Just call me bi-polar...

Something odd happened to me, today. I stumbled onto a reference to Professor Myles Dillon, who was once teaching Irish at the University College, Cork in the School of Irish Learning. Back in the 50s or early 60s, he recorded himself reading 11 poems in Gaelic, including one I'd used in APoS-NWFO -- Pangur Ban. Spoke the poems onto a wax record.

Dr. Kevin Murray, another professor at the school stumbled onto the record some years later and made cassette recordings of it...and it was lovely.

That segued into me finding out the men who handled the spoken Gaelic histories and stories were referred to a seanchaí, the bearers of folklore...so Brendan's father was considered one...which he finds out was under the name Edward Gorman, not Eamonn Kinsella.

So I pulled up the latest draft of HNH to add this information in, since I don't have memory enough for a Commodore 64...and before I knew it I was back into rewriting volume 3. It's at 94,000 words now.

Here I'd given up on finishing it, this year, and suddenly I'm back into it and feeling very solid. There's one section of chapters that will need to be rewritten a couple of times, and that's it. The rest is pretty well set. I'd given up over nearly nothing.

Makes me feel really good about myself...sure does. More like I'm too easily led into hysterics by my sense of inadequacy. So we'll see what happens.

Of course, there's another category 3 or 4 hurricane headed for Tampa on the day I'm set to fly through there to go to my nephew, Andrew's wedding. So I spent the evening moving my trip to San Antonio up a day to go through Baltimore, instead. Cost me the last of my points, but it's worth it.

Florida's getting a pounding, this year. It's as if God is telling them their current government needs to be done away with. Of course, the MAGAts won't see it that way, but it is what it is.

And I'm happy to be going nowhere near that state.