unexpected cravings

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So, I've officially been writing on this blog for over a month now, and therefore, Nic and I have been vegetarian for over a month now, and yesterday I realised something surprising:

I don't miss meat.

I recall before we made the change fully, that we'd debated it- how we'd miss bacon, and how would we ever cook without using chicken as a staple? And what would we do if we couldn't have ham sandwiches for lunch?!
And I think that a lot of people struggle with these things, and think about them, and wonder how they'll get by, but... it's fine.
We've learnt a bunch of new recipes, and we're trying new things all the time- that's really exciting.
We're eating with a clearer conscience and voting with the decisions we make, and I love that feeling of empowerment.
We go to the supermarket and bypass huge sections, usually hitting up the fruit and veg, the dairy, and the tinned veggies. Yum.
We feel healthy and full.

I don't know whether it's because of the reasons I went vegetarian that I've found it so easy to not 'yearn for' meat, or whether that's just something we build up in our heads, because we're so used to it being a big part of how we eat, but it's genuinely surprised me that I have no desire to 'slip' and get that ham thing at the cafe. Maybe we thought of it more like a diet, where you deprive yourself even though you secretly want that slice of chocolate cake, and eventually you want it so bad that you go an eat the whole damn thing... But it's not.
There's been two times- once at a country, rural bakery where there were one or two veggie options and all of them were depressing, and I felt like throwing my hands up in the air and giving in (but got fried rice instead and it was ok.)... and once in the supermarket walking past roast chickens, when I thought: smells yum! ... not worth it! And moved on.

So that's progress so far.
And in other news, I've begun eating mushrooms like there's about to be a Great Mushroom Shortage and I'd best stockpile them (inside my stomach) which is really bizarre because I've never liked mushrooms before.

all the things

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As an avid reader of A Practical Wedding, I have come across the phrase: 'Wanting/needing ALL THE THINGS' in regard to the wedding industry often enough.
It means that when you start planning a wedding, people will inevitably tell you all the things you 'need', or, the industry tells you that your wedding won't be 'perfect' unless you have 'all the things' - eg. the mason jars, the perfect makeup, the expensive flowers, the three tiered cupcake tree with custom designed icing decorations that taste like spring.
You know what I mean.
Looking at buying a house has brought out a new breed of 'all the things', and it isn't necessarily an industry pressure the way that planning a wedding is, but I am feeling a new sense of stress because I need all the things.

We saw a house on Saturday, and it's great as it is. You can move in and all you'd need to do was floor the bedrooms (though it's not like they don't have a floor, it's just not a 'real floor). The kitchen is huge, the bathroom is big, there's a yard up the back ready for Mallei, there's a huge drive and a carport. It's a great house, even though the kitchen is dated and too 'country' for me and the stove is electric hotplates (bleurg, ugh), and the bathroom is 1980s-salmon-pink... it works, it's fine.

...

But...

I want all the things.
I want a new kitchen, right? Gas stove, yes please. Beautiful beautiful island with wood benchtops and an  impractical place for recipe books...
I want to fix the bathroom, make it more pretty.
I want the floors to be lovely.
(Keep in mind, too, that we haven't even put an offer in on the house yet- it's not ours).
I want to plant Japanese maples out the front.
I want to buy bar stools, and armchairs, and a new couch, and a new dining table, and new chairs because mine are from 1991 or so.
I want RUGS.
I want to have a brilliant, functional vegetable garden out the back, with a little mini fruit tree orchard, and a chook pen and chickens with eggs.
I want to sell my car for a little diesel car so that it's more economical to drive the longer distance to work and back.
I want bird feeders, wind-chimes and herbs hanging from the front balcony.
I want more artwork.
I want to have cool, unusual and interesting recycled timber furniture.

So... not a long list, right.

All the damn things.
And I need to stop feeling so stressed about having all the stupid things right now. Floors? Probably a priority in that house. Everything else? Couches are still sittable. Table still has legs, chairs? They're pretty stained and fur-covered, but they work for now... These things will come, when they come. This needs to my mantra.
First thing's first: get a house. Everything else will come in time. And if it doesn't, at least we'll have a place to call our own, with room to move, and places to put plants in the ground because we'll be there for a while. And walls that we can put hooks in, because it won't be carefully documented with the threat of a reduced bond looming.
And that will be lovely.

admission...

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What a whirlwind weekend.

