Okay, so I turned in the rough draft to a report which analyzes the Irish language to my TA a few weeks ago. It was just the rough draft, so he probably scanned it over quickly, approved it, and sent me an e-mail back saying "I like that you're using multiple sources".
Well, that's great.
The only problem is that none of my sources give me even a full declension of a noun. (Stenson 2008) tells me how to form the genitive of 6 different second-declension nouns, but not the dative or vocative. (Irish-English Dictionary 1998) tells me the full declension, without translation, gloss, or labels -- so is "an tslat mhór" supposed to be "extensive criteria" or "a big stick"? Seeing as 'slat' seems to be the basic formation from which 'tslat' is derived, and means "rod, pole, stick; rules, criterion", and 'mhór' apparently means "1) big, large; 2) extensive" ... well, I'm not sure. (O'Siadhail 1989) would be glad to tell me how second-declension nouns have different vowel structures in Donegal and Cois Fhairrge, assuming I understand what a second-declension noun does in Official Standard Irish.

Plus, does anyone have any idea about in-paper citing a work with author unknown? I'm just doing something like "Irish employs two grammatical genders, masculine and feminine, which usually follow semantic gender (Stenson 2008: 31). There are four cases: nominative/accusative (subject), dative (object), genitive (possessive), and vocative (Wright 1860: §9; Irish-English Dictionary 1998: 266).". Still, citing "Irish-English Dictionary 1998: page" is kind of ridiculous, especially given that my university reserves the right to expel students for plagiarising if they don't cite the source of the information at the end of each technical sentence (or stretched, maybe, over a couple sentences of information). Similarly, just how am I supposed to cite an article titled "Copulating with the Copula 1"? Preferably I'd find information about the copula function somewhere else, but that's the best I've found online, and I don't have any better books on me right now (and they're checked out from the library, too...). I just put "Copula article from irishgaelictranslator.com", but that's damn awkward, and "Copulating with the Copula article" would be even weirder.

I think I'm gonna go in and ask my TA some of these questions. (Still, moonystone, if you feel like helping out a poor undergraduate......)
He is, after all, the one who was glad I was using multiple sources.

>.

Title: Hidden
Watercolour, 7"x7"



Click on Preview for Full Image
(also, more notes on deviantart, too. :) )

( I have a second version, computer edited to look a bit [better?] )


Comments? Please?

Author: Aisha, a dear friend of mine. (c)2009.
I think this is one of the most beautiful poems I've read in a long, long time.

Some days this mind runs clear with waking sun,
On others it is silty, flecked with gold.
And there are times my mind has been undone.
And times at which I’ve felt it all go cold.

And yes, it’s burned before, but all that’s left
Are ashes and a sky that cannot rain,
And somewhere in that brilliant ground a cleft
Where nothing from this earth will live again.

You say that I should let this poison go,
And find a sky that rains a dark release.
And in the end that every mind must slow,
And learn the quiet languages of peace.

But I would give away my lifetime’s rain
To feel the touch of fire once again.

Think most people who look here have seen this elsewhere (namely, Facebook) by now, but for completeness's sake:

Title: To Fit In
Medium: Acrylic paints
Notes: This was painted on one half of a 24"x22" canvas. I'm going to go paint something else on the other half now.


(Click cropped preview for full image on deviantART.)

and please leave comments?

Title: Fantastic:Familiar (aka "That Dragon One" :P)
Rating: Cute
Notes: at DeviantArt (click the preview for the link!)



(acrylic, 22"x30", lots of work, please leave a comment/feedback!)

Title: Passion in Red
Warning: (artistic) feminine nudity

This is the first painting I've actually finished in a while. In a few months. It took nerve, for me to pick it back up and finish. When I started, the first line on the paper was the curve in the preview. It turned into a waist, and from there, the image evolved. I thought of curves, of passion, of love as I painted the woman's side. I thought of a small jewelery box a friend gifted me with when I was very young, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, that I thought was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.



( Full view beyond cut )

Watercolour, 15"x20", on 140lb cold press paper.


Comments will earn you adoration. Please?

I want to sell some art -- prints and/or originals. I've been looking at general guidelines in various places around the good ol' world wide web, seeing as this would be my first time selling online, but I'm interested in anyone's input.

