I'm cooking real food for the first time in a.. year. Yeah. Seriously. I don't mean just boiling chicken or doing a bit suspicious-looking and tasting soy steaks (I have no idea how mum makes them so delicious - mine are dry and.. well, dry), I'm really really cooking. Cretan lentil soup. It sounds good and I really hope that it is good, though even the best recipes have a habit of turning into something horrible in my hands. I heard that lentils are a good source of fibre, protein and starch, so it should be just perfect for vegetarians. I haven't eaten meat much lately, lately meaning a really long period of time. I tried buying some chicken and salmon so that I'd get the essential proteins that I need but.. I dunno, I just can't eat meat that much anymore. It's just like last summer, remember? I start feeling sick and then I can't eat meat for days. Maybe I've been without it for too long? I've eaten it occasionally during the past two years but only when we've been to relatives or when I've been to Finland, or when my granny was still alive, she used to cook me meat. Dunno, I could try being completely without it for some time. Don't mind really because it's not like I miss meat that much right now, I don't feel like eating it and since both dad and the Annoying Brother are vegetarians, it's easy to be without meat and not even remember it. It also helps that we've always had vegetarian meals at home, ever since dad became a vegetarian in 1983 (not that I was even born then but you get my point). I remember how I tried to be a vegetarian when I was 17 but it so didn't work out - on the first day of my "huge change" I found myself in the school cafeteria happily eating some fish dish. And I didn't even notice what I was eating. Hooray! Oh well, I tried it only because being a vegetarian sounded cool. Yep.. not the best reason ever. Now I don't know what my reason is. Even if I've now stopped eating meat, maybe temporarily or maybe not, I still can't call myself a vegetarian because I don't want to put pressure on myself by restricting myself too much. If I feel like eating meat, I'll eat it, but right now I don't feel like it.

I miss Finland. The weather is warm and summery, the wind is blowing from south and when I'm on the balcony and close my eyes, it feels just like sitting on our terrace in Helsinki with Vili, Nalle and Roki, our dogs. Just like in the end of May when the summer holidays are almost there and you feel so.. happy and relaxed. Maybe the music is on in the livingroom, Marina's there doing something and mum hasn't yet come home from work so we're all alone. Maybe I'm reading something, if not old Donald Duck comic books then it must be something else as educating. God I can almost feel what it felt like sitting there... But it doesn't make me sad not to be there right now. You know why? I know I'll be there sitting on that terrace with the dogs and a silly book, enjoying the sunshine, in 3-3,5 months, and 99% sure for good. Not on the terrace but in Finland, you know what I mean. That remaining 1% is the resistance of dad, the huge flip-out that will take place when I tell him. He'll try to make me feel guilty, be it consciously or unconsciously, he'll make me feel guilty anyway. He won't understand why I'm being a weak quitter (I still remember my brother's words, see?) but I do, and I think that's enough. It's funny how I can't wait for these last months to pass as quickly as possible, but at the same time I'm hoping that the moment of telling dad will never come. Never ever. If I could pack my stuff in a suitcase and sneak out of the country with Mini under my arm, I'd do it. I'd be running. BUT since we all know that I need my brother to take some of my stuff by car since I got like 13 pairs of shoes, a few dozen books, a humongous pile of clothes and other trash, I can't do a runner. Not this time. And I should finally grow up and face my fears and do the right thing, don't you think?