And Heaven and Nature Sing

That's a little clip-on bird ornament, in case you're scratching your head.

I'm gonna be honest here. Christmas is not all candy canes and mistletoe for me. It is hard. I miss my mom in every carol, every cookie we don't bake together, every mint M&M that I will never dig greedily from the candy dish on the sofa table when I come into her cider-scented house. In fact, this is the first Christmas in the four without her that I have even bothered to decorate beyond a tiny table-top tree.

But we're staying in Raleigh this Christmas, and I decided I was ready to make our own family traditions. When we returned to NC after Thanksgiving, we packed up the car with the ornaments and stockings and lights and tree stand that we had packed away at Les's parents' house. So I had the loot. There was just one problem: No space for a tree.

Ok, actually, there were 2 problems. No space for a tree, AND I felt conflicted about the eternal "Real vs. Fake" Christmas Tree Debate.  A live tree may be greener overall, but I still cringed a bit at the thought (and expense, and mess, and the hassle of having to bolt our loveseat to the ceiling to make room) of squeezing a tree into our little apartment.

So I'm finally ready to be festive, but couldn't quite go so far as to buy a tree.

What's a girl to do?

Well, a crafty girl marches out into the back yard (We live in NC! We have a yard!) and drags a fallen branch over to her deck, slaps down some scrap cardboard, and spray paints that sucker white. So now I have a Big White Stick! Perfect. The Christmas Stick gets plunked into a tall white ceramic vase with some white tissue paper crammed in to keep it upright and Auggie-proof. Then it gets wrapped with white lights and adorned with all the bird ornaments I had stashed away.

You see, 5 years ago, Mom and I decided to pillage Target on the Day After Christmas. I pushed her around in her wheelchair as she clutched a basket in her lap. I had decided I needed some of my own ornaments, and I had a vision. A theme, if you will. "Let Heaven and Nature Sing!". Only animal and bird ornaments, with red and gold do-dads mixed in. Some order to my Christmas Chaos. So, I loaded her up with a couple dozen clip-on birds, red and gold glass spheres, and faux-berry garlands.  And that Christmas, I convinced my then-roommate to get a ridiculously big tree and I festooned it with birds, berries, and balls. It was glorious.

And so this year, Les and I have The Christmas Stick. I love it. And it inspired me to just rock on with the bird theme.  Birds and Words:

Our mantel birds (who perch there all year) were joined by a tiny poinsettia and a canvas wrapped with burlap and some stick-on letters.

Some hand-felted "snow birds" that I bought on etsy a couple of years ago hang out with a little penguin figurine that Mom gave me in a stocking a zillion years ago. Chillin' with the NOEL letters.

Ok, I know this is crazy, but for some reason I thought that because it never really got cold in North Carolina, there wouldn't be any cardinals here. That made me really sad when we first moved, but guess what? They are everywhere. I love them. They are just harder to see when there is no snow!

Our Christmas mantel. A little crowded, but totally awesome. 

There's even a funny little bird in our Nativity: check out the silly chicken on Joseph's back! I can't imagine a creche without some animals. Les and I bought this one in Portugal right after we got engaged. I love it. It is made out of this sandy clay stuff. And the calf and the donkey look like they are singing.

Joy to the World, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her king
Let every heart prepare Him room
And Heaven and Nature Sing

Let my mom, in heaven, sing
Let all the animals and birds, and trees and stars, all of God's creation, sing His praise

They do a better job of it than we do sometimes, don't they?

Gratitude Lessons

It's November, so that means I'm happily jumping on the 30 Days of Thanks on Facebook. The very simple premise is that you post one thing each day for which you are thankful. I love it. I LOVE IT. I love to read other people's posts. I love to be able to scroll through my page and others' pages at the end of the month and read a list of blessings and God's provision and common grace.

It is one thing to have a month of thankful Facebook posts, and quite another to cultivate a heart of gratitude. I've been working on that one for a while now.

Take this beautiful white KitchenAid stand mixer, for example.

When I was in my early and mid-twenties, I had some SERIOUS envy issues. Why? Because every summer I found myself shelling out money I did not have to purchase things for my friends' weddings that I wanted myself, and I despaired of ever having matching plates that did not come from a thrift store, or ceramic nesting mixing bowls to sit cheerily on the counter instead of ugly plastic ones. But the Mother Of All Covetousness was the elusive, expensive, Bridal-Registry-Golden-Ticket, the KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

I watched friend after friend tear into the big heavy box at the wedding shower, after being reminded that "this one is too heavy for your lap, why don't you come over to the gift table and open in!" winkwinknudgenudge. And there before our eyes, the glowing bride would unveil a beautiful KitchenAid, often in a dazzling bright color to match the thoughtful "accent colors of her kitchen". You know, a mixer painted to match the colors of all her new dish towels and spatulas.

And every time this happened, my heart clenched up a bit. Not only was I NOT GETTING MARRIED, I was also never going to get a stand mixer. Because they are like $300 and I certainly did not have that kind of money. And neither did my mom, should she ever be inclined to buy me such a gift.

Let's get to the specifics, here. I wanted a fire-engine red Kitchen Aid mixer. I had this dream of a red and white kitchen, primarily because I had scored a cute little red Kitchen Aid mini-food chopper on clearance at Kohls one day, so now naturally I needed the Stand Mixer to be red. Because obviously now I was going to have a red-and-white kitchen filled with Fancy, Matching Kitchen Stuff someday. This red kitchen dream grew and grew. I started trying to figure out a way to sock away some cash for a mixer. I asked my mom to be on the lookout for sales at department stores. I asked for money for my birthday for the Mixer Fund.

And then something incredible happened.

I sat in my mother's house on Christmas morning, geared up for a very modest Christmas gift giving season. We were all scraping that year. I was hoping for an envelope with a little boost to my Fund. But then as my siblings start unwrapping their gifts, I hear my dear mom say "Jill, your gift is too heavy for your lap, why don't you come over here and open it right under the tree!". I could hear the glint of glee in her voice. I trembled. I walked over to the tree and saw the big rectangular box wrapped in plain paper. And I tore into it to discover!!!!!!!......... A white Kitchen Aid standmixer.

Has there ever been a more ungrateful, undeserving, horrible daughter in the history of daughters? I didn't see a KitchenAid. I didn't see the object of years of envy. I saw the wrong color. My eyes gave me away.

"What's wrong? You've wanted that for SO long!"

"I love it mom. I do. I was saving up for the red one, though."

"Well, I'm sorry, honey, but that was the only one I could afford. The Marshall Fields is going out of business, you know, so they had really big sales back in October. I bought this one as an open box for less than half the price it would usually be. I couldn't have afforded it otherwise. It's your Christmas and birthday present. I'm sorry it's not the color you wanted. It can't be returned."

Have you ever hated me more than you hate me right now? I hate me right now. I hate even recounting that story. I hate the ungrateful freak that I was then. I hate that there was even ONE Christmas that I made my mom feel sad about a gift that she had worked and scrimped to give to me (Unfortunately, there is at least one other story like this, but cut my some slack - I was 8 then). I wish I could get EVERY Christmas with my awesome mom back. I would trade every KitchenAid in the world for more Christmases with my mom. And I whined because I didn't get the red one.

And you know what else?

Sitting here about 8 years later, I have a white-on-white kitchen and I love it. I love my white mixer. It doesn't sit on the counter and scream APPLIANCE! It blends in with the white. It sits demurely waiting for me to bake something or whip up some cream. And I think of my mom every time I see it. She didn't even have one of these in her own kitchen. Maybe she even wished that she had had one. But she searched high and low to get one for me one year, and now I hug the mixer sometimes and thank it for its years of dutiful service.