Primarily, if you were to be interested in buying my art, what kind of art, or pieces, would you be interested in most? A particular genre or subject matter, a particular style or medium? I'm fairly versatile, but a bit of focus and practice can't hurt. Mind, I do prefer traditional media -- don't have PS or a tablet, for one thing -- so any suggestions should be limited to that area.

Would anyone be interested in commissions? Take a look through my gallery for ideas, if you'd like.

Is there anyone who would like a print of any of my older works, or the originals? I'm quite open to selling some of these to jump-start the process, so make an offer and I can tell you what I think.

I'm also interested in just simple art-trades -- you write, draw, paint, or otherwise create something for me, and I'll do the same for you. Any takers? (you do have to give me an idea, but...)

Okay, to be honest, I'm getting desperate for someone to give me a kick in the ass and say: DO THIS, NOW!.
Please?
I just need a "THIS".... :/



Slightly off topic, though: my older sister's boyfriend, who works at ReSource, a material recycling facility, brought home some kitchen cabinet doors, and broken glass tiles in a myriad of colors. I think I'll try to do a mosiac with him... it would be fun.

1) I need to pick up a decent sleep schedule: which is to say, bed by 10:00, wake by 6:30/7:00-ish. it really doesn't work for me to be awake at 11:00 every night .... *says after a week of staying awake to 11:00-12:00 every night*

2) I have artses that are ALMOST done -- a nice watercolour of a woman's side *gestures at just-below-shoulder level and upper-thigh level* (what, female curves are nice!) that'll need about 15 min of work and a signature .... a graphite drawing of a dragon that I just need to take/upload a picture of .... and some ideas for artses to be done: a man nestled in a heart's cavity and/or someone climbing up the vena cava to nestle in the heart, an idea of a fairy painted in solid, shining gold cuddled up in a man's hands ... Plus, I'm almost done painting my bedroom walls again in a chicory, cornflower, and periwinkle (purpley-er) blues. I've been sleeping in the T.V. room for a week now, and my mother is slightly annoyed with me :P ....

Just need to take out my camera.

Tomorrow.

Especially considering that I just spent 20 minutes after saying "I need to sleep".. well, not sleeping.


Random: HP -- seeing Wednesday, I think. *quietly* yay (!) ... *carefully avoids awakening her inner fangirl, lest she be drawn into things that it would be best to stay out of ... *


Also, baz (and anyone else), I'm friendlocking this journal soon. Tomorrow, probably ... so, enjoy it while you can... or.. something... If you'd like to continue following this page, create an LJ account (if you don't have one already), and ask to be added, and I probably will comply. Thanks...

and bye. really. sleepnow. nownownow.

I am back, I did come back on my scheduled flight (two weeks ago)... I've written a few journals and not finished them, not posted them....
There are lots and lots of pictures to come... :)

I posted one of the prettier ones on deviantART: "Bealtaine", here.


also, just so everyone knows, I'm leaving this journal public for now -- but I'm sort of considering moving it to friends only. Any comments on that possibility are welcome....

*shrugs* and now I'm off to... get away from the computer. Making me tired.

Because it seriously sucks to be reminded that I actually do have to go "home", regardless of where I'd actually prefer to be (which is here, dammit). I've been having a lovely time, drowsy and green (and actually sunny some of the time, and I don't mind sitting inside and drinking gorgeously strong and sweet and milky tea when it's rainy). Spent the last week and a half in Co. Donegal, which has frighteningly narrow country roads bordered by high hedges, and lots and lots of cows and sheep (was in a quite small town a ways inland). It's... stunningly green and overgrown, especially to a girl born and raised in a "semi-arid" climate -- means it's "not quite a fucking desert, but with the worst lawns in the world, because nothing grows if not tended to, except bindweed (which kills everything else)". And I've spent many a lazy day cuddling and chatting and watching films and shows and whatnot. Seen the first season of Death Note, plus a bunch of movies -- Milk and The Station Agent last night, and most notably the Battlestar Galactica film, Leon The Professional.... em, quite a few more, too.
Currently back in Armagh, in a house with both computer and phone. I'm somewhat amused and appreciative of the fact that my mother is convinced that the charge to call her is very very high, which means I don't have to call her often, and she hangs up quite quickly... a nice change.


So, the visa in my passport says "Leave to Enter for Six Months"... so is it worth it to just not fly back on the 15th of June? *wistful smile* School doesn't start until the third week of August, I could cancel this ticket and transfer to another... and... yea, I shouldn't try to talk myself into it, because I might very well succeed.

