My Sad Sack Lunch

I've impressed myself with my dedication to packing lunches since beginning this project. Sometimes it's leftovers, but most days, I'm able to put together a salad with vegetables from my garden and CSA, and I've even started making big batches of dressing so I can pour a daily serving into a tiny mason jar. It's frugal, healthy, and if I wanted to, I could totally be self-righteous about my local vegetables (I'm not).

But this week, well, I'm just bad at it. There's a lot going on, and I'm not getting a lot of sleep. I was half an hour late to work yesterday. Last night I was up until 1 am working on a freelance article about old barns. We're supposed to close on the house tomorrow (even though I still have a hard time believing that the bank won't pull the plug in the next 24 hours). Oh, and we leave for Chicago Thursday. There are other things going on, too, but I don't have the energy to write about them just yet.

The point is that even though I didn't really prepare a lunch yesterday, I managed to at least stuff what was left of a grilled tri-tip into a sandwich bag. Meat is good for one's brain, so that's something. And who couldn't use more protein? For a minute, I pretended I was going to stick to a strict paleo diet after that steak, but when a bag of M&M's pretty much magically appeared on my desk, that was over.

I'm not complaining about eating a delicious steak. Especially because I didn't pack any lunch today. I have three dollars in my pocket, and I'm going to find a way to turn that into lunch. Stay tuned...

Throwing a Baby Shower on Budget

My friend Kristina is about two months away from being a mom. Since I'm pretty sure that without her, I wouldn't have consumed enough food or fluids the week leading up to my wedding, I really wanted to throw her a nice shower. Also, I love the challenge of throwing a great party on a budget. 

I must admit that I had a bunch of stuff left over from said wedding that happened to work well for a shower — plates, cups, napkins, straws, tablecloths, a framed chalkboard, and booze (who says you can't have booze at a baby shower?) — so this isn't exactly a how-to-throw-a-baby-shower-on-a-budget post.

That said, if I'd had (er, taken) more time, it would have been easy to use my own mismatched vintage dishes and silver, whip up some decorations, and ask everyone to bring a moderately-priced bottle of wine or make a punch with cheap champagne and juice. Hosting the party at my house would have been a free option, too, but I was grateful to borrow a friend's beautiful studio (where I'll also be hiding out working on freelance projects soon — more on that later) so I didn't have to speed clean in anticipation/party panic mode. 

Before my co-host Amanda and I started to plan the shower, Kristina mentioned she really wanted to have a Blessing Way. Different from a shower, a Blessing Way is a gathering in which pregnant woman and her close friends celebrate her transition into motherhood (and which I admit seemed way too touchy-feely for me until I learned more about its history).

That worked out well, because Kristina and her partner live in a small apartment and we didn't want to shower them with too much stuff. Still, we found a way to combine the rituals of the Blessing Way with the materialism of a contemporary American baby shower. Go us!

We started by asking everyone to bring a dish that reminded her of a woman she loved. This was also a totally selfish request since the shower was on a Thursday and Amanda and I would have gone insane and completely trashed our kitchens trying to prepare all of the food on our own. (I like to make people think I have my shit together, but it's much more convincing on a Saturday or Sunday when I have a few extra hours to actually get my shit together.) It worked well with the theme.

I was able get it together enough to make one dish, and that was my aunt Susie's (which I've since learned she spells Suzie) tuna noodle casserole. That was the first $10 I actually spent. 

Some people clearly grew up in healthier families. 

There were other presents — that I failed to document because my phone was also the iPod — which included a beautiful handmade baby blanket and adorable, tiny clothes. Even I couldn't resist picking up a $9.00 denim romper from Target (I look terrible in them, so I decided that I will live vicariously through Kristina's daughter this summer). Someone bought Kristina a massage, and since she plans to make her own baby food, another friend decorated a bunch of glass jars.

In addition to the potluck item, we asked attendees to bring beads or buttons to contribute to a garland to go above the bed. We all added to it as we sipped on horse feathers and listened to Kristina share her fears and concerns about the future.

Though she didn't bring it up that night, I know that one of her concerns is money. And as someone who has always worried about money, I didn't want her to have to feel that when she was about to bring her daughter into the world.