I did kind of make up for my terrible showing that Christmas morning, and call my mom just about every time I used the mixer from that day forward and thank her for it, and apologize for being a brat. She must have heard me say "I'm actually SO glad I have a white one!" at least 50 times. So hopefully that helped. But that whole rotten display of Stuff Over People continues to convict me about my heart and getting "my heart set" on things. I never ever EVER want to do that again.

What about you? Have you ever let a thing mess with your brain and heart? Do you wish you could go back in time and Scream for Joy over a white stand mixer?

When A Good Deal isn't a Great Buy - Choosing Stuff That Will Last

It's Boot Season again - Hooray! That means I get to bust out my mom's circa 1975 Frye Boots. Believe it or not, boots are hard to photograph in an interesting way. But these boots ROCK. And I get complements on them every time I wear them. They are creeping up on 40 years old, and they still look awesome. Mom actually had TWO pairs of Frye boots in her closet, which seemed Way Way Over the Top for my mom. My Mom didn't spend lots (any) cash on herself by the time she was my mom. So knowing what I know about how much Frye boots cost now, I'm sure these were a save-up purchase. And judging by the re-soled wear, she wore them a lot. And here they are, on my feet, rocking my jeggings and Dress Over Pants concoction in 2012. So an excellent cost-per-wear investment. Plus, I get to wear my mom's boots. The best hand-me-down ever.


Most of my clothes are cheap. Seriously cheap. Not just "Bought on J Crew clearance", although there are some of those. Cheap like "bought from Target/Old Navy/TJ Maxx and barely make it through one or two seasons before I start eyeing them with scissors to repurpose their raggy fabric". I own maybe 3 or 4 items that I could consider "investment" purchases. Clothes that I love and wear regularly, cost a bit more, and are holding up really well. Most of my stuff, however, has little to commend it into the "Excellent Stewardship of Resources!" category. Most are items that I just thought were cute and within my budget and ended up in the cart.

I'm starting to see improvements in this area. Maybe it's getting older. It's much easier to stick my fingers in my ears and sing LALALALALALAAAA over the siren song of trendy clothes. I also have a job where jeans and a t-shirt are just about requisite 3 out of 5 days a week.

Obviously we all need clothes to wear, and I'm not advocating for sackcloth and ashes. I also do not think that it is an ethical affront to look cute. I could actually use some more lovely in my life. I am usually loathe to spend big money on clothes, but I'm beginning to realize that disposable trends aren't as much fun as they used to be. The standard fashion mag refrain is to buy "the essential 10" (or 15, or 20) items in classic, flattering cuts and then care for them meticulously so they last for years. I'm down with that, but how do I start? Buy one piece per year for the next ten years? That's not a terrible idea, actually. As least I can be classically fashionable by the time I'm 45.

So what do I do with all the other stuff? And how many items of clothes do I really need? "Purge the Closet and Dresser" has been on my To-Do list for several weeks now. I was dreading it at first, but then I read this post  from Jamie The Very Worst Missionary and I got some mojo going for PURGE THE JUNK! I'm interested to see what is left after I donate anything that doesn't fit, doesn't flatter, or is just plain ready to be demoted to "fabric".

Ok, really this whole post has been my round-about way of trying to process whether or not I should consider doing something I swore several years ago that I would NEVER do: Should I FINALLY buy a classic, well-made leather  bag that I will just use and use and use and use rather then the "please please make it one more season" pleather or canvas bags that I keep burning through like birthday candles? I love me some purses. I used to have a lot more energy for wearing them like accessories, but the reality is that I pretty much use the same bag every day. Until it crumbles and shreds into sad little vinyl chunks. I'm researching recycled leather bag companies, which I feel sort of OK about, but I just cannot bring myself to purchase new, fresh-off-the-cow leather. Even though those Frye boots are a testament to the longevity of a well-made and virtually timeless slab of hide.

I have leather shoes, even other leather boots. And I do own a couple of small leather purses that have been gifted to me over the years. But now I struggle to put my cash into leather, or to wear it as if to say "Yeah! I'm totally cool with this!".

So if you have a vintage leather bag that you never use, or a suggestion for a great place to get some repurposed leather goods, or can help me with this clash of values (animal-free vs. durability and fewer disposable faux-leather accessories), shoot me a note. I'm gonna head over to Etsy and Ebay and see what I can find.

Steady Progress Towards Major Change

On August 1, I announced to myself that I was going to stick to a "More with Less" vegetarian gluten-free diet. A few days later, I upped the ante and decided that I was going to purge my diet of all eggs and dairy as well. That would have made me some kind of grain-free vegan locavore or something. I was convinced that Sweeping Change was the way to go. Cold Tofu-Turkey, total elimination.

But guess what?

It did not work. Not even a little bit. I didn't really know what I was doing, and 3 days into spinach salad for every meal I revolted and went right back to cheese and polenta and sordid affairs with buttermilk biscuits. If I had been a little more self-aware, maybe I would have remembered that GRADUAL progress has served me pretty well, whether in training for and running a marathon injury-free, or waking up every morning, gazing at my painfully gray haired reflection and deciding to stick with my decision to NOT color my hair. Success from small decisions and small disciplines made over and over and over.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, I thought maybe some of you are feeling like I sometimes do when I think of all the BIG changes I want to make in my diet, my consumption, and my life. I feel overwhelmed. I start to despair and think that if I can't change everything, why bother changing anything? Not true, my friends. Don't listen to the haters in your head.

Just choose something, make the change, and then keep at it. You don't have to start with food. Here are some things that I have changed in my daily routine that have made small but hopefully appreciable dents in my chemical exposure, for example:

1. Home Made Mouth Wash

Which consists of a tongue scraper coupled with a gargle-and-swish of warm water with sea salt and a few drops of peppermint oil. I was skeptical, but this works for me! Just a little freshening boost. Husband approved, BTW.

2. Coconut Oil for dry skin

I thought this would be kind of gross too, but I LOVE IT. I smell faintly of Almond Joy all day, and it makes my skin feel smooth and soft. It is a little oily when you first slather it on (right out of the shower seems to work well for me so far), but it dries really nicely. No more nasty lotions. You're rubbing that stuff into your skin, people! eeeek. I may experiment with a few drops of essential oil mixed in to the coconut for a different scent. It makes me hungry to smell a little like candy.

3. Mechanical rather than chemical exfoliation

I confess that I don't use my dry brush every day. I should, though, because I really like that I can see the dry skin flailing off me in every direction. You use this stiff-bristled brush before you get in the shower. My English friends say that it is also excellent for reducing the appearance of cellulite, but I don't think I've used it often enough to see a difference. Doesn't hurt to try though, right?

4. Salad Dressing As  Oil Method Face Wash

Castor Oil + Extra Virgin Olive Oil makes a surprisingly effective face wash. Yes, it feels a bit like rubbing salad dressing on your face. And yes, I was scared about it because of my persistent adult acne, but I think it works as well if not better than any of the commercial face soaps I have tried. Our current apartment's bathroom sink does not get quite hot enough to make the requisite steamy washcloth used to steam up your pores and wipe off the oil, so I do sometimes use commercial face soap when I'm in a hurry in the morning. I can make the steamcloth work in the shower, but prefer a leisurely night time routine where I can wipe the grime of the day off with something ultra natural and not at all drying. Check out my whole post about the glories of the Oil Method.

