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Tonight's enchiladas went well enough...I tend to think they were a bit dry, and perhaps I shouldn't have waited to add the sauce. I was a bit worried that I'd scorch it, but...upon further consideration, I don't think I'd have done. Flavour-wise, it all came together well, and there wasn't terribly much assembly involved. I'd do it again. I've got all of the ingredients to make another batch, so it's likely I will do it again, and soon, providing something else doesn't come to my mind to try with it all first. 

I've got 'The Girl from Ipanema' cycling its way through my grey matter, thanks to being 'kidnapped' to Rio on Facebook. 
Sing it with me:
Dark and tan and 
Young and lovely the
Girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes each one
She passes goes 'Aaaaaaah'. 

Or something to that effect. I could go and look up the proper lyrics to it, but Shan't Do. So. 

Why does my formatting disappear whenever I do something new to my entry? Seriously. If I change a heading to bold, and then later some text to italics, the bold goes away. It's mad. And a puzzlement. And annoying. 

I should be packing up for our trek out to Atlanta for the fact-finding phase of Project Peaches. Instead, I'm drinking in the bar and writing journal entries about things I should be doing. I should be doing the washing up as well. 'Cos...I'd rather not leave it as it is for the weekend. It'll take over the house and drive the cars into a tree. The same tree. At the same time. Shaddow and I have bought identical rolling rucksacks for ourselves. They're quite clever, and we're rather pleased. They'll serve as a place to stash clothing and a laptop bag. They're grand. They're blue. 

The fellow from Promove wrote to me again. I gave him the short list of places I'm going to have a look at this weekend. Perhaps that'll get him off my back. Ha. I keep re-thinking what I should/shouldn't want to take with me. Nothing I'd want to bring back, I'm thinking. Large things, I mean. Art supplies, clothing, bodhran, that lot - sure, I'll be bringing that back with me. Furniture, on the other hand...Jesus, why do it twice? I had thought that I'd take nothing at all, and find things there via charity shops and Craigslist, now I'm wondering whether I shouldn't bring a few things that Orion Rising could do with replacing (or without altogether). Of course, it isn't as though we couldn't sell or donate those things here... I need to take a decision one way or the other and quickly. By Monday, I'll say. 

I've found another seisiun at a place in Douglasville on Wednesday nights. I think this one will be a bit more like the Gilligan's one. I can go and play there, and then go to the Fado one to listen. I'm not terribly keen on showing up to Fado without an invitation. Rick did say that he'd make a long-distance introduction, so...perhaps I needn't worry, and that would mean two seisiunna I could play every week. :D

That would be grand. :D I practised a bit tonight, not my bodhran playing, mind (which at the moment needs the most work, argh. I've hit a wall. There. I've said it - I move past it now), but practise all the same. My voice is squeaky. Much in the way a capybara's might be.
'Alright, I believe you.'

Sort of thing. 

Orion Rising
Is it mad of me to want to clean the place up spic and span before I go? Seriously? Am I making strife for myself? I'm thinking in the future to the holidays, and when I'll be back, and how I'll never want to have to fuck with it then, and...various and sundry other things, 'cos my time will all be compressed, and the filing's a bit mad - and can you see how frenetic this sentence has become? Sure, right. :| I'll have to make a list, I will. One of things to do and things that I shouldn't be bothering with. Packing should be on that list. Can I tell you how little I wish to take on that task? Seriously? Good God. 

So. There's where it all stands. I suppose I should go and prepare for tomorrow. 

Slan go foill...


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