To help lessen that burden — and not stuff their small apartment with a bunch of crap they don't really need — we asked everyone to chip in to help pay their rent for August, the month the baby is due.

While I won't get into numbers (beyond saying that everything combined cost me less than $100), I'm happy with the fabulous party/bastardized Blessing Way we were able to put together on a budget. I'm even happier that we were able to give Kristina and her new family a gift that will allow them to spend more time together, and less time worrying about money when the baby comes. 

Two Truths and (I Hope) a Lie About Tonight's Dinner

1.  There are sauteed greens hidden under that red sauce, those three eggs, and all of that freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

2. In an already-failed attempt to not waste any part of my CSA this year, the greens I sauteed were pretty close to spoiled. And I used a can of red sauce I made a few weeks ago, and put in the fridge without ever officially sealing.

3. I'm not at all worried that the food I prepared and consumed tonight — in an honorable attempt to be frugal — might make me just a little bit sick.

You know how this game goes: you guess which one is the lie.

Garden Glory 6.22.13

I'm currently trying to tone down a draft post about the credit skeletons in my closet and how we might not get the house now because of a debt I didn't even know I still had. I need to edit out at least 50% of the four-letter words and most of the rambling, ranting text before I bother anyone with that. 

In the meantime, I thought I'd share something much more positive: pictures from my first "major" garden harvest on Saturday.

It's so neat to see how these Japanese eggplants grow out of their flowers.

Our green beans are currently trying to strangle the green onions. I guess we had to expect at least one turf war in a 2.5 by 6-foot community garden plot. And maybe it will make for some really great flavors in the beans.

Remember when I was worried my carrots wouldn't grow? I think it will still be quite a while before I have actual edible carrots under that dirt, but this is a great start.

Naturally, Saturday night's dinner came from a box.

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Garage Sale Recap: I Made $126.21 and Peed My Pants

Saturday's garage sale got off to a great start. With Kyle's help, I set up pretty quickly. And before he went to work, he ran to the store to get me coffee and change. 

It wasn't a busy day, but for the most part, I had fairly steady shoppers. I even sold a bunch of beige polyester tablecloths from the wedding to a woman who worked at a nearby church. Kyle's mom and sister came by for lunch — with lunch — and then my adorable friend Danielle surprised me with a visit.

Like me, Danielle is trying to save money and pay down debt. She's so organized about it, she even travels with her own healthy snacks — carrots, celery and almonds in Ziploc bags — neatly tucked into her little purse. Around 3, she left with the stability ball I bought with the best of intentions but never used.

My plan for the rest of the afternoon was to stay open for a few more hours, then call the guy who runs the thrift store down the street to come pick up what I hadn't sold — since I'd promised Kyle nothing would return to the house or garage. But not long after Danielle went home, it started to get really dark. I should have taken that as a sign to close up shop, but I figured it it would rain before it poured, and I was there to make money, not worry about the weather.

Well, then all hell broke loose and the sky opened up, and within a matter of seconds, Mother Nature had dumped what seemed like an entire ocean on top of me and my sale. My first thought was to grab the mattress from the daybed I was trying to sell (another purchase I never used). As I was trying to get it into the house — fighting against the huge gusts of wind — I heard a loud crash. My tallest shelf, which was stacked with books and knickknacks, had been blown over. It wasn't an incredibly sturdy shelf (in fact, it was a piece of crap Kyle had in his kitchen before we ever met, which is why I was trying to sell it) but if we weren't in the middle of the country, I might have worried I was about to get stuck in a hurricane.

I slid the mattress into the house and ran back out in the pouring rain to rescue linens and try and collect the quickly bloating books. The bottoms of the boxes I was stuffing were breaking out as I picked them up, and soon everything that could contain or retain water was — including my clothes, shoes and hair.

I spent nearly an hour cleaning up the front of the driveway, and had to throw away probably 40 books. Throwing away any books, ever, makes me sad. When everything was cleared from the front, I moved toward the back to get started on the dishes and kitchen items — many of which had been blown off of the table.