5. Mason Jars for Everything!

We wanted to get away from storing stuff in plastic right around the same time that I started buying things in bulk whenever possible. We had repurposed some salsa jars and pasta sauce jars and love them very much in the cabinets. But if you have things out in the open, or need to freeze something, Mason Jars are the way to go. Plus, they only cost about $12 for a box of 12. Way cheaper than Pyrex. And unlike most glassware, many sizes of mason jars can be used to freeze stuff as long as you leave an inch or so of room at the top when you fill it up. I LOVE jars. I use them to take food to work for lunch, to store stuff, and even as portable mugs. Vessel + secure lid = endless possibilities with NO plastic.

Next up, hopefully, will be to permanently switch to natural toothpaste, home-made deodorant, Dr. Bronner's soap in the shower, and only replacing cosmetics with totally natural versions. I keep saying I'm gonna do that, but I keep not doing it.

Here's to baby steps! What are some of your small changes that have added up to big differences in your home, habits or budget? 

Grace and Grief - What to do when a friend is grieving

Lily of the Valley - Mom's favorite .

Ok, so this post is a bit of a departure from the usual Greeny memoir. I hope you'll bear with me.

There hasn't been any tragedy close to me recently, which is probably why I can write this today. But as many of you know, I've lost both my dad and my mom within the last 11 years to brutal diseases, so I've lived (and am living) some grief. I have some insider knowledge. But I've also found myself fumbling for words, for hugs, for meaningful action when a friend has lost a parent, a sibling, a spouse, a child, a close friend. I feel like I should be an expert, but I usually find myself paralyzed with insecurity and questions. So I'm writing this post as much for my own instruction as anyone's.

Once in a while a friend will write or call and say "My friend just lost her mom. What should I do?" and I'll just "hmmmm" anxiously into the phone and say unhelpful things like "One of my friends mailed a box of my favorite candy and snacks when my mom died. My roommate baked 3 dozen healthy muffins and put them in freezer bags so I would have over a month's worth of breakfasts for mornings when getting out of bed required a feat of super human strength. My college friends gave me a sympathy card with a photo of a bunch of them mooning. That made me laugh." Every person is different. A card with the naked butts of your close friends in the funeral receiving line is a risky, but dearly personal (and for me, perfectly apt) move. I felt loved, known, and surrounded by people on whom I would rely for sanity and perspective in the days ahead.

I have come across a few extremely well-written articles over the past couple of years and I wanted to share them. Both of the links at the bottom are to essays about losing your mom. These naturally resonated with me, but I think there are some key nuggets of wisdom that can help you love just about anyone who is grieving. I've summarized a couple of key points:

• Americans suck at grieving. We have few rituals and almost no public acknowledgement of grief once the funeral director locks up after the service. In cultures where grieving is woven into the fabric of daily life, we wouldn't have to ask what to do when someone dies. We'd all know what to do, because we would have been visiting, eating, praying, crying, singing, or storytelling with our grieving friends and neighbors since we were kids. So don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do. You are not alone. The important thing is to DO SOMETHING.
• Do something. Say something. Send a card. Say "I'm so sorry". Reach out even though it is awkward or weird. Even if you are not BFFs with the person. The articles give some sage advice about what NOT to say ("She's in a better place." and  "It's God's will." come to mind. Even if you personally think that is true, choose a different thing to say. Trust me.). Facebook is OK as a last resort. It's better than nothing. A call, card, or visit is better. Don't be offended if your sincere "How can I help?" goes unanswered. She probably has no idea what to say or ask. Just like you, she doesn't have a cultural script for this. If you can think of something creative, or if your church or office can organize meals or child care or laundry or errand running, then do it. But please don't wait for the grieving person to turn up with a wish list. 
• Grief is more like a new state of being than a process with an end point in sight. Does it get easier to behave like a normal person? Yes, it does eventually. But it has been 11 years since my dad died, and I am not "over it". I'm even less over mom's 2009 death. The essay series in Slate by Meghan O'Rourke does a beautiful job describing the long process of putting your life back together after someone dies. You are muddling through, but in our culture you still have to go right back to work and eat and shower and act like a civilized human being. This looks different for everyone. Some dive back into keeping busy and getting back into the swing of routine. Some, like me, almost get fired from their jobs because they can't pull it together even 2 months after the funeral. It's not like you need to walk on egg shells with a grieving person. Or never mention your own mom again, or worry that any moment your grieving friend is going to burst into tears, change the subject, or wig out. She might. And that's Ok. Sometimes I cry when I talk about my mom or dad, but that doesn't mean I don't want to talk about them. Which brings me to my #1 Word of Wisdom:

Talk and ask about the person who has died. As Laura Fraser said in her article for Whole Living:

When someone is gone, we are hungry to talk about them, to conjure them from memories, to linger long enough to recall vivid moments.

Talk about the person and her life, not her death. If you knew her, share stories. Talk about details you remember about her - her cooking, her voice, the smell of her perfume, the bright scarves she wore, the day she sent flowers to you at work when you got engaged, etc. If you didn't know her, ask questions. What did she do? Did she grow up in Illinois? How did she and your dad meet? Keep asking. Keep talking. Even years later. Especially around holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, and milestones. Some of the most dear and intensely healing conversations I have had with friends over the past three years have started with someone being brave enough to ask me, out of the blue, something like "What did your mom like to cook at Christmas time?" or "Oh my goodness, I bet your mom would be SO happy to hear that!". It's OK to say something that results in tears, BTW. If given the choice between "crying in the grocery store" and "never getting to talk about my mom even though I think about her every day", I'll take crying.

I hope these are helpful to you sometime down the road. I highly recommend these two links, both called "The Long Goodbye", aptly enough:

The Long Goodbye, by Laura Fraser for Whole Living magazine

The Long Goodbye, Part 1 in a series of 9 excellent essays on bereavement by Meghan O'Rourke for Slate.

August's Food Challenge Was a Dismal Failure. Good Thing There are More Months.

August was supposed to be this month of BIG changes to our food life. Oh, we were going to eat simply and only eat out once per week and volunteer at food justice organizations and pray and fast and I totally expected that by early September, I'd be able to announce on the blog that Oh My Gosh, Our Food Life is Totally Overhauled! We are "more with less" rockstars! You can TOTALLY do it, because we love food and eat too much and go out too much, so if we can make it work, then you can totally do it.

Well, we failed. Miserably.

We didn't do any of those things. In fact, we spent more money on groceries in August than most months in recent memory. AND we bought lunch and dinners outside of the house more times than I can imagine as well.

I talk a good game, friends, but when it's time to put down the aged English cheddar and walk away from the third Panera salad of the week, I failed. I blogged and talked and thought about food much more than usual, but I didn't actually change anything. I am a fraud.

Or, to be more charitable with my wobblings, I could say that I am in the "Preparation" stage of one of my favorite Social Work models, the Transtheoretical Model of Behavioral Change. The TTM, as it is called, outlines 6 stages of change that people go through in order to make dramatic life changes.

Here it is, copied and pasted from good old Wikipedia:

Stages of Change

• Precontemplation (Not Ready)-"People are not intending to take action in the foreseeable future, and can be unaware that their behaviour is problematic"

• Contemplation (Getting Ready)-"People are beginning to recognize that their behaviour is problematic, and start to look at the pros and cons of their continued actions"

• Preparation (Ready)-"People are intending to take action in the immediate future, and may begin taking small steps toward behaviour change"

• Action – "People have made specific overt modifications in modifying their problem behaviour or in acquiring new healthy behaviours"

• Maintenance – "People have been able to sustain action for awhile and are working to prevent relapse"

• Termination – "Individuals have zero temptation and they are sure they will not return to their old unhealthy habit as a way of coping"

Ok, so we still have some significant work to do before I could say that we have made specific overt modifications in modifying our problem behavior (eating like we own the world) or acquiring new healthy behaviors (mindful, simple, grateful eating habits and food advocacy activities). 

