Bunty & Sars

What pushes my buttons?                        

            

Well, among other things, buttons push my buttons. In a nice way. I found a sweet little, old fashioned craft and alterations shop in Bunninyong yesterday. My Mum has just knitted me a beautiful new cardigan (yay Mum!) and I needed something to attach one side to the other to keep the cold air out. The bigger ones in the picture above are the ones I chose. They're wooden and very special. But what a task it was making that choice. I can't wait to go back and get some other lovely buttons, there were so many!

Which brings me back to my soap box. This time in a ponderous, thoughtful way.  Choice. We tend to feel so lucky to have oodles of it in this life, and in lots of ways I think we are. It's super that I can choose from around 65000 (almost!) types of tea in the supermarket. It means I can have a different variety every week so as to be constantly exposed to new warm beverage experiences. I love that it is my choice alone to do what I do every day, wear what I wear and say what I say.  Yet, I'm starting to feel a little fatigued by all this choice. I was listening to the ABC today while buntyandsars-ing (and my ageing self, begrudgingly must admit it wasn't JJJ). They had a guest who has written a book on the topic. The discussion validated some stuff I've had itching at the back of my tiny brain lately. When I go out for a meal it's quite a drama for me to choose from the menu, so many options. What if I make the wrong choice??? I may have to suffer the consequences. Life is too short to eat the wrong food. Then there's sweets. AGGHHH, sticky date or lemon meringue, STICKY DATE OR LEMON MERINGUE???? Just quietly, the solution is to share several options with several good friends. I  worked that out over tea Friday night, thanks girls. That's a bit beside the point, though. Having choices is about being happy. The ultimate pursuit. If we can choose as we please we will surely be happier. Yeah, um, nup.  It's drives me a touch demented. I'm constantly weighing up options, seeking something better...procrastinating.  Then there's the constant guilt associated with these choices. Guilt about having gone with the wrong option. Guilt that our children will be somehow worse off. Guilt that the planet is dying in our own small hands. Guilt that the house isn't clean. All because we chose to do, be or think the wrong thing. I could go on and on because every aspect of our modern lives is infiltrated by choices and the expectation that having the luxury of choice should somehow make us all close to perfect.  Perfection = happiness, doesn't it??!! Again, yeah, um nup.  So, I'm on a quest to shun choice (a little bit, when I feel like it) and to try not to hinge so much on the outcomes of my choices. I'm going with the fate thing a bit more. Some things happen just because and there's nothing I can do about it. Yep, that feels better already. I'm being less hyper responsible, I don't even have to blame someone else. " Why isn't tea cooked, Mum?" Just because. It's fate. No more coulda, shoulda woulda.

Read some more Sunday paper goodness on the weekend too, and it was referring to happiness being found in really simple things, like making sure the bed is made everyday.  Again, less about those big, profound mind bending choices and subsequent actions and more about what we've got here and now. I went AHA! That's why I'm so painful about arranging the cushions on the couch and scraping the cat hair off the mat. It makes me happy. If I'm surrounded by some degree of order I'm easier to live with. SO KIDS (read husband, too), PUT YOUR STUFF AWAY. Sometimes. Please.

This goes some way to explaining the joy in things like cooking and knitting too, I reckon. They're repetitive, simple and satisfying, Especially when there's something at the end to show for it. Knit, purl, knit, purl, knit purl...beanie. Or, measure, stir, stir, stir, roll, roll...sticky, chocolatey, sugary cake. See, satisfying.

Bringing me to the buntyandsars bit. Cut, cut, cut, hole punch, hole punch, stick stick...

                                                      new colouring book, yay!

They're half A4 size with twenty drawings of native animals, bound by hand with pages from quite the most lovely, kitschy, daggy book. I found two (yes, two!) copies of a full colour, photographic book by the awesome Harry Butler. The original Steve Irwin. I have not, however, used the pictures of him man handling innocent animals, their eyes popping as he grips (humanely, I'm sure) their little necks. I'm aiming to have them up on Madeit by the end of he week, so keep checking.

I've also decided on a bundle of three cards. It's all about brown paper packages tied up with string and will soon be available containing three storybook cards or three pull-along cards. Nice, I know.

Now, it's beyond my control, fate has stepped in and I have to go and cook some tea and make sure the children get bathed and clothed. Yes, feels much better thinking of it that way...