On kitchen-witchery and other topics
For the longest time I've felt that if I'd have more time for making things, knitting things, baking things and tinkering around the house, my life would be perfect-er.
Talk about a wrong career choice - a high-pressure job, unofficially on call 24/7 and I'm not even a doctor or a plumber. That, dancing and not-entirely-inactive social life leaves precious few quiet evenings at home to while away with baking and crafts.
My dad asked me yesterday whether I think I've made the right career choice or not. My "yes" was a bit hesitant and I did, blushing, end up explaining all kinds of visions of writing cookbooks and keeping sheep (or alpacas!). Reading How to Be Free has not exactly helped and during my idle hours I've been devising all kinds of hare-brained permaculture and self-sufficiency schemes (preferably realised in puu-Käpylä, though - I'm not entirely ready to give up on going to see a good film, nor do I want to buy a car).
Thumbing through the domestic goddess (smirk) sort of magazines I'm filled with desire to make all sorts of homemade truffles, knitted pillow covers and menu cards. All this despite the fact that my style of housekeeping and entertaining tends to be more Lazy Woman than Martha Stewart - good food and good cheer are more important than a clean bathroom in my experience.
I'm not sure if this is some bizarre, twisted form of perfectionism and overachieving (you know, womanly virtues and whatnot) or the contrary - escapism from the 9-to-5 (in my case more like 9-to-7 and then still some more work at bedtime) world of Busy People and Important Adult Things. I've always thought that I couldn't possibly be happy without a challenging office-type job, but I've began doubting that. What if all I really want is pottering at home with baking and knitting (well, in real life I'm afraid my hands always get sweaty and the yarn squeaky and the knitting lumpy, but...) and gardening? Cooking a big old dinner for people I love?
Oooh identity crisis!
Talk about a wrong career choice - a high-pressure job, unofficially on call 24/7 and I'm not even a doctor or a plumber. That, dancing and not-entirely-inactive social life leaves precious few quiet evenings at home to while away with baking and crafts.
My dad asked me yesterday whether I think I've made the right career choice or not. My "yes" was a bit hesitant and I did, blushing, end up explaining all kinds of visions of writing cookbooks and keeping sheep (or alpacas!). Reading How to Be Free has not exactly helped and during my idle hours I've been devising all kinds of hare-brained permaculture and self-sufficiency schemes (preferably realised in puu-Käpylä, though - I'm not entirely ready to give up on going to see a good film, nor do I want to buy a car).
Thumbing through the domestic goddess (smirk) sort of magazines I'm filled with desire to make all sorts of homemade truffles, knitted pillow covers and menu cards. All this despite the fact that my style of housekeeping and entertaining tends to be more Lazy Woman than Martha Stewart - good food and good cheer are more important than a clean bathroom in my experience.
I'm not sure if this is some bizarre, twisted form of perfectionism and overachieving (you know, womanly virtues and whatnot) or the contrary - escapism from the 9-to-5 (in my case more like 9-to-7 and then still some more work at bedtime) world of Busy People and Important Adult Things. I've always thought that I couldn't possibly be happy without a challenging office-type job, but I've began doubting that. What if all I really want is pottering at home with baking and knitting (well, in real life I'm afraid my hands always get sweaty and the yarn squeaky and the knitting lumpy, but...) and gardening? Cooking a big old dinner for people I love?
Oooh identity crisis!