On Saturday we saw a house, fell in love with it, and became deeply engrossed in the process of how to get a homeloan and put an offer in on a house.
On Sunday we spoke with friends about it, fell more in love, and dreamed about it.
On Monday, we scoped out the area, talked to the agent, learned some more, and got super excited.
On Tuesday, we showed a different set of friends the pictures, gushed over it, and talked 'the process'.
On Wednesday, I saw my Mum for lunch, talked finances and vegetarianism, showed her the photos, oo-ed and aahh-ed, and then essentially decided it was unsuitable.

This house is gorgeous.
It ticked pretty much all our boxes.
And then Mum said: there's nowhere for kids. Not even one kid.
Because the house had a mezzanine bedroom with stupid stairs that would be ridiculous for a toddler/young child. And nowhere to build a bedroom.
So I speak to Nic.
We go back and forth about it.

Let me back up a little- I've never wanted kids. Nic asked me why, and honestly, I don't have a specific reason, just that I've never had the inclination to want them. I'll look after other peoples', I'd say, or they're too much effort, or, they tie you down.
But... a while ago, something very quiet in me said: but maybe... one day?
And since I started teaching, that's grown into a much louder something. Not demanding kids now, but certainly wanting to keep the possibility of one, or two on the table for future.

So I'm speaking to Nic. We're talking about the fact that I've always said I didn't want kids, and how he had thought maybe he would but had come around to my point of view, and by the way, he says, do you want kids?

And I say
Well...
Yes.
I think I would. Someday.

... and then I burst into tears.
Because of course that's a perfectly logical reaction.
And hey, maybe it is. Here I am admitting what I had been essentially unwilling to admit since that tiny voice surfaced, except to say to mum: Hey! Good news! Kids might be back on the table, ha ha.. I hadn't admitted it.
And here I was essentially saying, no, we can't buy this amazing house because hypothetically, we might want a family in the future - in the next 5-7 years, I guess - and there's no point buying an impractical house with low resale value (because other people with kids won't buy it, either) if we have to sell it again in 5 years.

So, that's my bombshell for the week.
And then I cried a bit more because I felt like I'd 'ruined' our perfect house. Nic hugs me, kisses me, and tells me it's ok, it's right.
And he'll make a great Dad, anyway. He'll be cool, like my Dad, and go on adventures with his kids, and take them snow-bashing, and make snow-cordial, and read books to them, and teach them to kayak.

...

But there's still a while to go before we need to think about all that, anyway.

the decisions we make

Recently, N & I have been opening our eyes to the decisions that we often take for granted.

This began from me having long discussions with a vegan colleague, who gave me a push to move further into vegetarianism.

We rarely ate red meat as it was - I can't remember the last time I had beef, however chicken and pork (ham and bacon) were staples in our weekly menu. In an effort to be more conscious of the effect our eating had on the world, we decided to cut out these meats too, and add milk to the list.

I'll write more on this another time, what I really want to look into is the flow-on effect that this decision to live more consciously and ethically has had on us so far.
I'll say that we always tried to buy the 'earth friendly' detergent when we needed clothes-washing soap or 'multi-purpose' cleaner, because that was an easy, obvious choice. We had never considered ourselves 'eco-friendly' beyond this, and often scoffed at people who bought organic, or went out of their way to get their 'every day' stuff from the health food shop or market. Toothpaste? Deodorant? Soap? Too hard basket, get it from the supermarket.

But, with our eyes opening, we are beginning to face these decisions in a most confronting way.

Think about this:
Soap.

How often do you consider the impact you are having based on the type of soap you're buying? I'm on a kind of soap crusade at the moment because it seems virtually impossible to find soap which fulfils these criteria:

1. Does not use animal tallow. (look it up if you don't know. Said to be made from cats & dogs from pounds, too). 
2. Does not use palm oil (look it up. Orangutan environment destruction).
3. Does not cost more than $4 a bar.

This product may exist outside of Australia, but here, it seems like a hard ask. I simply don't think, after having spent two years living only on N's wage, that I can justify spending $5 on a bar of soap every month. 

To this end, we have even looked into making our own soap, but it seems that this is either a complicated chemical/scientific process, or could use animal products anyway, in which case I might as well stick with the supermarket stuff.

But my point is, there are some things we just aren't brought up to consider, right? Soap- buy what's on sale/what smells nice. Toothpaste: go with what you know. Even coffee- we buy big tins of coffee from costco, and I haven't yet considered where it comes from.

I think, though, that you could drive yourself crazy trying to 'do the right thing' every time, with every thing. There would be a sense of guilt regardless of which decision you made because surely, at some point, something is being harmed/losing out/suffering due to the decisions you've made. Which isn't to say, I suppose, that you shouldn't do it, just that you have to be comfortable in those decisions you make. If you can.