LaughAtlantis

This post is for my sponsor Mirren, who also happens to be my mother-in-law.

I got lucky enough to marry a wonderful man who understands my sense of humor, accepts my random idiocy, can deal with my occasionally crazy family, helps me through my down points, celebrates my highs, and is from Scotland. Cool, huh?

Scottish clans, as you may know, each have their own tartan. However, Begbie is not a Scottish name; it's actually English. Some of you may be thinking, "But Joy, wasn't there a character in Trainspotting that was Scottish, and his name was Begbie too? WHat about that?" Yes, that is correct, but that doesn't make the name any less English.

Anyway, when Rod and I got married, I had to search high and low to find a dress, where his outfit was a given - kilt with full regalia and accesories, It was just a matter of picking out the tartan. He used his mum's maiden name - Robertson - and had two choices. There was the more traditional Robertson Red and then another Robertson, which is green and blue plaid. I like green and blue plaid. I can deal with green and blue plaid. But the Red is the more traditional.

But the Red is BRIGHT red. Like, day-glow. With yellow stripes. Day-glow stripes. Seriously, I don't know how they made this red back in the days of expensive dyes, but this thing was seriously, seriously red.

My wedding was a fall wedding - shades of cranberry and gold and peach-y orange. Day-glow red wasn't going to cut it. So we got the Robertson Not-So-Traditional. Rod was okay with that.

Next month is Rod's sister's wedding in Scotland. It's a given, once again, that Rod will be in his kilt. I am trying to find a dress to wear myself... and on Friday I found a nice one. I covere up most of my bad points, accentuated some of the good, and was generally a good dress, with one serious flaw. Color. If you put me together in a picture with Rod in his green-y blue plaid and me in my crazy blue-and-brown-and-ivory print dress, you would potentially be blinded by sheer oversaturation of pattern.So, back to the drawing board on the dress front.

Maybe I could go back in time and grab an old kilt from my Catholic school days at Bay View Academy. It wouldn't be the same tartan as Rod's but it would be crazy funky print either. And it would have the obious plus of taking me back in time to 8th grade, when one is at one's most awkward stage in life. Man, you could not pay me enough to go back to being thirteen again.

But you could pay me to wear the plaid!