Just so everyone (who reads this) knows... I'm goin' to Ireland on Friday. Bought the ticket yesterday (cheap last-minute type, $673 including taxes/fees), because I was going absolutely nuts. See last post for details.

I might get a chance to update this journal, although it might be difficult if I can't get to a computer and/or can't remember the password.

Otherwise: I'll be back on June 15th (though I'll probably need sleep at that point, after about 24 hour awake...). Seeee ya then!

(and yes, Cenny, I will take pictures! :P)

So, it's nearly 1 AM. It probably will be past 1 AM by the time I finish typing this and/or delete it or post it. I'm an early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise-r by nature, but tonight I can't sleep. I simply can't. When I blew out my candles to fall asleep, I stupidly managed to spill some hot wax on my arm. I guess it woke me. I spent an hour tossing and turning, then went to the kitchen and read for an hour, or perhaps it was two. I came back and tossed and turned for another twenty minutes or so, and turned on my computer, and eventually came to post this.

My tossings and turnings bore many imaginings: of the ocean on my walls -- and I want to paint my bedroom blue, three shades of blue in three shades of life and mood to me -- and of a new bed (this one is far too narrow, and my feet hang off the end). I dreamt of the wind whistling and telling me things, although I was not asleep enough to dream, and although the wind is not blowing except in gentle summery breaths through my open window. I cried, at one point, for the sorrow inherent in humanity, I think -- or at least, I have no idea why I was crying. I'm crying now, again, still, and I'm none the wiser.

My stomach aches, and my belly is cramping painfully, and my heart hurts worse. I'm hugging the plush bear Joe gave me when last we met and crying into the soft fur. I don't mind crying on principle, but I hate the feeling of tears running down my cheeks or across my nose or into my ears. Though I've thought, sometimes, of what it would be like to never have him again; the uncertainty that plagues me now is a harsh reminder of those thoughts. Fleeing into his hugs is the sweetest thought I have, the dream I cling to when these moods strike, but when I'm unsure of the soonest I can actually do so... it hurts me even worse.

It's not that I'm unsure that I will see him again, though that lingers beneath in the darkness, barely visible. I'm unsure of when, and although I've learned flexibility in place of rigid plans that govern everything in ritualized formation, having a rope ladder instead of a steel one is no good if I have nowhere to tie it to, nowhere to climb towards. When I came online, the first site I went to was Continental Airlines. I so very nearly hit "buy" when I found a ticket -- one month for ~$600 total, leaving on this next Thursday; two days and ten hours from now. My heart beat harder and my stomach ached worse, and I couldn't choke back sobs when I forced myself to close the window and recite rote chants of "It wouldn't be practical, don't be stupid, don't be a burden or an impediment on everyone else, your happiness doesn't mean anything".... They are familiar chants. I thought I'd given them up. They are the beginnings of prayers to a depression I once relied upon and suckled upon: "I am your butter and your bread/ I am the voice inside your head/ I am the one who fills you up/ with a lack of being fed". "Quo me nutruit, me atterit: What nourishes me, destroys me". "And the kick is so divine when she sees bones beneath the skin; she says, 'Hey baby, can you bleed like me?'".

And the irony of it is that I can come to the same conclusion -- "I am worthless" -- from two points that are so vastly different. The only way to counter it is to believe that I am loved and that I am worth that love, and the love I give in return is considered to be worth something. It's harder to believe that all that is true in regards to my own family, than in regards to Joe. For a long time, I haven't doubted my parents' and siblings' love as much as I consider it as obligatory as it is unconditional. I guess that's why my love for Joe is easier to believe in. It's not obligatory, but it is unconditional. I'm quite certain that the same could be said of his love for me.

That same conclusion doesn't come naturally to our relationship. I don't want to besmirch it by forcing myself to think these thoughts, but the other option is saying "FUCK IT!" (and trust me, it would come out as a scream), buying that ticket, getting on the plane in two days and worrying about the consequences later.