Just wanted you all to know that. Because I read a lot of blogs, and I see the sheen of the bloggers awesome self-transformations, or Gold Star Parenting or Garden of the Millennium badges or whatever, and I feel bummed that I am not that awesome. So I just wanted to go on record with the admission that I am Not That Awesome about food. It is difficult. It involves a lot of psychological, emotional, and practical junk upon which I have clearly not yet gotten a handle.

So we're still trying. Still trying to take those overt modifications. Still working on our food budget, our menus, and our lifestyle to see some progress and lasting change. When it finally starts working, you'll be the first to know. In the mean time, I'll keep writing about our aspirations, flops, and successes. Because I'm sure we'll eventually have some of those too.

Message me if you have had any grand success in overhauling your food life. I'd love to hear from you! And if you'd like to guest-blog, that would be awesome too.

More With Less Part 3: Why I Don't Eat Meat

Thinking about writing this post has been giving me the cold sweats all week, so let's just go with the blunt opener, shall we? Rip off the bandaid and get to it.

My decision to keep a meat-free diet (both times I have made it) has been, in my opinion, the most significant lifestyle change I have made to live closer to my spiritual convictions.

There. I said it.

Can we still be friends? I've intentionally avoided talking much about vegetarianism on the blog because I know this is a touchy subject. How do I know? Because I've been rehearsing my "Please don't think I'm a self-righteous far-left Neo Pagan. Please know that I am not judging you for savoring your burger. Please believe me that this is a personal decision and I am not going to hand you a PETA pamphlet when you ask me to have lunch" answer to the oft-asked question of "So, why don't you eat meat?" It feels, at least to me, like there is often an assumption that vegetarians judge omnivores, and/or feel sorry for them and their slowly-clogging arteries. I eat a lot of cheese. My arteries are clogging if anyone's are (Oh, I'm not even going to tiptoe towards my vegan daydreams in this post). And I don't judge you for eating meat. If it looks like I am turning my nose up at your plate, it's because I'm trying to get a good whiff of your steak.

As my wise co-conspirator Jackie reminded me a few month ago (about a totally different subject, but her comment rings true in this discussion), we are not all convicted about the same things, and that's OK. Not everyone is going to feel compelled to give up meat. But I have been, and the thing about convictions is that once they settle in and grab hold of you, your heart makes it really uncomfortable for you if you continue to pull against them.

The simplest answer I can give to the "Why don't you eat meat?" question is this:

I am convinced that the meat industry is bad for people and terrible for the environment and I don't want to support it. It exploits animals and exploits people and causes intense suffering. I believe that God cares about  all of His creation, and that the inhumane treatment and death of millions of animals each year grieves Him, and it certainly grieves me. I am fortunate enough to live in a time and place where there are plenty of healthy ways to eat a balanced meat-free diet, and I'm thankful that I can opt out of an industry that I do not want to support. Plus, my mom died of cancer, and I'd just as soon hedge my bets against a diet that puts me at higher-risk for serious illness. Doctors know that high meat consumption (aka: the typical American diet) increases your risk of cancer and heart disease, and I'd really rather do what I can to avoid those.

But that's not how I put it if someone asks me face to face. Especially here in the South, the land of pig-pickin's and intensely devoted adherents to tradition, southern food, and family recipes. Even in Chicago, though, I hedged a bit. Diet and food are deeply personal, intimate topics of conversation, and people (including me) tend to be very protective of their food choices. I get it. I respect your choices! My diet is not exactly a pillar of virtue. I eat lots of sweets and other things I know to be bad for me and bad for the environment. But giving up meat, for me, was a simple and obvious step towards living in a More With Less attitude towards my food.

Yum! Totally tasty, filling, and meatless.

The More With Less cookbook (at least the older version that I got from the library) only had a half page devoted to considering the role meat should play in a simple diet, and while it used that space to encourage readers that a balanced meat-free diet is healthy and provides adequate nutrition, it acknowledged that most North Americans were probably not going to give up meat entirely. It pointed out that meat production requires a lot of resources (water, grain, land) and produces a lot of pollution, and encouraged readers to limit their meat consumption to 1/4 pound per person per day, and flatly calls anything more that that "waste".

I haven't always been convicted about meat. In fact, after eating meat-free for 5 years, I gave up on it and starting eating chicken and fish. Eating vegetarian is an omnivorous world can be a lot of work. Especially if you don't know a lot of other veg people. Chicken noodle soup and sushi and grilled salmon are their own sort of comfort-food, and I was in a place in my life where I was strongly inclined to turn to food for comfort. But then, I met Les. Les had been eating a vegan diet for 5 years, and also happens to be an excellent cook (I'm a lucky girl!). So, when we got married, one of our first major joint decisions was to meet in the middle and keep a vegetarian diet together. He added eggs and some cheese back in, and I said good bye to meat. Being a team about it is incredibly helpful, but even when I was single, eating veg was doable. I've learned a lot since that first foray into meatless menus, and I can honestly say that my diet is a lot more varied and interesting now than it ever was. Beans, lentils, quinoa (a complete protein!), some soy/tofu, (though I'm not a huge fan), and lovely armloads of vegetables that I never thought I could learn to love are now the mainstay of our diet. I still eat eggs and cheese, and Les has them once in a while. When we get up the motivation to go to the big Farmer's Market here in Raleigh, we can even get small-farm raised eggs and Animal Welfare Certified goat's cheese, which is awesome, but honestly, we don't drive out there as often as I'd like. We acknowledge the inconsistencies, and do the best we can.

My "conversion" from omnivore to herbivore, like many major life changes, is a plodding and circuitous story. The short version is that I was 23, living in Chicago, and starting to swim a bit deeper into the sea of social justice issues and realizing that following Jesus meant more than church and prayer and "trying to be good". I was reading about the growing movement of believers and "Creation Care" advocates who believe that the Bible teaches us to care for the Earth and to speak out about wastefulness and disposable culture. I read an excerpt from the classic "Diet for A Small Planet", and I can still picture the inverted pyramid diagram that showed the staggering amount of water and land it took to produce a pound of edible meat. And, I learned that the Tyson meat-packing plant in the Chicago suburbs is staffed almost entirely by low-wage, no-benefit workers, most of  whom are recent immigrants or refugees who can find no other work. Human suffering and environmental damage were the first pieces to fall into place for me. Even for me, the animal lover. I had grown up in farmland and watched cows roam lazily through the fields. They didn't look unhappy. My relatives were hog farmers on an mid-sized farm. The pigs looked more-or-less chill. I knew that meat was made from animals, but the brutality of Big Agriculture and factory farming hadn't really sunk in yet. But then I started reading. And, heaven help me, watching videos online. And that nearly pushed me over the edge to give up meat altogether. But not quite. It wasn't until I killed a couple of tree frogs that I decided "enough is enough".

My pet goldfish had died, and I went in search of an apartment-friendly pet. I brought home two adorable, zen-faced tree frogs and a little terrarium. I loved those little guys for the 4 days they survived in my care. I was eating a turkey sandwich at work when my roommate called me and told me that my tree frogs were dead. Really dead. "WHY?!?" I begged her. And she, a vet tech and zoo keeper, convincingly informed me that they had starved to death. I hadn't gotten them the right food, and they hadn't eaten in 4 days. A dry sob chugged in my bread-and-lunchmeat-choked throat, and I decided right then that if I could cry for those frogs then I should cry for the turkey in my hand. And for five years I didn't eat meat again.

