About two weeks ago I came home to find the Hubster grinning from ear-to-ear. Now while he has an excellent sense of humor, he’s not much of a grinner.
“What?” I asked him skeptically. “What’s going?”
“I just got a voicemail from U.S. customs.”
My mind started grinding through all the possible reasons Customs could be calling us and blurted the obvious one out.
“The kilt’s here!” It wasn’t a question. I knew that’s what it was as soon as I said it.
“Don’t know what else it could be. It’s here.”
Now both of us were grinning. Children at Christmas waiting for Santa to arrive.
Just to recap for those of you who may not know, our oldest manchild, Surfer Dude, is getting married in the fall. He’s been saying since he was too young to know better that he wanted to wear a kilt for his wedding. So we are accommodating his wishes and set about having one made for him.
The Hubster has been in charge of kilt-wear, which brings us to U.S. Customs and the arrival of the kilt.
The next day I came home to find my guy actually speaking with Customs. When he hung up the phone he mumbled something about ransom.
“Ransom?” I asked.
“They needed $80 Customs tax before they can send it.” He said and mumbled something about wanting to see the kilt. He was like a kid whose birthday celebration got cancelled.
“It’ll get here soon,” I told him.
Two days later I returned home from work to find the kilt splayed out across the living room coffee table.
“What do you think? He asked.
Well, it was beautiful. He picked it up, wrapped it around his waist and said, “Our boy is a whole lot skinnier than I am.”
“He has a 33-inch waist…so yes, he is.”
We looked the kilt over pretty carefully, and marveled at the engineering of it; quite a piece of work. And of course there was the belt, and the big buckle to go along with all the other bits and pieces that had arrived over the preceding weeks – the little knife and the socks, the pin to keep the skirt closed and the hairy pouch-purse thingy.
The next day the Hubster packed it all up and sent it to its new home in Oregon.
We got a call yesterday. The package had arrived on Saturday.
“Do you like it?” I asked him.
“It’s great. Beautiful, “ he said. “I put it on and wore it all day on Saturday.”
“Don’t wear it out before September,” I told him.
“I won’t, thanks for doing this. It’s perfect.”
I carried the phone back to his father. They chatted for half an hour – they have become co-conspirators in the wedding plans and talk endlessly, like a couple of teenage girls plotting.
So the wedding preparations move on. There’s a rehearsal party to figure out and a wedding day brunch to plan, and our half of the guest list to complete….

Contact Judy Watts at 873-9424 or jwatts@journalscene.com.