It's very tempting to just hit "buy". (And it quite helps that cause that I can actually afford the damn ticket, too).

today's been a strange day.
It's been one of those days where I stay in my bathrobe most of the day, and when I decide to get dressed, I end up wearing pajamas... well, it's a step up, isn't it? I woke at about 7:30 AM, a usual time for me. I keep meaning to go out. I haven't left the house in three days. I got out of school on Tuesday. I really don't understand how I can get such AWFUL scores on my Chemistry tests, because I do the math (which I'm very well practiced at by this point, thank you!) and get an answer that is one of the multiple choices, and end up with a 50-60%-ish score. It doesn't make any sense. I'm looking at a D in Chem, a D (I hope) in Calculus, and A or A+ s in Anthropology and Linguistics. Pretty clear indication of which comes easy to me, innit? It makes me feel almost sick to my stomach to look at grades like that-- the only other bad grades I've gotten were a D in 8th grade Algebra (when my depression, sleeplessness, self harm, etc really kicked in)... and a C- in both AP Chem and Advanced Physics in high school.

I didn't take my meds for three days prior to this one. I did today, because I feel ... fragile and delicate, like any mood I have will shatter with the slightest of shocks. By the way, I have never been able to type the word 'shock' correctly, without first typing 'shcok' or 'schok' (the latter is phonetically the same, isn't it? sort of?)
I feel guilty too. It's sort of strange that I can feel guilty for feeling too good and for feeling not good enough at the same time, I think.

And physically, I've not been eating or drinking enough, I think, because I'm sort of dizzy and feel stupid. Oh well. I should get another mug of tea... maybe in a bit. You see, I am a breakfast person. I always have been, with the exception of the days of 100 calories or less, with no end in sight. I have good memories from when I was little of putting six or seven boxes of cereal in the grocery cart and mixing them all in one bowl for breakfast (what, Froot Loops and Raisin Bran and oatmeal and grapenuts and shredded wheat and Apple Jacks together are .. entertaining! although I've always hated Lucky Charms. Ew). So it's a bad sign when I don't eat breakfast. Usually it means I'm having a passionate argument with myself over the necessity of food vs. the necessity of vanity and pride.

*shrugs*

I guess it'll go away again. It always does....

So I've been reading a few different mental illness/health blogs recently. Primarily, I've been keeping up with (and sometimes reading back in) The Secret Life of a Manic Depressive, and today I read a few articles from Bipolar Blast - Beyond Meds. I think I read the former because it's ... I can't find the word, "interesting" shall have to serve .. to see a "properly crazy" person writing (very well) about why she's crazy and what it's like, and in a way, to think "I could have been so much worse" makes me appreciate what I have (or in this case, what I don't have).

The latter, though, frustrates and annoys me. I'm trying to pin down "why", why does it annoy me so? It sort of feels like .. like my real life. My older sister is vehemently opposed to altering the body's "natural cycle" -- she won't take hormonal birth control, and wouldn't consider ever taking a psych med, I think, and sometimes she comes across as preachy when she starts lecturing me about how eating more protein when I'm in a bad mood will help. My mother is vehemently opposed to considering not taking her medications. I understand that this comes from a fear of her past -- her mother can be emotionally violent when the extreme moods strike her; her own past 'episodes' were terrifying, and rightly so; her son committed suicide, and she attributes this wholly to his mood disorder.

I like to think I rest in between, but that feels too much like calling myself 'better', which I'm not. Yesterday evening, when I was preparing dinner for myself, my younger sister tried to have a talk with me (and settled for having a talk at me, supplemented by my "mmhmm"s). She was telling me how mum was afraid I'd stopped taking my meds. I knew that; she's managed to stop asking every day, but she still is cautious around me. She says I've been "moody" and just asking for fights. See, between March-or-something-like-that '07 and November-or-something-like-that '08, I was on fairly high doses of quite a few medications: 300 mg Wellbutrin XL (buproprion HCl, an antidepressant), 300 mg Lamictal (lamotrigene, a stabilizer / antipsychotic / antidepressant), 10 mg Abilify (aripiprazole, a stabilizer), and 50 mg Seroquel (quetiapine, a sleepy drug) -- the Wellbutrin and Lamictal I took to give me a kick in the butt in the morning and at noon, and the Seroquel to give me an anti-kick-in-the-butt at night. The Abilify, I think, was just for good measure. It reminded me of a Paul Simon lyric (from what song I don't remember) when I was feeling particularly cynical: "you take uppers in the morning to get you on your way, and downers at night to get you off to sleep" (or something like that, anyway). I was dull. It was a good kind of dull, where everything was muffled and couldn't reach me -- sometimes I think that my brother's death didn't hurt as much as it should have, because I was hidden away and wrapped up in fog and blankets like that. In November '08, or aroundabouts that time anyway, I stopped taking them. I just.. stopped. Not recommended, by the way, and I had some interesting days of panicky energy and some days of naught, but I did, and I didn't start again, regularly, until mid January, and then I sorta stopped for a few weeks, and a couple weeks ago I agreed to take a low dose of Lamictal (100 mg, AM) and nothing else. Which I have kept to, by the way.

