Kathleen and I agreed today that regardless of the season during which you visit Scotland, bring a coat. I visited during July and it felt like a Tucson winter. A cold, blustery, rainy winter day. It was somewhere in the low 60s but it felt colder because of the a fore mentioned cold-blustery-rainyness. Kathleen visited in December, so I can only marvel at the fact that she did not lose several toes and part of her nose to frostbite.
In other news, I'm trying to convince our neighbors that a Scotsman/woman lives at our house. My dad, for some reason, is dead sure that all of our neighbors hear everything we say in our backyard, so he's forever shushing us when we're talking out there. Our 'inside voices' are our 'outside voices'. Working off this theory, whenever I call Mia inside I do it in a rich, badly-done, Scottish brogue. Like, "Come on, ya wee, daft dog! Get inta the hoos!" I don't do it every time; I try to pepper it throughout the day. There hasn't been feedback yet, but I like to think that I've perplexed people. That's reward enough.
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