My better educated friends recognize Robert Burns as the Scottish poet. And the midweek celebration was to fall on his actual birthday (January 25).
According to the official Robert Burns' website:
The annual celebratory tribute to the life, works and spirit of the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns (1759-1796). Celebrated on, or about, the Bard's birthday, January 25th, Burns Suppers range from stentoriously formal gatherings of esthetes and scholars to uproariously informal rave-ups of drunkards and louts. Most Burns Suppers fall in the middle of this range, and adhere, more or less, to some sort of time honoured form which includes the eating of a traditional Scottish meal, the drinking of Scotch whisky, and the recitation of works by, about, and in the spirit of the Bard.
These friends opted for something in-between, leaning closer to "infomal rave-ups of drunkards and louts" than "gatherings for asthetes and scholars." As it fell during finals week for Ashley, and the day before Don was going in for a routine procedure, I went alone. I reconnected with some of Stacy's athletic friends, and met new ones.
I should have asked someone to take a picture of me. I wore my kilt.
Stacy made a haggis she procured from a Scottish shop that seems to exist solely for Robert Burns' Day. We did not discuss what haggis is exactly, but I can tell you it is tastier than I would have imagined.
Speeches and toasts were made. Candy did a great job reading in the original dialect, even though none of us speak Scottish. It added some flair to the event.
Stacy served it with mashed potatoes, rhubarb, and plenty of alcohol.
Stacy's party inspired me. I have not entertained much in the past few years for whatever reason -- the house is too messy, it costs too much to entertain, would anyone really come, it is too much work. Stacy with her tiny house and her big heart showed me the fun outweighs the worry.