And now, it has been over 2 years on this second go-round. I will confess that I have had a nibble here or there. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes not. When I did my grain-free elimination diet this winter, I ate some chicken. I was so hungry and anxious and I thought I was going to go bonkers. And I may or may not have taken a sample of grilled shrimp at Whole Foods one day and devoured it with slightly guilty glee. But 99% of the time, I'm veg and happy. And if I ever feel myself waffling in the direction of a fish taco, I look at AugDog and remember that I do not want to be part of any animal's death. I also think of a line from the poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay that one of my friends posted on Facebook several months ago:

"I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death."

I wish I could soften it a bit, because meat = death sounds harsh, even to me. But it's true, and I'm goin' with true over nice on this one. The Bible paints a beautiful picture of a New Heaven and a New Earth, when the world will be renewed, and not even the animals will eat one another. Of lions and lambs lying down together, and the end of all death. Woot! I'm all for that. Death sucks. I prefer to have no part in it.

There are a lot of great resources out there if you'd like to give Meatless Mondays a try, or do want to learn more about the meat industry in America. Even cutting back on meat will help your health and the planet. Check out any of these from your local library:

The Kind Diet - yep, its by Alicia Silverstone of "Clueless" fame. But it's a readable, engaging book about transitioning to a meatless (or vegan) diet. I've linked to her Kind Life website.

Becoming Vegetarian - slim book that I read many years ago when first trying out veg.

1,001 Low-Fat Vegetarian Recipes - simple, cheap, and tasty. Helpful when trying to avoid the pitfalls of gaining weight from all the fries and bagels you may or may not lunge towards when first leaning into a veg diet.

Whole Foods Vegetarian Eating page of their website. Yeah, they're a big company. Yeah, they can be really spendy. But it's a helpful resource.

Eating Animals - I haven't read this because I don't need to be convinced, but I've read enough commentary on the book to know that if you are looking for an in-your-face 360-degree look at the meat industry, this is the book for you. I've included 2 articles about the book below, if you prefer the "light" version.

10 Good Things Vegetarianism Can Do For You (And the World) from Sojourners
Eating Animals: 10 Reasons to Avoid Factory Farmed Flesh, also from Sojourners (somewhat graphic!)

There are not a lot of faith-based vegetarian books/websites out there - If you know of some, please let me know! Most that I've found are pretty low-tech and home-made and, well, dorky.

And, not for the faint of heart (be advised that there are graphic animal photos on the main page): www.chooseveg.com

Last but not least, a delightful YouTube video called Vegan Myths Debunked. LOVE. IT. Enjoy.

More with Less Part 2: Why it Matters What We Eat

Lovely, uneaten beans in our kitchen. 

It's August 20th, and I had a left over lemon poppy-seed scone for breakfast. And plenty of random processed stuff all weekend. And our fridge is still full, and our good intentions have not yet leaped onto our plates of their own volition. It's the truth. It is hard to eat well and thoughtfully. It is much easier to go with the path of least resistance (and least cooking, and least menu-planning, and least dish-doing). I'm still convinced it is worth the effort, but I have to get over this hump somehow.

I was sitting awkwardly at the little picnic-table area of Costco on Saturday, guiltily wolfing down my slice of Desperation Pizza and wondering exactly what it would take to turn things around. When presented with a quick, cheap slab of gooey cheese and pillowy dough and I haven't eaten lunch and it's 2pm, I lunged for it. Even though I knew I would be muttering profanities under my breath in a few hours because of the wheat. I wanted something to eat, and I hadn't set myself up to make a good choice. So I went back to the easiest and fastest path to shut off the rumbling in my stomach.

And besides, it doesn't really matter what I eat, right? I mean, those hungry people in North Korea or sub-Saharan Africa or downtown Raleigh or rural Mississippi are not going to go to sleep with full bellies just because I refuse to buy BigBox Store pizza or out-of-season tomatoes or anything that was shipped from Chile, right? Even if I change my diet and a few others follow suit, we're not going to change the food industry or re-direct any of my uneaten bagels to Bangladesh. So, do my food choices really matter to anyone but me?

Here's where I would love to reprint the whole 4-page chapter from the More-with-Less Cookbook called "Change - An Act of Faith". I have re-read it a couple of times this week to help me keep my eyes on the bigger picture, which, as the book points out, is essentially this:

In our complex world, it is hard to visualize how the struggles of a few families to save food will help. Channels to the needy are long and circuitous. Yet deconsumption is an obvious first step. The very complexity that frustrates easy answers also means that our decisions in the global family are interrelated. "Life is a huge spider web so that if you touch it anywhere you set the whole things trembling" says Frederick Buccher in The Hungering Dark.

 ...How can we continue overeating in the face of starvation, and be at peace with ourselves and our neighbors?... If we expect North American food conservation to totally solve world hunger, with good reason we sound naive and even paternalistic. Concerned Christians will move on to initiate food production and distribution programs. They will challenge oppressive government policy. But these broad areas are being dealt with in other settings. The scope of this book is necessarily limited to what some older preachers call "putting our own house in order". 

So that's where I'll commit to start. Putting our own house in order. My parents worked hard at this when we were kids. They were committed to some counter-cultural convictions, and it caused endless misery in my school-age years. WHY can't we have this toy or those jeans? WHY do we do these lame Family Devotions every Sunday? What if my friends find out that I'm reading Bible stories with my family, and that's why I've never seen The Simpsons?  They were putting their own house in order. They were looking at the Bible and at Jesus' teachings, and saying, as did the little cross-stitch next to the front door, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." For me and Les, we've been convicted that part of that means getting a handle on our consumption.

The More-With-Less Cookbook cites Jesus' miracle of feeding the 5,000 as a model for how WE are to respond in the face of seemingly impossible instruction and an overwhelming number of hungry people. We look at the huge need, then at our limited resources, and then back up at Jesus. He says "Share what you've got! There will be enough." and then we have to be obedient, even though that idea sounds nutty. Even if our faith is wobbly and our desire to trust and be obedient causes us to shrug and walk sheepishly into the crowd with one little loaf. We act in obedience, and God takes care of the rest.

Handily enough, the sermon we heard in church yesterday was ALSO about this miracle and the same point about obedience in the face of the overwhelming needs of the world. Here are the 3 tidy points of his three point sermon:

1. Jesus models a new perspective - We see overwhelming needs and feel powerless and frustrated. Jesus sees the crowd and is filled with compassion. 
2. Jesus gives us a new role - We're called to serve! Creatively, compassionately. Servanthood, he reminded us, is not limited by convenience, and we're not intended to take this all on our individual shoulders - we all share responsibility for everyone.
3. Jesus gives us a new set of rules - Nothing is impossible with Him. 

The disciples looked around at all those hungry people, and what did Jesus do? He didn't zap the loaves and fish and watch them mount into huge mountains of food. No, he looked at the disciples and said "You give them something to eat." They had some, and everyone around them had none. Sure, it looked like there was no way it would be enough. But it was! Plenty. Miraculously. And, as the story of the 5,000 reminds us so terrifically when it makes a point to mention that there were 12 baskets of food left over at the end (one for each disciple), when we work alongside God to fill the needs of others, HE PROVIDES FOR OUR NEEDS AS WELL.

