Going out

I love my downtown. It's so tiny and quaint.

Though actually there are two around here; my town has a downtown, which is three blocks long at most, and the city next over has one as well, which is the one pictured here.

 It's bigger, but still not very large by any stretch of the imagination, and quaint in its own way.

  I don't go very often, so it's rather a treat.

I did go two Saturdays ago, however, for dinner. 

And ice cream.

Granted, it doesn't take much to excite me; I don't get out much.

But it was fun.

...

So, I made a baby blanket quilt. And gave it away without taking a single photograph. Which is too bad, because it was fluffy and had flowers on it. Not to brag or anything...

When the day begins after less than six hours of sleep

Alarm goes off. Pretend alarm clock is an extraordinarily loud mosquito and attack accordingly. Wait customary three minutes before getting out of bed, because sitting there a little longer is going to make you less tired. Ha. Do whatever it is that's supposed to be done. Get dressed. You're not going to remember this anyway. Makeup. Try the new foundation you bought. Turns out, it's too dark. Lightest shade my foot. Running out of time, so decide to hide it with powder. Now earrings, which should be in the little fancy canister. Spend at least two minutes trying to scoop them out. Make tea, the lazy way. Honestly, you can't put the kettle on all the time. Then splash of milk, add the sugar, pour it in a travel mug. Grab your bag and backpack, leave for work.

7:00 a.m. Arrive, say hello and goodbye, and go inside. Put your stuff down, head for the couch, and lay down and drink the tea.

8:57 a.m. Hear the baby start talking. Wake up, check the clock and do the math. Over an hour, praise the Lord. Get up, and put the kettle on.

And now it really begins.

Not a green-dyed beverage in sight

But there is this brown soda bread which, in my opinion, is so. much. better. The recipe is the one that the wonderful Imen shared at Farmette, where she referred to it as "the president of brown bread". And she was so right. It was definitely worth the extra time spend translating all of the measurements (honestly, does everyone in Europe own a kitchen scale?), and was so delicious that I made another loaf for the neighbours across the road.

Also, I made lamb stew for dinner. Not exactly posh, I know, but I love it. An old friend of ours taught my mom and I how to make it. Her name was Mary, she was from Ireland, and as a child I loved listening to her talk. She used to make this stew every year for the Internatinal Festival the church we went to at the time had. I'll bet you can't guess which booth she ran.

It's a delightfully simple recipe. Take some lamb, potatoes, carrots, and onions, chopped up and put in layers in a pot with salt and pepper sprinkled over it, and add enough water to cover it. Bring to a boil, then take the temperature down and simmer "'til it's done". It's somewhere between one and two hours. The bonus is that it's even better on the second day, so I made enough to have plenty of leftovers.

You couldn't see it in the first picture, but this one is proof of my impatience. Apparently I can't wait the twenty seconds it takes to snap a photograph before starting to eat. (That's also why only half of the bowl is visible in the stew photo; the other half is mostly empty.)

Slan abhaile, and a belated "Happy St Patrick's Day" to all of you.

Guess what?

 

 

The family that I work for got a dog. He is eight months old, sweet as pie, wonderful with the baby... but he loves to chew things. Preferably plastic, but will work with whatever is at hand. Such as my black ballet flats. I need new ones now.

 

It's a good thing he's adorable.

 

 

Oh, you may remember that a while ago I mentioned changes in the look hereabouts. Well, I like the layout so it really comes down to a new header and tweaking the colour scheme. I have plans in the header department and, if my photo editing skills are up to it, it should be quite pretty. I'll do that soon. I hope.