I am mini. I like mini


Our first car was a tiny Opel Corsa. My husband’s parents did not talk to us for months. They owned a large BMW. We did not miss the small talk. We like our air unpolluted.
My grandmother fed a family of eight and the neighbours occasionally. Her oven was 1,5 meter deep, one meter wide. She needed wood, a match, flour, water and her hands. Her bread and pies were a local legend. I need an oven, a blender, a mixer, and a handful of appliances and moulds to make a dozen mini brownies. You can see the difference. If I need a mini boll for my Magimix to bake a new recipe, i’ll say ‘thank you’, but no, thank you”. I knife and my old cutting board will do the job.

Since we moved to a rented apartment, half the size of the one we were used to, two Ikea wardrobes suffice. “One thing – in; one thing- out” is a custom now. Why i needed a dressing room before is foggy to me now. I have everything I need. My family has everything they need.

If i need to buy something to see if i am able or willing to do something, i say no. Planning of teaching my kid checkers?  Why buy it when i can download an app for free to see first if she will like the game.

I recently discovered the Minimalism. When the shopping urge kicks in, Minimalism gives you three criteria. I minimised it to two: is it truly necessary? Is it of value to last? If no ‘Yes” finds its way to these questions, I steer my attention to investments into learning and travelling. The return is a promise kept.

Last Christmas the gifts wraps were recycled from previous years. And, more importantly, the gifts of joy and time together needed only the  wrapping  of love, in abundance.

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