The proper response is:
And the rest of the day
Dad was born and raised in Glesga, so it was the Scottish brogue that I heard as a wean. Ma gran, his maither's folks were from Northern Ireland. That doesn't mean much to people on this side of the pond, but it means that I wasnae allowed to wear green for St. Patty's Day, lest I disturb the dead--"yer ancestors 'd be whirlin' and twirlin' in their graves, lassie!" But I'd get pinched and hit at school--so I eventually made a skirt with a tarten* of green AND orange in it, to appease everyone. Dad said the Irish flag had a green stripe for the Catholics, (southern 2/3 of Ireland), an orange stripe for the Protestants (Northern Ireland), and a white stripe in the middle "for the peace there'll ne'er be between 'em."
*BTW, a plaid is the large piece of fabric you throw over the shoulder of your black jacket when you're in full formal dress wearing of your kilt. It's made from the same woolen fabric, dyed in the same tartan as your kilt. Each family name has a tartan of their own, but you can wear another clan's tartan if your family used to fight with that larger clan. Like I have permission to wear the McDonalds, or the red Stewart tartan due to me faither's last name. (Not McGier--that's a pen name I made up.)
Irish people often wear solid-color kilts. I've seen them at Highland games, where there's the tossin' of the caber (large pole as big as a telephone pole that men have to toss so it lands end-over-end), and haggis tossin'. (According to me faither, that's all you want to do with haggis--toss it! Eating it requires a gun on the table between you and your friend. You hold the gun to his head to make him eat it, then he does the same to you!)
Oh, and me faither's favorite response to "What's unna-below yer kilt, laddie?" Answer--"A wee set o' bagpipes."
When she gets fired from yet another lab for being unwilling to "fake" lab results to get what the client wants, she despairs of being able to get another job. She crashes in the spare room of her bestie's apartment. He's a Black gay man, but they've been friends since grade school--since she used to help him beat up guys who threatened him, or called him names. Freddie suggests to her that she apply as a science teacher at a small private academy high school in Maine. This ends up changing both of their lives.
Read an excerpt: www.fionamcgier.com/werewolves.html
Buy links: books2read.com/u/4Eow6z
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