No apology needed, Anne; although "River Dance" was of Irish origin, you've certainly got the right idea, for the most part, and a good eye for detail; I shouldn't have used the descriptor between, as that sounded like a measurement - I meant it as in from & to; kilt hose are long, mostly wool, & ribbed, and are indeed worn right up to the bottom of the knee and then cuffed over, usually hiding the garter-portion of the flashes (the little tartan wool "pennants" that hang a couple inches down from the cuff over the body of the stocking, on the outer calf).mrsl wrote:
Kilt: Again I apologize since I was speaking in plurals - kilts, plaids, socks. I've often heard the term tartan plaid and obviously the person speaking was unaware that plaid was an unnecessary word addition. When I saw The River Dance, the stockings were all at the knee, not between the knee and ankle. Some people, you never know what they will do, do you?
Speaking of what some people will do, or as my grammy used to say: "what folks get up to", the only Scottish garb no-no that really bothers me is when I spot men who can't seem to wear their kilts where they belong - i.e., with the apron hem level with the middle-to-top of the kneecap, & no higher, and the girth (the front topline) crossing directly over the navel, or no more than an inch above it.
And trust me, it matters not how "good" a guy's legs are, or what his personal style might be there are just no excuses for wearing a kilt "mini" style - whether from ignorance or arrogance, it's insulting to those who take their heritage & history seriously, and misleading to the public who genuinely desire to understand us better.
Nope, Cait had them served to her by her Cherokee mentor who hailed from Louisiana, so they were simply steamed to tenderness & slathered with olive oil, so that was how she served them to us.mrsl wrote:
Artichokes:. . . I hope you liked them, and I also hope they were stuffed like we Italians make them.
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Don't worry though; I've got a tour of Lambeau Field on my Bucket list, so come that year, I'll just detour from Amtrak and come over to your place for artichokes italiano, OK?
Don't worry, I'll email you first!