only are Scottish men Highly Decorative, so are the cows:
This is one: she has bangs, as do all Highland cattle. My dad would say she needs clippies. I think they should have flowers or something, because she’s obviously a delicate blossom of bovine femininity. And I say that with great sincerity, because she also owns a two-foot span of very pointy horns.
She and her pointy-horned Sistren are also a wee bit of a Mistress Piggy with regards to alfalfa treats.
And of course, no Scottish Games is complete without the mandatory visit to the… Sons of Norway? Okay.
Hey, they had a real, 1/20 scale longship, and cool photo-opp Norwegian cutouts. I’m not going to gripe. How else can the Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal fellow I married be coaxed into revealing his true (if 1/20 scale) colors?
I also got to indulge in one of my favorite hobbies: catching Spicy in good light (ignoring me), calling her name, and then snapping her picture when she turns to look:
She eventually grows weary of me… but they do say, a girl without freckles is like a night without stars!
In amongst all the sword and knife vendors, kilt and kilt accessory vendors, jewelry vendors, pottery vendors, T-shirt and Ethnic-Focus Parking Placard vendors, food vendors (is BBQ really Scottish? How about gyros? Oh, fine. Be picky. It’s better than production haggis, anyhow), musical performances, and pipes and drum competitions (and pretty much giving up on dragging The Boy away from the willing drum-line mentors in the bands), we (definitely me) were pleased as whiskey punch to sit down in the dance tent and watch a bit of a Highland Fling.
(And yes, that’s a chandelier. In a big tarpy tent. We Scots are refined and glamorous like that.)
After spending a glorious two days surrounded by our compatriots, the descendants of the Scottish Diaspora, we knew it was time to pack up and head home. This was not well-received by all our progeny.
Don’t worry, Lefty! We’ll be back again. It’s a Scots thing. We’re relentless.