It.. it feels good to feel. It's interesting that in a way, the meds took me to a state similar to my old depression, that muffled nothing, and stopping them has me describing a different feeling the same way... as my old self-harm. That was a fairly convoluted sentence, wasn't it?

I can understand the anger felt by the anti-psychiatric-establishmentarianists, at so many years without emotion -- mine was a relatively short time spent under such fog. I also believe that without psychiatric medication and treatment, I would most likely be dead now.


I guess it boils down to the whole idea of moderation and understanding and empathy..... I wish the world had more believers in those things.



(Oh, and I apologize for the introspective streak I've been on....it's interesting to think so much. :P)

I was talking to my sister the other day (actually about.. three? i think! weeks ago) -- my older sis, that is, who is suitably wiser for all of the nine years between us -- and she had some pretty good advice. See, she said, "You and mom are .. well, you're going to have to make a livable, tolerable situation in that house somehow."

The only problem is, my mother dearest isn't making it easy, and I have no idea how to go about it. I understand that my main problem is that I'm ready to go away and fly the coop, except that I'm not anywhere near financially ready to do so, and my parents can't help much with rent (although I think they my father could afford for me to live in the campus dorms, so that might work out). My sis said "nineteen is a difficult age".

Right now it's at the forefront of my mind, because I am just SO FUCKING PISSED OFF AT MY FUCKING MOTHER THAT I CAN'T BEAR IT. ( so... rant, vent, whatever -- that's what the rest of this entry is going to be. )

*takes a deep breath and puts on a very sheer smile that probably doesn't mask a single fucking thing.*

So, on Tuesday I was walking through campus to my first class, and I see a sign. It's positioned so the big text (orange on black b/g) is about head high, and the sign itself is probably 4 x 2 foot. It says, "Warning: Graphic Pictures Ahead". Now, I'm not really interested in what "graphic pictures" are ahead, but I'm sort of annoyed by that sign. That annoyance turns to terrible, terrible anger when I keep walking and there's a huge display of pictures of aborted foeti, with statistics (did you know that 1.3 million pregnancies are aborted every year in the U.S.? No, and I don't think I should, because pregnancy is one of the most personal things that happens to a woman -- literally INSIDE of her! -- and it's none of my business, and definitely none of yours!!), with arguments about how uncaring and unloving we are towards fellow humans. The display was about 30' tall, in an equilateral triangle of panels, each 25' or so wide. I could not have avoided that, short of turning around, going to one end or the other of campus (it was arranged so it could be seen from most of the central buildings) and walking around.

I clenched my fists and walked on by.

Wednesday, it was still there.

Thursday, it was cold and rainy. I walked by that same display, and god, it still enraged me. But I felt pretty proud, pretty interesting, and when I left my first class (after which I have an hour off), I walked back to the display and confronted a few of the men standing around it. By the way, I'm terribly curious (and can't find any stats online) what proportion of pro-lifers are men -- you know, the sex that can't get pregnant and would never be forced to make a decision concerning abortion. So I started off saying that I wanted to hear their viewpoints. I knew that of course they'd try to convince me of their viewpoints. One of them held his umbrella over me, which was rather kind of him, but felt a bit patronising.

I brought up a few "hypothetical situations" that I've heard tell of actually happening, that I've considered and thought about. In one of them, I asked what they'd think if a woman who was mentally ill, manic depressive (yes, like me), got pregnant. Now, most psychiatric medications have a prim, small-print warning that says, "Women who are pregnant or planning to become pregnant should consult their doctors before taking this medication." This is because many medications, psychiatric or not, cause rather disturbing birth defects (missing limbs, missing brains, that kind of thing). It's a good idea for anyone who swallows any pills regularly to consult a doctor about medications interfering with pregnancy. So, we'll say that this semi-hypothetical woman is taking a medication that is known to cause severe birth defects. However, without this medication, she will literally go insane. Psychotic mixed episodes (which are the worst, in my experience, because you are simultaneously uncontrollably energetic and uncontrollably depressive), delusions, paranoia, the whole gamut. She might start drinking or use drugs to self-medicate for her madness, which would be just as harmful as taking the medication. So, I asked these two men, "Would you say that this woman should carry through with the pregnancy?"

