Four ways to tell you married a Scotsman (Happy Rabbie Burns Day!)

By Melodie Campbell (Bad Girl)

Yes, it's a repeat.  And dang it, the darn post didn't post on the day I scheduled it to (new glasses coming immediately.)  But how could we let a year go by without revisiting this?

I didn’t start out with the last name of Campbell.  No sir, I had to earn it, like every self-respecting Italian gal who marries into the Highlands. Part of that involved saying Yes at the altar.  Another part entailed rolling one’s eyes and sighing with stoic good nature when faced with the following:

Bagpipes. 

I don’t pretend to know who got the original idea to put a sheep’s bladder over a wooden pipe and blow into the thing while squeezing.  Rumour has it that during the retreat, the Romans left one behind as a joke.  The resulting sound of a bagpipe winding up has been likened to unspeakable things being done to a cat.  But I’m thinking this whole sheep bladder thing explains a lot.  I mean, we know the original purpose of those things (bladders, not sheep.)  How exactly did some smart guy think they would sound?  Which brings me to…

Haggis.  

I don’t know if you have ever tried haggis.  But I reckon it all started at the bagpipe factory, when they realized they had a few extra stomachs hanging around.  Some savvy Scotsman said, “Hey!  We could fill this with oatmeal and suet and serve it to all the people we hate. Like our inlaws.  And relatives. Particularly on special occasions, and before going to war.” There is simply one word to describe haggis:  DON’T. 

Thrift.  

It could be a virtue.  But take it from me.  People who are determined to make music via sheep bladders, and then are equally determined to stuff animal stomachs with oatmeal and feed them to people, may be taking the ole saving money thing a tad too far. 

Thrift 2.0

We have a saying in our family, and that saying is, “Kiltworthy.”  If something is kiltworthy, it means that said purchase was a real steal (as in stealing sheep for bladders. But I digress.)  It could also mean that no purchase was necessary, as said Scotsman was able to recreate a facsimile of a reasonably working item from leftover ceiling spackle and duct tape.  

I am married to a man who worships at the altar of the God called Kiltworthy.  He can fix pretty well anything with a little glue and a big hammer.

Strangely enough, I originally took Kiltworthy to have an entirely different meaning.  Without going into detail, I can attest to the fact that the Scotsman I married is indeed Kiltworthy.  He has great knees.  Oh, so you were expecting me to say something else…

OATLANDER – Why I can never write a book straight

It happened again.  One little letter got switched around, and those little writer demons in my head let loose.

It started with a quote from an industry reviewer, regarding my time travel series starting with Rowena Through the Wall.  I was trying to quote:  “OUTLANDER meets SEX AND THE CITY.”

Nice way to describe Rowena et al.  I’m very grateful to him.  But of course, I messed up the spelling of Outlander.

So here’s a sneak preview of my next book:

OATLANDER

Claire (okay, lets change that to Flaire) falls through time and lands in virtually the same country she did in that other book.  The country that thinks using animal bladders for instruments is a really neat idea.

“What the heck,” says Flaire, looking around at all the sheep.  “This isn’t Kansas.”

“Ach no,” says ruggedly handsome and unmarried oat farmer, who might possibly be named Jamie (okay, let’s change that to –heck, nothing rhymes.  Tamie?  Bamie?  Okay, Balmy.  “And why are you wearing just your slip, lass?”

Flaire (looking down): “Blast. So’s I am.  Well, fuck a duck.”

Balmy:  “Canna no dae that, lass. Only sheep here.”

<We travel further along in the story, to the battle of Culloden, where Balmy and the local rebels exchange words.>

Leader of Rebels:  “Today will go down in history, lads!  Grab yer spikes and pitch forks!  We go to spill English blood!”

Blamy: “Not on me oat field, ye don’t.”

“SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND!”  Rebels charge.

Flaire, watching everyone trip over sheep.  “This isn’t going to end well.”

Balmy:  “Back to Kansas, Lass?”

Flaire:  “Sure.  No oats though. We’d have to call this…Cornlander.

Balmy <scratching chin>:  “But that would be-“

Flaire:  “Corny?” 

(with apologies to all people everywhere.)

Three Ways to tell you Married a Scotsman

By Melodie Campbell (Bad Girl)

I didn’t start out with the last name of Campbell.  No sir, I had to earn it, like every self-respecting Italian gal who marries into the Highlands. Part of that involved saying Yes at the altar.  Another part entailed rolling one’s eyes and sighing with stoic good nature when faced with the following:

1.  Bagpipes.  I don’t pretend to know who got the original idea to put a sheep’s bladder over a wooden pipe and blow into the thing while squeezing.  Rumour has it that during the retreat, some of my Roman ancestors left one behind as a joke.  The resulting sound of a bagpipe winding up has been likened to unspeakable things being done to a cat.  But I’m thinking this whole sheep bladder thing explains a lot.  I mean, we know the original purpose of those things (bladders, not sheep.)  How exactly did some smart guy think they would sound?  Which brings me to…

2.  Haggis.  I don’t know if you have ever tried haggis.  But I reckon it all started at the bagpipe factory, when they realized they had a few extra bladders hanging around.  Some savvy Scotsman said, “Hey!  We could fill this with oatmeal and suet and serve it to all the people we hate. Like our inlaws.  And relatives. Particularly on special occasions, and before going to war.” From bladders, they moved on to stomachs, which was a great improvement, I'm told.  They keep telling me.  Every Robbie Burns day.

There is simply one word to describe haggis:  DON’T. 

3.  Thrift.  It could be a virtue.  But take it from me.  People who are determined to make music via sheep bladders, and then are equally determined to stuff said bladders (okay, stomachs) with oatmeal and feed them to people, may be taking the ole saving money thing a wee bit too far. 

We have a saying in our family, and that saying is, “Kiltworthy.”  If something is kiltworthy, it means that said purchase was a real steal (as in stealing sheep for bladders. But I digress.)  It could also mean that no purchase was necessary, as said Scotsman was able to recreate a facsimile of a reasonably working item from leftover ceiling spackle and duct tape.  I am married to a man who worships at the altar of the God called Kiltworthy.  He can fix pretty well anything with a tangle of scrap wire and old socks.

Strangely enough, I originally took Kiltworthy to have an entirely different meaning.  Without going into detail, I can attest to the fact that the Scotsman I married is indeed Kiltworthy.  He has great knees.  Oh, so you were expecting me to say something else…

 Said Scotsman, in days of yore, with unsuspecting Italian babe.