So, bottom line. Will changing your food habits solve the world's food crisis? Will the world be a better place because you or I cut back? Will a scrappy band of Jesus-following vegetarian Robin Hoods start redistributing food all over the US and stand on a hill in the sunset and yell "As God as my witness, THEY will never go hungry again!"?

Maybe not. But maybe. And I'll just end with this. Like so many other ways that followers of Jesus are called to live lives that are not conformed to the patterns of this world, maybe our food choices are part of that set-apartness. Maybe they should be, if they are not. Maybe you or I or someone we know will feel God calling them to advocacy, or food redistribution, or to go down to the park where all the homeless gather and just share a big pot of chili with them and get to know their names. Maybe it's just time to get our own house in order, and keep looking up to God when we come face to face with the hungry and the sick and ask "Ok God, what are You and I gonna do about this? What do you want me to do here?". We have to start somewhere. Because I have already committed to Follow Jesus. And guess who he hung out with? Guess what his kitchen and pantry were stocked with? (Trick question!).

So I'll keep re-committing to getting my own house in order, and keep plodding along as I biff. I'll try to Give Thanks, to share, to be grateful. To celebrate joyfully, to live more within the bounds of "enough" and "plenty" instead of constant feast mode. And maybe, as the Mennonites who brought us the More-with-Less cookbook did, the money we trim from our food budget by eating simply can go directly to the folks who are hungry rather than right back into our pool of cash for other stuff we don't really need. It is not easy. It's a road less traveled. But we're on it now. One foot in front of the other, slowly first, then skipping. Then dancing.

More With Less Part 1: Reflecting on an over-stuffed fridge, stomach, and life

I came to the big revelation this week that the Food-focus month is going to take more than a month.

It might take us a month just to get our act together enough to START overhauling our consumption. For one thing, unlike steering clear of Target for a month which one can do with little more than a pang of stuff-lust, we eat every single day. Every darn day! And yes, I guess I could have started this new chapter off with a fast so I could really drill down prayerfully and thoughtfully, but I didn't do that. We're still eating while we figure out a new way to eat.

But I did get the More-with-Less Cookbook from the Library this week, and have been reading through the introductory chapters about WHY it matters (to more than just our waistlines and wallets) what we eat. Good, challenging stuff.

The Library only had the 1976 edition and I know there is an updated version available, but I'm pretty confident that the basic theological information and premise are the same: our North American overeating, overspending, and insatiable consumerism DO impact the world. And stand in sharp contrast to how Jesus told us to live. Our appetites drive the depletion of global resources and a sustainable environment, and keep unjust and inhumane systems chugging along.

When I first started reading the book, I thought "Ugh! A life without fancy food sounds pretty joyless and painful to me." It is always a bit painful to focus on giving up something you love (food!). The More-with-Less authors remind us that even on a simpler, more mindful diet, food can be a joy:

Around the world people who must live on monotonous diets still manage an occasional celebration. Undoubtedly their celebrations bring enjoyment in proportion to how much they vary from the daily routine. 

The four Gospels show Jesus entering wholeheartedly into times of joy and feasting...But the fact that in North America we tend to feast nonstop can dull our festive joy...More with less means affirming faith and relationships as the basis for celebrating, and letting food play a complementary role.

I look around our kitchen, and I recognize that on any given day it may appear to someone from another culture that we are in the throes of preparing for a feast. We have enough food on hand to sate a small army:

Jam-packed, albeit a euro-size fridge

Tons of dry goods and jars.

Potatoes, apples, onions, and other things that don't fit into the  fridge or cupboards.

Yep, that's even more food on TOP of the fridge.

I felt that twinge of embarrassment that pinches you when you arrive at a friend's house to crash for one night and your stuff and extra shoes and bag full of hair appliances make it look like you are staying for a month. We don't need this much food. We're not in a food crisis here in NC. In fact, we stock up on so many different things at once that a shocking percentage of it goes bad before we can eat it. Our eyes and our appetites are bigger than our stomachs. And stronger, it would seem, than our commitment to a life of faithful simplicity.

But change doesn't happen over night. Or maybe it does?

Confession: Les and I ate so much last night that I went to sleep uncomfortably full. We got up this morning and started talking about a steady change. We talked about the More with Less book, and other books that I've been reading for this month's challenge (more on those later). We're toddling towards major lifestyle changes here. We both LOVE food and LOVE to cook, so this will involve some cognitive retraining to get into a groove of not buying one or more of everything that looks delicious every time we go to the grocery store.

That would definitely help our food budget as well.

So here we are at the very beginning of this food-change journey, and it's already Aug. 12. And I can already foresee that the More-with-Less cookbook may not be a great fit for my Grain-free (or at least very grain-light) health needs. But the book is a great step in beginning to change the way we THINK about food and the impact our choices have on the big picture. That'll be Part 2. Stay tuned.

From not buying to not eating stuff we don't need. Mostly.

No-Buy July was a semi-fail.

I admit it. We still bought plenty of things we didn't need. We did decide NOT to buy a lot of things too. But even during a month we were supposed to be shutting down every lurch towards Chipotle, Target impulse buys, desserts, and Random Big Purchases (see below), we still bought stuff. If I didn't know better, I would say we "accidentally" bought stuff. Mindfulness is a discipline, and we're pretty flabby.

Just imagine what No-Buy July could be like if we were really committed, thoughtful, and fully engaged with our interactions between our wallets and the world! We're going to keep at it. Never going to get there if we only really try once a year.

I'll also confess that on Aug. 1 I went to Target. I went to Target, and I bought the "Best of Shark Week 25th Anniversary Special Edition" DVD, and a latte. And 4 random officey things from the dollar bins. Accountability, people! I need some! Technically the month was over, but obviously my impulse control could use a lot of work.

Speaking of impulse control, something about even TRYING to NOT buy things made us both extra twitchy to buy things. Sort of like the "Don't think about white bears!" psychology experiment from back in the day. Anyway, one night a couple of weeks ago, we had a conversation that went something like this:

Les: "Hey, don't we have some gift cards left over from our wedding?"
Me: "Yes. I've got the keys. Meet you at the car."

So we went to the Big Mall in Durham so we could skulk around the Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma. It's not really "buying" stuff if you use gift cards, right?

Les bought a guy-friendly apron from Williams Sonoma that was on clearance, and then we went into Pottery Barn. And after about 45 minutes of deliberation about how best to spend our generous gift card bounty, we came home with this:

Thanks, Monteiros!

A chunky-knit blanket for our bed for the winter. It is way too warm to use any time soon, but we wanted something to add some texture and coziness to our bedroom, so we chose this. Something we would never buy with our own cash. For now it sits on top of the trunk in our bedroom out of reach of AugDog paws.

An unnecessary purchase if I ever saw one.

Well, it's August now, and I'm newly committed to bulking up my mindfulness muscles. If I realized anything really shocking during No-Buy July, it's that it is STILL our food purchases more than anything else that derail our budget and indulge those impulsive craving-quelling purchases. I always want more chocolate bars, more apples, more ice cream, more fancy cheese, and any food I want any time I want to eat it.

So even though I've been eating my selfish way through these first 5 days of August and just went to Trader Joe's last night, the rest of this month will be devoted to Food Mindfulness.

