I know I'm past the point of no return with kilting. A week ago Tuesday, I woke up at midnight in writhing pain. My gut ached as well as my back. I couldn't stand up. My wife, being the smart woman she is, insisted on taking me to the Emergency Room. I got up, got dressed (kilt, shirt, hose, boots and coat) and hobbled to the car with her. I continued to writhe upon arrival, having difficulty paying attention to the intake nurse. Once the preliminaries were over, we went to the lobby to wait (not long thankfully). It turns out I'm the proud papa of a bouncing baby kidney stone. I don't recommend it to anyone.

The point of this story is that while in the waiting room, my wife leaned over and said, "you know that you managed to have your hose match your shirt". I've got it bad boys....

Dale