Living Lighter—We'll Start With the CSA

Two years ago, two of my favorite BTV people suggested that a bunch of us band together to support each other in an initiative (The Compact) that would help us all to reduce crazy consumption, cut clutter and waste and simplify our surroundings. It sounded really hard, but Jon and I were game. No, we could not commit to making our own laundry soap but, yes, we'd try really hard to not buy any new "things" for a year. With some exceptions. The effort was somewhat successful. (You can read about it here). 

Fast forward almost exactly two years to a couple of weeks ago when I started feeling super overwhelmed by "stuff." There were 9 kinds of snack crackers in my cabinet. The shelves in our basement and guest room were (and still are) stacked full of packed brown boxes never opened after our move. Which occurred 10 months ago. My closet and drawers contain loads of clothes I don't necessarily like anymore, jackets that I don't wear because they have missing buttons and ripped pockets, underwear from 2001 and two pairs of jeans that will never again fit unless I stop eating carbs, start nursing an 8-month old baby or begin running a half marathon each day. And I plan on doing none of these things. Our kitchen is overrun with potatoes from our CSA because we can't keep up. Because we keep going to the store to get the ingredients for recipes that "sound good." 

I wanted all of that extraneous stuff to go away. I craved The Compact. Or, at least, a Compact Lite. I* am planning to start again on March 1. 

I'm still nailing down the details—including "am I in for a whole year? 3 months? 6?"—but, so far, here are some of the things on my list of to-do's for March:

  1. Start meal planning with food we get in our CSA; supplement with grains and, a couple of times a week, fish (sustainably sourced) and/or meat (local or organic). Buy in bulk. Slow-cook beans instead of buying cans.

  2. Clean out drawers and closets: donate, repair, swap. (Don't buy anything new—at least for myself—for defined period.)

  3. Ditch crappy old cosmetics, toxic cleaning products, paints, etc. (disposing of them properly, of course). Use more natural cleaning products, making them whenever possible.

  4. Stop buying convenience items like counter wipes, face cloths, etc.

  5. Establish plans for a 2014 garden.

  6. Switch from a credit card that encourages unnecessary spending on "things" to one that provides kickbacks that can be used toward experiences.

Tonight, we started planning what meals we'd make from tomorrow's CSA pickup, and Jon made carrot/parsnip soup and roasted beets from previous Pete's Greens bounties. Our shopping list for the week is quite small. 

How do you simplify? 

*Jon, who has far less trouble with accumulating "stuff" than I do, is supporting but not necessarily fully participating in this effort. 

What’s for Dinner? Rice Bowls

Over here, dinner is my deal. Generally speaking, it's my job to plan, chop, cook and serve everything my family eats. I know how this sounds but it's not about gender roles really. It's about me having gone to school to study food and eating, and then taking a job that pays me to think about food and eating. It's about me enjoying the process of planning meals (as well as cooking them) and about Jon hating this chore—the planning part—with all his being.

Yet there are some weeks when I don't participate in this enjoyable process of planning meals. When this happens, behold The Rice Bowl. Simple, customizable and lightening-fast, this fail-safe dinner solution will please the pickiest of eaters. It will easily accommodate your favorite vegans and gluten-free friends. Think: taco bar with much, much more flexibility. The recipe is essentially rice (or "rice" - quinoa, farro, bulgur also work great) topped with whatever you can find in the fridge, the freezer or your pantry.

But I always appreciate a "recipe" so I'll share tonight's rice bowl spread and I'll give it a fancy name and a proper hednote. Enjoy!

Low-Hanging Fruit Rice (or "Rice") Bowls 

This completely customizable one-dish dinner is inspired by the absence of a dinner plan. Every ingredient is 100% interchangable with whatever you have on hand.

Ingredients:

  • Black rice

  • Canned white beans (cannellini), rinsed

  • Napa cabbage (CSA share from a few weeks back), shredded

  • Avocado, cubed

  • Red onion (CSA share from at least a month ago), diced

  • Cheddar cheese, shredded (by Julian)

  • Pepitas, toasted (taking 3 minutes to do this makes a huge difference)

  • Frozen veggies (the gross-looking weird ones with unnaturally square carrots - my boys love them), nuked.

Directions:

Cook rice, according to package instructions. Put everything else—rinsed, shredded, diced and nuked—into small bowls and let anyone eating pile on what they want.

Tip: If you have a five-year-old, or a greedy eater of any age, remind him (her) that it's not polite to serve himself (or herself) ALL of the avocado.

Lower the Bar, Feel Better

Maybe I've had high standards. Or medium-highish standards that have offered an easy out, an excuse, for accomplishing... nothing. If I couldn't do it "right."

If I couldn't run at least 3 miles, then I might as well not even lace up the shoes. What was the point? 

If I couldn't do runs with my friends, then snowboarding wouldn't be fun. I'll just stay home and make the chili.

If I didn't make a really amazing family calendar then I might as well just let everyone hang the free ones they got from their bank/car dealership/alma mater.  Or just use their iPhones. 

You know what I did in this fancy gear? I remembered, after a 6-year hiatus, that I ride regular, not goofy.

I practiced heelside and toeside turns and perfected hockey stops. On the kids' hill.

And then I had a beer with my riding partner to celebrate our progress. 

But, these days, there's no reaching the bars set where they've been. I can't always find time to run 3+ miles—but I can fit in 2 miles on the treadmill after the boys get off to school, before I shower and leave for work. I'm never going to ride like my past-pro (for real) snowboarding friends—but I can relearn the basics in lessons while my little guys are in their own classes so that I don't dread the family trips to the mountain that inevitably are going to happen for the next decade. 

And my 2014 calendars are going to be filled with the first 12 high-enough-resolution sorta cool photos I can find in the next 24 hours (or two, because then I'm going to bed). I've slacked just the right amount on this one: Shutterfly calendars are 50% off till January 7. 

What I've somehow finally started to learn in the last month or so is this: Lowering the bar is making me happier, healthier and richer. I think I'm becoming wise at 38.