Archive for the ‘vegetarians are not fun’ Category


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As a vegetarian, I have been wanting ethical milk products for a very long time. I am so, so pleased to see the How Now dairy take off, and may there by many more.

Most people perhaps are not aware that to produce the milk we desire, cows are kept almost continually pregnant, with calves taken away from their mothers within 24 hours so that milk can be harvested for human consumption – a process that leaves both mother and baby deeply distressed and bellowing for each other for days. Palmer (and animal welfare groups) estimates between 400,000 and 800,000 of male calves (known within the industry as ‘bobby calves’) are sent to slaughter, as is a significant portion of females and while a cow has a natural life expectancy of 20-30 years, most dairy cows are slaughtered around the four-to-five-year-mark once their milk dries up.

From “What is ‘kind milk’? Meet the dairy starting a revolution” by Dilvin Yasa in SBS. 

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Them: How’s the smokiness?
Me: This whiskey tastes almost.. fishy.
(The men reel back in horror, then quickly lean back in towards my glass, concerned).
Me: It may have been a while since I tasted fishy.. as a vegetarian of 20 years.
(The men relax and go on drinking carefully aged whiskey).

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File it under men who think it is no big deal that you did their washing for them. When actually, you want to say. You don’t live with a man and haven’t for a couple of years now and you work, parent, run a house by yourself and so, doing someone’s washing is a very big deal. 

File it under men who cook for you. Under men who learn vegetarian recipes. Under men who have never dated vegetarians before. Under men who have exclusively dated vegetarians.

File it under men who love to eat pussy and think they’re the only one.

File it under men who sulk when you’re the one turning yourself inside out to see them.

File it under men who text you to tell you they’re calling you – they don’t ask, they tell you – even though you left them ages ago. Under other men who motion you over to your own fence by saying “come here, you’re not in trouble”.

(Note: not written about current events in my life).


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I do not say to my daughter that I think there is chicken stock in the vegetable soup and chicken salt on the chips we ordered. She is eating them gratefully, but this is a small town. Too small for vegetarians.

I do not say to him how much are you reminded of your honeymoon with your ex on this trip.

I do not say please take the children for a walk, please make them shower and organise their meals and break up their fights. Because these are my children, not his. And he is already doing so much.  I do not say, please, I just need some quiet time alone.

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bb road trip

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Last year was a… difficult year for me. It was year of the dragon, by the way, but this year is the horse and I grew up riding horses and I feel nothing but love for them, so I am pretty sure this will be a much better year for me. It’s very scientific.

I have new friends from China staying with me at the moment and tonight for Chinese New Year they cooked a (mostly) vegetarian banquet for us and it was magical.

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Oh, my garden looks quite stately in this photo, like I might have extensive grounds or something.

(And a quick reminder to myself when I am next re-reading my blog, in case I am feeling uninspired by my parenting achievements: recall that both kids, ages 4 and 8, politely tried everything served to them and mostly loved it, including the very spicy tofu).

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How it all came together…

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Hung upside down so the luck doesn’t fall out.

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I don’t want to brag or anything but, you know, I grew my own fucking honey. And it tastes divine.

With the help of some good friends I robbed my native bee hive for the first time and I have HONEEEEEEEY!

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Behold! Some of the honey. It has a consistency a bit like maple syrup.

These particular Australian bees don’t sting so the hive is right in my garden where the children play and near the table where we eat outside.

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Removing the top level where the bees store the ‘surplus’ honey.

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Hundreds of native bees trying to figure out what is happening.

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After the cells are punctured you turn the tray upside down and drain it into a tray. Then you take the tray and pour it through a sieve into jars.. sadly, there is some loss of bee life in the process. Lauca, the eight year old witnessed it and rather than finding it all an amazing experience to see our very own honey being collected, she was instead appalled by the bee destruction and is now refusing to eat honey – therefore rapidly moving from vegetarian to vegan.

And then I made a thank you lunch for my friends.

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ff party

Last week a good friend invited my kids and I to a camping weekend party at her ex’s place. And I was like, sure, that sounds fun and quiet. When we arrived we found several hundred people, an old barn filled with props, lots of live music and a giant vegetarian kitchen tent and it was all more like a music festival.

Very fun, not so quiet.

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Cormac in the tent trying to get to sleep and worrying that he will miss out on the toasted marshmallows. He did.

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Lauca and my friend’s son swimming in the river.

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Can I recommend Meat Joy by Carolee Schneemann? It’s perfect for a 5 minute break from pretty much anything, except eating meat, but I’m vegetarian. (May be very slightly NSFW. It is vintage feminist performance art, after all).

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