We have established that I am a nomad. I should not need to repeat it again except for the first time reader.
This lifestyle is certainly not for everyone, and I realize that some live it vicariously through this blog, and others like it. I am writing this on a Tuesday, the feast day of our patron saint, but most of the events I am discussing occurred Saturday.
This morning we discovered to our surprise and sadness that a fellow with our client company was found dead in his hotel room of a drug overdose. We are not certain what drug was involved. He was in his thirties. It was a waste and a loss.
But this way of life will bring the worst or the best out of a person, and if it is the worst, then that person will generally be eaten alive.
So enough of the brief soapbox.
On Saturday, the gang we was working with unloaded in a new location, so that made for a short day.
We figured that the location was within driving distance of Things Celtic that if released early enough, we could make it in time to finally get me a new kilt. I had one that I wore frequently, but lost it when I lost Roxie. I think I left it in there by mistake.
To my knowledge, Things Celtic is the only Celt store in Texas, unlike on the east coast where they are all over the place. I haven’t looked at the surrounding states yet.
The price of kilts at this store were quite prohibitive the last time I was there, and while I was almost ready to pay it anyway, kilts beginning at $170 USD was nuts. I am not paying upwards of $500 for a kilt that is not my family’s tartan and has little to nothing to do with me.
The lady at the Celtic shop, realizing I was not interested in spending exorbitant amounts on a kilt just because her friend went out of business informed me that there was a Gathering of the Clans just 30 miles north, and perhaps I could get what I was looking for there.
This was how we ended up at the 56th Scottish Gathering and Highland Games in Salado, Texas. It was a wonderful experience, the first I had actually attended. I was able to meet fellow clansmen from the two my family represents, and I was able to finally find a kilt.
One vendor, a wonderful Scot that assured me that he was there because his wife was putting him to work, was very informative about what type of kilt to purchase, however I was looking for something more in a utility format rather than a dress tartan.
The booth next to him had the answer. I told the gentleman what I was looking for: an all the time kilt, one that I could wear whenever I was not at work. He gave an odd look when I added, “one that I can sleep in”. But he poked and prodded around his inventory, came back and measured me, and retrieved an olive drab plain kilt. It was canvas, comfortable, and in fact good to sleep in.
Now everyone in the city I am in knows who I am. That guy in the kilt.