By this point, I was soaking wet from head to toe, and I really, really, really had to pee. The heavy rain wasn't helping. To go, at least like a lady, I'd have to track water in the house and all the way up the stairs, since we don't have a toilet on the main floor. But the real problem was the fact that I was wearing skinny jeans — which are never easy to get over my elephant-like calves, especially when I've just put lotion on my legs or it's super humid out. I knew that if I pulled those jeans down, there would be no getting them back up. I also know myself well enough to know that when the pants come off for the day, they are not to be replaced by new pants. Once free of wet jeans, I would want nothing more than to take a warm shower, slip into some dry jammies, and spend the rest of the evening on the couch.

However, I wasn't about to leave a huge mess in my driveway, even if I could blame it on the weather. To be honest, I really didn't mind being out in the pouring rain; it wasn't too cold, and by this point, the whole thing seemed so ridiculous, I was laughing as I picked up shards of glass and debated grabbing anything metal for fear of being struck by lightning.

I kind of surprised myself when I decided to just pee in my pants. I was also surprised at how easy it was. For whatever reason, I can't pee in the lake or the ocean, but in my driveway, in my pants? No problem. I was already wet, and all alone (everyone else had sense enough to get inside before the rain came).

Of course, I immediately regretted my decision. It's not the most pleasant smell in the world. But then my rational rain brain saw the garden hose, and thought: What the hell? I'm already soaking wet, and I've peed myself. Hose it off, girl.

So I did, and spent about another hour cleaning up more wet garage sale inventory... which, of course, meant taking some of it inside. Jack didn't mind. 

I had to leave a few things on the curb, and all of it has disappeared, except for this wonderful mid-century-esque dreser that's still in front of my house. I hope it finds a new home soon.

Overall, I still consider the day a success: I saw an old friend, made $121.21, got rid of a lot of stuff, and got a pretty good workout frantically cleaning for two hours in the pouring rain.

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Garage Sale Day

Today is the neighborhood garage sale. About a month ago, when the neighbors decided on the date, I thought it would be perfect timing — I hoped we'd be close to done packing up the house, we'd have the basement and the garage completely cleared out, and we'd have a ton of stuff to sell. In my head, I'd already spent the money on paint for the new house. Um, nope.

Since the mortgage process has been consuming me, I've really just managed to mess up the entire current house by pulling everything out of its home, and all without putting a single item in a box. While I'm pretty proud of the inventory I managed to throw together in just a couple hours on Thursday night, there's still so much more I want purge.

I've always had a lot of stuff: books, vintage Pyrex, clothes, shoes, purses, dishes, knick-knacks, three sets of flatware. Hell, we even have four sets of coasters for one coffee table. You'd think that having lived in 11 places over the last 13 years would have forced me to downsize. But with every move, I felt like I got rid of at least 25% of my belongings. Unfortunately, my stuff problem is a lot like my weight problem — I work really hard to get rid of it, then before I know it, I have just as much as I started with, and sometimes more. It's probably a management issue. I don't have good habits, so I eat too much at dinner without exercising enough the next morning, and I bring too much into the house without getting rid of old things to make room. Then, I crash diet and crash purge. Oh, and then there's the crash opening six months worth of mail thing (though I recently found a year-old check for $100, more on that later!).

To make matters worse, hoarding is in my blood. On both sides. I hold onto things because they have sentimental value, or for perfectly practical reasons (you never know when that expensive sunscreen that totally irritates my skin will come in handy, right?). A lot of stuff stays because I don't want to hurt the feelings of the person who gave it to me. And when you're a person with a lot of stuff, people want to give you more stuff.

I'm slowly losing that sense of sentimentality, though, and I think it's a good thing.

Now that we're (hopefully) moving into a house that will be ours — ours for as long as we want it to be ours — I just don't want to be surrounded by so much stuff. While I think my home will always be a little messy, it doesn't have to be so cluttered.

Over the next few weeks, I'm going to try to get rid of at least two times more stuff than I put out for today's garage sale. I'm sure I'll always hold onto the box of my Grandma Ruth's costume jewelry, and my Grandma Freda's wacky shoes. But before I put anything else in a box or bag meant for the new house, I'll ask myself "Do you use this?" If the answer is "no," the next question will be, "Do you love it?" If the answer to that is "no," I should just get rid of it. However, taking this project into consideration, I should probably also ask myself, "Do you think you'll need this, or something like it, within the next year?" If I can't answer "yes" to at least one of those questions, it should go.