For us, that will mean:

• Getting serious about our food waste. Any wasted food it too much, but this month we're making it a priority to plan meals and to EAT what we buy and use up some stuff in our pantry, fridge and freezer.
• Finding this book at the library ASAP and getting into it with our menus: *
• More-with-Less Cookbook: Suggestions by Mennonites on How to Eat Better and Consume Less of the World's Limited Food Resources
• Giving Thanks to God at every meal and snack.
• Praying for Food Justice. (Maybe while fasting. I'm looking into this.)
• Figuring out a way to help/volunteer towards food security in our community (food bank, etc).
• Some version of the "7" food rules. I haven't quite worked them out yet, but I'll post them when I have. Something along the lines of eating the beans and lentils and stuff we already have + a limited number of fresh foods per week. No processed, packaged, or convenience foods.

Easy enough to lay that all out on the blog, but if No-Buy July is any indication of wobbliness, I think I'm gonna need some compatriots for this. Anyone want to join us? Even if you join us in our mantra of "It's Just One Month"?

* Some inspiration for this month's Mindfulness project, particularly the cookbook recommendation, came from this blog post on the Deeper Story blog. 

The Littlest Lemon, and some water-saving tips

It is summer, and it is HOT. It's hot here in the southland, and it's hot up in Chi-town, and as far as I can tell from the national news and from Facebook posts, it is hotter-than-average everywhere.

The Hot pretty much destroyed my garden. Even the "full sun" green and red peppers, all of the herbs, and the dahlia bulbs that almost eeked out some blossoms before shrivling up and conking out.


I had almost given up hope that my sun-loving lemon tree had sufficiently tarted itself up to be pollinated. Her green leaves are flourishing, and she gets bigger every week, but no sign of any fruit. Until.

Suddenly one day there was a baby lemon hidden in the leaves! It's about the size of a Skittle, and I'm about ready to Freak Out with joy.  

Since it has been so hot, I know my fellow growers have had to invest a lot of cashola into their water bills to try to keep everything lush and green. We have a tiny garden, and obviously my best efforts did not spare my plants who just couldn't handle that much merciless heat every day, but I am happy to say that all of the water I've used to keep my tomato, fig, and lemon tree alive and happy (and the herbs, while they lasted) is water that would have otherwise gone down the drain. No extra water has been used.

Garden Water can be salvaged in simple ways, and once you get into it, they quickly become a routine:

• Shower Bucket - I collect around 3 gallons of water with every shower while the water runs to get warm, then dump it into a big lidded trash can on the porch.
• Watering can/Kitchen Bucket - We keep a small watering can on the kitchen counter (thanks, Jackie, for the idea!) Every time I boil too much water for tea, or anyone leaves some drinking water in a glass, it goes into the watering can (don't throw hot water directly onto plants!). AugDog's leftover water from his dish goes in when I give him clean water every day.
• Pasta/veg steaming water - You can also throw water from cooking pasta or vegetables or potatoes into the Saved Water trash can, though the bits of food can cause your water to attract bugs/grow a bit of mold. Better to let the pasta water cool and then throw it directly onto the plants rather than adding it to the storage bucket, or keep a separate bucket for the food-bits and use it within a day or so.

Lots of people have their greeny "thing". Some are really REALLY into recycling. Others bike everywhere, or champion local food, or write to their Congress person faithfully, or never forget to bring their cloth shopping bags, or only by fair-trade everything. Or a combo of the above. And I guess if I had to claim ONE green issue or habit with which I am proudly most dedicated, it would be saving clean water. I actually feel a sensation of despair and pain when I think about how we flush clean water down the toilet every day when so many around the world don't even have safe water to drink. And I go BONKERS when someone leaves the tap running while brushing teeth, doing dishes, or pumping soap into their hands to wash up. 

I have a long way to go, but here are some ideas and habits I'm working on to help save MORE water:

• Water-saving shower head - I love ours! Plenty of water and water pressure to take a good shower.
• NOT shaving my legs in the shower - Shaving while sitting on the edge of the bath with a little water stopped up in the tub saves gallons and gallons of water over shaving in the shower. Better shave, too.
• Consider not flushing the toilet every single time you use it. Just an idea. Give it a try. Grossed me out at first, but then I got over it. 
• Switch to water-saving appliances when it's time to buy new.
• Be efficient in the shower. I'm not a huge fan of long showers, but I've skimmed even more time out off of my shower by being efficient: Shampoo, add conditioner, start washing, rinse hair/body at the same time, done. You could even be a rock-star about it like my hubby, who takes military-style showers and turns the water off in between these steps. 
• Hand wash your dishes OR use the dishwasher, but don't wash your dishes and then put them in the dishwasher. Dishwashers use less water than hand-washing/rinsing, and if you get one with a separate water spinner for the upper rack, there is really NO reason to wash everything before you put it into the machine. 

Do you have any more ideas? I'd love to hear them! 

Put On a Frowny Face for Starbucks

Ok y'all - time to bust our your trombone to play a big Debbie Downer "Whaaah-Whaaaaaahhhhh".

I know knowledge is power, and we can't make better choices if we don't have accurate information. But don't you sometimes wish you didn't know? Wish for a do-over so you cold proceed in blissful ignorance? I've found out all kinds of routine-shaking, life-altering info on this quest for a healthier, greener, more responsible path. But THIS info goes into the category of "I kinda wish I didn't know."

100 Days of Real Food just posted this article about the nasty side of Starbucks.  And it is nasty, my friends.

I had already heard that the coffee you get from your smiley-faced Barista is NOT organic or fair trade, even though you can buy bags of organic fair trade coffee to make at home. And I know that Starbucks has been touting their "Trans Fat Free" stuff and "All Natural Ingredients" for a while now. I've even gawked in slack-jawed horror at the nutrition info for the stuff I occasionally noshed on while picking up my latte (no organic milk available BTW). But I really wasn't ready for the hard truth: that stuff is SCARY. Scary. Read the article and see for yourself. Spoiler alert: One of their Frappuccino ingredients requires a "substance known to cause cancer" label in California.

KNOWN.

To cause cancer.

Well this revelation couldn't have come at a better time for me, since our No Buy July scheme has succeeded  well enough from a "stuff" standpoint, but failed miserably from a budget point of view. We suspect that in our quests to avoid acquiring more stuff, our tendency to want to purchase things just shifted to categorize more things (ie: lattes and "healthy" snacks for me, other food/beverages for Les) into the NEED category. Our stuff purchases have been practically nil so far, but our overall budget hasn't shown much improvement because we've compensated for the magazines and cool new eco kitchen scrubbies (oh, the things we overbuy) by shopping for loads of food. And going out for burritos.

So Starbucks, now would be a good time to part ways. I can't afford you and you are killing me softly. And I never did bring Sock Bottle back to the counter. Whaaaah-Whaaaaaaaaahhhhh.

3 Crackers-Worth

The Great Harvest of 2012 yielded a grand total of ONE perfect cherry tomato:

Yep, just one. On the entire cherry tomato plant that I was convinced would sprout a bumper crop of precious red orbs. You can see in the corner of this picture that there is, in fact, a brand new little green tomato baby on the scene. She came out of nowhere, around the same time that I realized that Little Red was totally ripe. So perhaps I'll get two tomatoes this summer. But there are no other buds to be found.

I felt a lot of pressure to do something totally awesome with the globe-y little miracle. I had grown this tomato FROM A SEED! My very first gardening success. It got off to such a rocky start. I was sure it was doomed. But I was also determined. I faithfully watered it with water rescued from the shower drain and  inspected its leafy nursery every day for bugs; giving quiet thanks for the delicate spider webs that seemed to be doing a great job of that for me. This tomato grew out of a labor of love, and chugged along even though all of my other garden hopes and dreams fried in the ridiculous heat. This tomato was the lone survivor.

