Scotland the Brave

Today I got two small booklets in the mail from James McBain, the chief of the clan and the McBain of MacBean. In case anyone missed it, my maiden name is MacBain, and I'm going to Scotland this spring. I had written the clan headquarters for directions to the MacBain memorial park outside Inverness, and they referred me to the chief. He sent cordial emails and said he would send me a booklet he'd written on the story of the clan from prehistory until the present. I can't wait to dig into it. He also sent me a booklet by his father, titled An American Scottish Chief. His father, Hughston (being a Texan I misspelled it as Houston) was Chief of the Clan when I was growing up in Chicago, and he used to talk on the phone to my dad about how they were related. I have a file of correspondence between the two after Dad retired to North Carolina. From a brief glimpse at that booklet, I see that the clan was without a chief and without land for about 200 years, not recognized among the clans of the Highlands. I gather Hughston brought it back to life, so I'm most excited to read these two books.
Spent some of the afternoon hyperlinking the short stories in Sue Ellen Learns to Dance back to the Contents page for the Smashwords edition--something they require for their "premium" catalog. It took me a bit to go back and figure out how to do that, although I'd already mastered linking the chapters to the content page. But it makes me proud when I can do it, so I'm gloating a bit tonight. We'll see if they accept it. I spend a lot of time revising my electronic books.  But in some ways Smashwords offers a much better product than Kindle. Just now I got word from Smashwords that the short story I've posted, free, The Art of Candle Dipping, has too many consecutive paragraph returns. Scarlet-like, I'm going to worry about that another day.
Tonight Betty and I had tapas at Sapristi, one of our favorite restaurants, and then I blew it--ordered chocolate mousse which I can rarely resist. Betty just watched me eat it, the wretch. Tapas were good--smoked salmon on toast, a skewer of chicken and mushrooms, Spanish torta (an egg and potato baked thing), dates baked in bacon, and endive filled with blue cheese, diced apple, and walnuts. A really good and healthy dinner if I hadn't had the mousse. But everyone's entitled to a splurge.

My heart's in the Highlands

I remember nights as a child when my father would play the piano and we would sing (neither of us could carry a tune in a bushel basket) "Annie Laurie," and "You take the high road, and I'll take the low, and I'll be in Scotland afore ye." (Are they the same song?) Dad was Scottish/Orange Irish and prized his heritage. When I was still young, Houston MacBain, CEO of Marshall Field and Co., was the MacBain of MacBain, the chief of the clan. He'd call Dad and talk about their common ancestry, and Dad always said if Houston MacBain wanted to think they're related, it was just fine with him. Today I have a piece of MacBain plaid carpet that Houston had woven, a hooked wall hanging that my mom did of the MacBain Clan crest, and a wonderful quilt of the plaid, with the crest in the center, that Colin and Lisa made for me one Christmas.  Colin has the sword carried by a MacBain in the War of 1812 (okay, he was on the wrong side but still . . .) I'm not sure what happened to the kilt I had, but I know I couldn't fit into it now. But I am a paid up member of the clan--and maybe of Clan Chattan, the amalgamation of smaller clans of which the MacBean (real name) is part.
I've always said I don't care about London, Paris, or Rome, but I want to go to the Highlands. Well, now I'm going. Colin and Megan, my two oldest children, are going with me this spring. We'll fly into Heathrow just to change planes and then on to Edinburgh. Mostly we'll base ourselves in Inverness--the MacBain Memorial Park is near there, as well, I think, as the family burying ground (I always heard it was above Lochness) and the family homestead--how disappointing, it's a farmhouse, not a castle! I've written the current MacBain of MacBain (chief of the clan) for directions to pertinent spots. But we'll take day trips from there to places like Culloden, where Bonnie Prince Charlie lost his battle against the Redcoats, and maybe Glenco, where the Campbells killed all the MacDonalds (if it's close enough). I think we can go to Pitlochry, which is supposed to be a picturesque town, and there are plenty of castles near Inverness. It won't be a long trip--neither the kids nor I can afford that, but I will be in the Highlands, and I am excited even now.
My children know that I've always wanted to go to Scotland. I almost went three years ago with Jeannie, but then her husband had life-threatening surgery, long times in ICU, and a long recovery. She won't ever leave him that long again. But I had studied Scottish history in preparation and was all ready for the trip. I can't begin to say how wonderful it is that my kids want to go with me and see that I have that experience. I am notably not a good traveler, but in their hands I feel comfortable and safe--and very loved. I may get weepy and sentimental about this, but I am so fortunate.
My mystery is going to be published, and I'm going to Scotland! I'm sure good things, like bad, happen in threes. So what's next? Maybe I'll meet a diashing Scot. I've always been a sucker for a man in a kilt--even unattractive men take on a certain air in a kilt.
Somebody pull me down off the ceiling!