Honestly, for as much as I hold onto things, I've never missed anything I've sold or given away (save for a few cute vintage dresses I now see on my cute friends). If I can get another garage sale together, I might as well make back at least some of the money I wasted on all of that stuff I didn't even need in the first place. If not, Goodwill is good enough for me.

As far as this garage sale goes, everyone in the neighborhood thought everyone else was going to put signs up on the main streets, so we're not getting much traffic. Since I promised Kyle none of this stuff would go back in the house or garage, I might be making a trip to Goodwill sooner than later.

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Lazy Mondays and Losing My Ambition

Mondays aren't generally my favorite day. I know, I know; that's like saying constipation isn't really my favorite feeling, or that my under-wire bra isn't the most comfortable thing I've ever worn. Unless you're in the service industry, Mondays suck. There's no denying it. But when Kyle and I both have the day off, Mondays are like a bonus Sunday, and I think everybody deserves a bonus Sunday from time to time. Yesterday, we took ours. 

Of course, it was still a Monday, and we did have one task to accomplish. Somehow, a bird found its way into my sister's apartment Sunday night. When she noticed it flying circles in her living room, she grabbed her keys — but didn't take the time to put on shoes, pants, or a bra — and fled for our house. In the morning, Kyle and I went back with her, planning to shoo her little feathered friend out with a broom, or at least dispose of the body. But there was no sign of it. However it got in, it managed to get out. (That, or it's time to have a talk with my sister about the dangers of hallucinatory drugs.)

Other than our failed bird-hunting mission, we were able to hang around the house for much of the day, just enjoying each others' company. When evening rolled around and the temperature dropped a bit, we spent some time time tending to our little container garden.

As I practiced my iPhonetography (it's getting a little better, right?) Kyle fired up the grill to make chicken wings for dinner. It might not sound like the most romantic meal, but I first developed a crush on Kyle when I watched a video of him making chicken wings.

Overall, it was a simple, wonderful day, and I want more like it. I guess lazy days wouldn't feel quite so special if I had them every day, but this one did get me thinking about why I work so much, and why I've always worked so much.

I got my first job when I was 14 so I could buy things — name-brand shampoo, Union Bay Jeans, the cool Dr. Martens my friends had but my mom couldn't buy me — and I've never really stopped (working or buying). I'd like to think my tastes have improved with age, but my spending habits haven't. And because I've never been good at managing my money, I've always felt like I needed more of it — sometimes literally to keep the lights on. Sure, I also wanted to accomplish things, and get jobs that would lead to even better jobs, and bigger salaries, and put that really expensive liberal arts degree to good use, but the more money I made, the more I would spend.

As I start to think about moving into a home where we will raise our family, I want to separate myself from so much of the "stuff" I've accumulated over the years (luckily, this Saturday is the neighborhood garage sale). I want to live more simply, spend less time working, and spend more time doing the things that make me happy with the people (and pets) I love.

For now, I'm enjoying being able to handle unexpected visits to the vet, and the fact that I'm at least financially stable enough to almost buy a home. Though it's still very small, having a little cushion in my savings account feels nice, too.

If only I'd had this realization a decade earlier.  

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Saving a Surplus of Spinach

Wednesday was a big food day for us. It was the first day of our CSA, we were hosting Supper Club (a gathering of four couples, well, now three couples and one guy, who get together once a month to geek out over home-cooked food), and when my friend Kristina showed up, she brought us two big bunches of organic spinach that needed to be consumed or composted ASAP.

Confession: Before I started this project, I was always throwing out produce (save for the summer I spent eating on $50 a week). I would buy it with the best of intentions, but when I'd come home from work hungry and tired, and was faced with the choice of cooking versus carryout, I bet you can guess which way I would go.

But I wasn't about to let this spinach go bad, or at least get any closer to decay than it already was. So, I separated out the bad leaves, rinsed the good ones and put them in the food processor with a little water. Then, I scooped my spinach sludge into Dixie cups and put them in the freezer.

Now I have 20 servings of frozen spinach for my morning smoothies. I have to tear the cup or run a just a little bit of warm water over the top to loosen the spinach, but it's great to have another frozen element to go along with the berries, especially since summer is about to sneak up on us.

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