So I thought about what to do with it, and concluded that the only reasonable thing to do would be to transform it into a tomato's highest calling: fresh salsa.

Left over organic cilantro from a recipe last week, the tiniest garlic clove you've ever seen, and a tidy pile of onion bits, left over from the nubbin of onion we didn't use in last night's dinner.

Add some Lime Juice and a dash of salt, and you have the smallest portion of salsa I have ever eaten!

Exactly three perfect crackers-worth.

No-Buy July: Some Parameters

We're 4 days in to this year's No-Buy July, and so far so good. That might not sound like much of a feat to you, but I've already kicked down the impulse to buy several things that I would have otherwise tossed in my  actual or virtual cart.

I'm excited to see that a couple of you are up for joining us on this adventure, and we've already had some questions about the boundaries. Where is the line between "need" and "want"? What's the difference between buying something this month versus buying it on August 1? What if something I've wanted for a long time goes on sale? What about yoga/tennis/knitting/basket weaving lessons that I pay for every month?

First let me go on record with a disclaimer: I'm not a financial expert, I've never seen your family budget, and I don't know where the line between need and want will be for you. The line is wobbly, and I for one can rationalize just about anything.

This ability starts young. At my previous job, I helped arrange for volunteers to participate in a program called Junior Achievement. JA teaches grade school kids about money, the economy, and job skills. Adult volunteers to go into classrooms with visual aids and fun activities and help kids think and talk about the hard skills and soft skills of financial responsibility. I've accompanied volunteers on some of these classroom visits, and one 1st grade classroom exercise stands out in my memory as a TERRIFIC example of how early we start to recognize that the line between need and want is a blurry one.

The volunteer holds up a big card with a picture on it, and the kids are supposed to vote "NEED" or "WANT" with their own little cards. Some of the cards are straight forward, like a plate of food. But others can start up some pretty complex cultural debates, even among the Crayola set. For example, the picture of a car may be an obvious need to a suburbanite child, but inevitably in Chicago Public Schools, lots of kids will recognize a car as a WANT. They and their parents are getting along just fine without one. A home is a need, but the standard line drawing of a single family house with a fence and a yard is, in reality, more of a luxury than a need, especially to a city kid. Then you get into some rationalization. The picture of a Dog, for example. An adult can pretty easily talk a kid into recognizing that a dog is a "Want", but every stinkin' time I have seen this exercise, kids will come up with all kinds of reasonable arguments for Dog as Necessity:

• A guard dog keeps us safe.
• Some people need seeing-eye dogs to get around.
• Our dog makes our family happy. We need her.

And of course, now that we have Auggie, I put a pup into the "Need" category. But you see where I'm going with this. I can't really tell you where the line will be for you.

That said, Les and I have talked a bit about what we will and won't buy this month. For one thing, we're teetering on brokesville, so there are practical limitations. But this month is also supposed to be challenging, and reign in our impulse control. Here's the simplest way I can illustrate the parameters we are going to try to keep this month:

Things we need to pay for/spend money on this month:

• Fixed expenses: rent, car insurance, student loans, cell phone bill, internet, donations, etc.
• Food: a pared-down, realistic, well-thought-out menu of food we will cook at home, with a few limited but inevitable restaurant meals. No more than one "out" meal per week.
• Personal care necessities: we'll replace tooth paste, shampoo, dental floss, etc if we run out.
• Limited personal habit cash: I have my $15 Starbucks card, Les has a limited budget for wine and beer. Because we really weren't prepared to go cold-turkey on these liquids.

Things we will forgo:

• Stuff: new clothes, books, magazine, iTunes, notebooks, kitchen gadgets, craft supplies, garden stuff, pretty much anything one would buy at Target.
• Tennis Lessons: we had planned to sign up for the next round of classes, but we straight up can't afford it, AND I'm a bit wary of committing to twice/week classes for the next 6 weeks of inferno heat. If we budget for it, we'll sign up for the fall session.
• Food that we just "want" but is not on the meal list. No ice cream, random snacks, etc.
• Eating out more than once per week.

That's just where we are right now. If I were, say, taking zumba classes every month, I probably wouldn't skip a month if I felt that the classes were essential to my well-being and physical/mental health. But even if tennis classes were cheaper, I could probably still talk myself into a break from formal teaching and just try to commit to playing with Les twice a week. Still good exercise, and keeping up our newly-learned skills for free. But you'll have to look at your own lists and make the necessary tweaks.

If I learned one thing from trying this last year, it's that I buy WAY MORE CRAP than I ever realized. It honestly did not occur to me how often I let myself just buy things until I feel like my checking account has dwindled past the comfort zone. That's not a great way to live, and certainly not simple, green, or really even within my values.

So, there you have it. The beginning of some boundaries. Let me know what you think, how you're doing, and if you have any advice. Only something like 4 weeks to go :)

Mid-Year Do-Over Declared!

I hereby declare July 1 the start of our family's new fiscal year.

Like my money clip art? I'm not totally clear on the legal rules for  using google images on your blog, so I figured I should stick to the generic clippy art!

We have, ahem, been spending like mad this year. When I go manically through our online bank statements to figure out exactly HOW we have gotten where we are, I see only a couple of big, unplanned-for purchases: new tires on my car (Ouch. But crucial when tires are precariously worn.) and a vet visit for AugDog for some annual blood work that we should have budgeted for but did not.

We haven't been out buying lots of stuff (some stuff, admittedly, but not loads). The tale of woe that you can glean from our bank statements is that we spend $10 here and there (lunch, bottle of wine, fig tree, Starbucks, blah blah) and a whole WHOLE lot of money on food. Food we cook and food we grab on the go. Like, a staggering amount.

In reality, our spending troubles boil down to two main personal glitches: failure to plan and poor impulse control.


We have all these great ideas for healthy food to cook and we go to Whole Foods, the Farmer's Market, and Trader Joe's with Good Intentions Goggles on or something. We THINK we will totally make all 6 recipes for which we just gathered ingredients. We are SURE we will go through an entire bag of organic spinach. No matter how many times we toss out a slimy bag of half-eaten greens or scoop underwhelming leftovers into the trash, we still think we can and should shop to our ideals rather than our reality.

That, and we buy a lot of wine and beer. Summer nights on the back porch have ratcheted up our alcohol consumption.

Anyway, this accidental spending spree lifestyle is not gonna work. "No Buy July" was a great exercise last year, I'm going to do it again this year and rope Les into it as well. We've gotta get it together, people. We're regrouping. We're looking at our family budget as the moral document that it is: I spend money on things that I value. If I value generosity, simplicity, and debt-free lightness, then I gotta put my money where my mouth is. Oh, and "where your treasure is, there will your heart be also". I don't want my treasure or my heart to be in my closet or my fridge.

No Buy July will be a good entry point for reworking our finances and enacting some of the other principles from 7. We're not going to bring home any non-essentials this month. No magazines, no books, no clothes, no random cosmetics or hair junk or cool pens or house-prettying stuff. AND we're going to force our brains to figure out the actual amount of food we can cook and eat per week and not buy any more than that. Period.*

If you've never tried a month-long life experiment, I encourage you to give it a shot. I know it is kind of lame, but going for one whole month without ANY pop was kind of empowering, and it encouraged me through tiny impulse control successes that I really can make better choices. All those little decisions ramp me up for Bigger and Better choices. It's a start, anyway.

* Coffee is considered an essential in our house. However, Les bought me a $15 Starbucks gift card last week which we decided is a reasonable monthly latte budget. But other than that card, I gotta make home-made coffee work.