Robbie Burns Day!

 Selkirk Grace 
by Robert Burns

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it:

But we hae meat and we can eat,

And sae the Lord be thanket.

It has been exactly one month since Christmas Day.  And that can only mean one thing.

HAPPY ROBBIE BURNS DAY!

While most Scots tucked into a proper Burns supper of roast beef and mashed potatoes, Joe and I enjoyed all beef hot dogs and potato pancakes around our fire pit.

A sincere apology to Burns fans everywhere.  We had no Scotch in the house, so we had to pinch hit with a bottle of Irish whiskey.

After we finished eating our delicious Burns supper, we piled a bunch of scrap lumber from our old fence onto the fire.  Just as I was about to launch our Christmas tree on top of the blaze, a local firefighter (who had seen the huge column of smoke from the road) sauntered around the corner of our house into our backyard asking if we had a campfire permit.

"Permit?  We need a permit?"

Seems that we now do.  And not only that, we can't burn lumber OR tree prunings.  Only aged firewood.

Oh, for Pete's sake.

He let us go with a warning.  We promised to get a permit the next time we have a backyard fire.

But man, we gotta a whole lotta fence panels yet to burn.


And in other breaking news:

While I was searching for a bottle of Scotch in Joe's booze cupboard, I noticed SIX JARS OF RASPBERRY JAM hiding in the corner behind some port and amaretto.  What the hell?!?!

My work here is not done, people.