They told me that she should stop taking the medication.

By the way, that is not a very hypothetical situation. I have wondered if it would happen to me, as it is definitely not impossible. I'm not taking very many medications now, in fact, I'm only taking one and I'm on a low dosage, for now. My mood disorder is rather mild in comparison to my "hypothetical situation" woman, but I know hormonal changes -- such as those brought by my menstrual cycle -- bring out the worst in 'me' (? I don't know if my moods, disordered as they are, should be called "me"...).
I've also been reading a blog by Seaneen, an Irish woman who is far more severely affected by manic depression than me, and her entry here more clearly, although less concisely, communicates the situation: Fear is the best contraceptive.

It insulted me and terrified me that they would say such a thing. To condemn a woman and subsequently her child to demons that they could not begin to imagine, let alone comprehend?


So, I played a bit of Devil's Advocate.

It actually amused me, when they tried to draw comparisons to slavery (white guys who owned slaves thought that it was right, too, so my thinking that abortion should be "right" is comparable*) and the Holocaust (which I could use in an example for the opposite argument, if I had a moment to think about it and write it down). When they tried to say that all life (especially life that has human DNA, even if it has no other human characteristics) should be preserved, and drew the comparison out to "would you kill a 6 year old child?", I said "I personally wouldn't, but I don't believe that that six year old has an unconditional right to life." I said it to be argumentative more than anything.

* As a note of clarification: I don't think abortion is "right", and I definitely don't think it should be the first option to be considered, and I believe that very, very rarely is it an easy choice to make. However, I cannot understand those who say it should not be a choice, that the option should not be available to those in need.


Eventually, we ended up agreeing to disagree. In my experience, I've usually heard their arguments "spun" to ridiculous levels of implausibility by their opponents. I wanted to hear their arguments from their own lips. Unfortunately, they argued themselves to ridiculous levels of implausibility, at least to my ears.

The bottom lines that those guys saw were that all life, especially (possibly arguably) human life, should be respected and legally protected. What I'd call "possibly arguably human life" (a foetus which might or might not have developed a heart beat and/or a noticeable brain) should be considered equal to "definitely unarguably human life" (the woman whose uterus said foetus occupied). They said that our over-sexed society had made "babies," a word which, in a very loose definition, also includes two-cell zygotes, "disposable".

The bottom line I see is quite simply summed up in a rather liberal-minded quip:
Against Abortion? Don't have one!
In many cases, women choose to keep their children. In some cases, women choose to abort their pregnancies. That choice, though, belongs to the woman alone, and anyone she cares to choose it with.


I'm still angry, although I think that discussion was worthwhile, just to see their point of view. I just wish I could make some of these 'pro-life'rs consider my point of view.

Is anyone up for a reallyyyy quick read-through of a paper I'm writing? It's for a language and gender class, and it has way too many long words, and I just need to know if it makes sense to other people.....

Please?

What would people say if I said "I think it would be a good idea for me to go live abroad for a year or possibly more, like really abroad, like China-abroad"?

(I can explain myself in any comments you guys make... mainly, I need a change. A really, really big one. And it's something to do to help me grow up, to see the world while I can. I need to sort myself out, find 'me', you know? I want to get a TEFL (Teach English as a Foreign Language) certificate and find a job and go to a country where English teachers are in demand... arrange deferment at my university... etc.)

"Classic" (with a few modifications) Soda Bread:
I really like this because it's a 'quick bread', not yeast-leavened. That means you have to work on it for about 20 min, toss it in the oven for about an hour, and pull it out and it's DELICIOUS. Really. First time I tried it I made a few (different) modifications, but this time I made it closer to the recipe given and was actually careful about measuring things... that's the recipe I give here.

( Good with soups and stews, or with butter/jam for breakfast, or ... anywhere, really. )


I'm also making a lamb+potato+onion+carrot stew (trick is to brown the meat and drop the bone into the pot to flavour the broth well)....

Oh, Easter. :)

Title: Promises
Notes: At devART, which is where the preview links..





Comments are very, very appreciated!