We’ve been married for two weeks today, wahoo! I guess it’s a little early to celebrate too hard since I’m not a Kardashian. Anyway, the weather is gorgeous today and I want to get my hands dirty in my back-yard. James and I built garden-boxes last year to grow herbs and a few vegetables. I did a whole bunch of research and decided raised-garden beds are right for us. Unfortunately this was around the same time that Dad got sick so I never got to use them. Chloe occasionally treats them like a doggie litterbox.
But this year things are different. Everything has changed for me, in good and bad ways I’m just rolling with the punches as best I can. iI can remember exactly what I did last year on St. Patrick’s Day: I worked in the garden and made a stew of stout and beef served with soda bread. Despite my saying everything has changed, I plan to do the exact same thing todaybecause it’s fun. I like the idea of “working my land” (or my tiny rented back yard) and making stew. Seems like an idealized day. I do not, however have a big cotton dress and apron, like an idealized woman living out on a farm. You know, like in that terrible movie about Dylan Thomas (I know Welsh, not Irish but that’s not the point) in which Sienna Miller and Keira Knightley wore sweaters and boots and looked gorgeous all of the time (when they weren’t glammed up and/or nude) .\
Anyway, I’m making this awesome beef stew I found on All Recipes last year. It was so good James begged me to make it again this year. So tonight’s menu will be:
- Beef And Irish Stout Stew
- Soda Bread
- Mashed potatoes (because I live on mashers)
- The rest of the pack of stout I didn’t use in cooking
We plan to stay in tonight, for amateur night. It was enough to see a drunk fellow plow into a parked car last year (when SPD was on a Thursday) but the combo of a Saturday and St. Patrick’s Day is going to be a disaster. I think board games and inside times — maybe we can watch the terrible movie about Dylan Thomas, haha. Or better yet, the awful flick about James Joyce.
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