This week was our fast-free week, in anticipation of Great Lent, which begins shortly, so while I was in Cleveland for a deanery meeting, and stopped in at Gibson's bagpipes for a chanter and some books, I went to the Brasa Grille, kilted and properly dressed, to await my wife and our friends. Though it was very windy, my USA Robertson Red never once gave me reason to blush.

Traffic was bad for them, so I waited alone in the lounge area for over an hour (not familiar territory for me, an Orthodox priest).

Finally, just before they arrive, someone from one of the larger parties walks over and says, "Okay, what's the story behind this?" (very respectfully, by the way). "Well," I said, taking a deep breath, knowing he was going to get more than he asked for...I explained how my wife was denied a Scottish wedding when we were married, how we decided to honor her, my boys and I, by going to my sis-in-law's wedding kilted to the nines, and how my father in law was so pleased, he bought us all kilts, sporrans, hose, flashed, belts, and kilt pins for Christmas.

At that moment, my lovely wife arrived, (here we are last September),

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/frjohn...&.dnm=1b69.jpg

I smiled, said good bye, and sat down to a salad bar, and 14 of the 16 kinds of meat they bring you at a Brazilian grille. Top sirloin was my favorite so I had it twice.

A very happy evening, even though it was a long, windy 1.5 hour drive back home.

Kilted is good, especially with love on your arm.