Ask me to cook a dinner, and I don't fool around.

Not too terribly much to report today. I spent the morning going back and forth between hanging out in my room, and hanging out with whatever kids and cousins happened to be in the living room at the time. It hasn't rained today, but the sky's been threatening all afternoon. Just as I was about to go out on a walk, Carole asked if I could help with some cleaning - so the four of us (Carole, me and the boys) spent the afternoon cleaning all of the wood in the house. Apparently she was inspired by my handiwork in Dublin. And heavens, there's a lot of wood in this house. At 4:30, Carole drove me into Kerrykeel (literally five minutes down the road, and I would have walked except I had to go for groceries... and I didn't want to walk back with a bag full of raw chicken) and dropped me off in front of the grocery store. I got broccoli and 5 chicken breasts - still looking for garlic bread. I feel like I've got to make this perfect; obviously, because I've spent two days in grocery stores. Which I actually have loved, surprisingly. Y'know, that was my first time going to the butcher's - he was a nice fellow, and when I found him he had just removed a frozen and bloodied pig carcass from the freezer and slammed it onto the table. Thankfully he was a bit more respectful towards my chicken - he even asked how I wanted it cut up. It's funny, everyone asks me if I'm on holiday, and I can't help wondering if they think that my cold-influenced voice is simply part of my accent. I hope not.

We're heading off to Ray's brother's house in a bit for dinner, and he's ordering us pizza from Domino's. I like this fellow already.

Also, I've been doing quite a bit of ticket-reserving for the England trip. I have a travel itinerary that I've been keeping, and it's wonderful to be able to write "Booked!" next to the to-do items on the list.

I wish I could be doing some good writing up here, but I'm sort of dry on ideas. It's terrible. It's so beautiful all around me, and every time I step outside, my head is full of words and phrases with what feels like ten tons of potential. But as soon as I come inside to write, the ideas have flown away. And it's too cold to write outside. sigh. I guess we all have our little problems, don't we?