Frugal Friday: Food, Fitness and Frugality

We like to eat. We like to eat good food. Healthful food. Food with fresh organic ingredients. Eating is more than a matter of sustenance. It’s love and exploration. It’s enjoyment and nourishment.

To eat this way takes time and expense. A small container of truffle butter costs significantly more than a vat of Parkay. But a container of truffle butter costs oodles less than truffles themselves. And, for us, a 4 oz container will last three meals ... steak and arugula sandwiches, pizza with balsamic roasted tomatoes, brie and goat cheese and a final yet to be determined meal.

The steak meal was the most expensive ... ~$25.00 for ingredients. But there were leftovers for lunch so that makes two meals for our family of five. Of course you have to add in the cost of spaghettios for those too picky to eat the steak. The pizza was less expensive ... leftover dough -- free, leftover truffle butter --- free, leftover arugula -- free, cheese $9.00 from a local restaurant supply store, roma tomatoes ~$3.00. And we have tons of cheese remaining which will make its way into a future meal.

Now I know people who eat the same thing, night after night. These people also eat at 5 pm sharp each and every day. Beans, rice and vegetables. “It’s healthy,” they tell me, “It’s inexpensive.”

Their cooking may be frugal. It may be healthful. But it is downright boring and unimaginative! Certainly we have our moments when we are lacking time and creativity. Then we reach for the bag of veggies and rice, toss in a few cashews and voila - quick, easy and frugal meal. But to eat the same thing day in and day out? No thank you!

We prefer to explore. We like meals from all continents of this world. And when we can not afford to physically travel we visit cultures via their cuisine. We’re not Anthony Bourdain, mind you, we steer clear of tongues, brains and sphincters. But we do like variety. And cooking these meals at home most certainly saves money over eating out. So frugal? Yes. To an extreme? No. We live in these bodies and these bodies demand a modicum of pleasurable experience. How else is one to get through the twists and turns of life?

And speaking of bodies ... if one is going to eat and eat well one must also exercise. Because otherwise eating takes its toll (as my midsection can attest).

Exercise is one of those activities that appears expensive. After all it requires gym memberships, high tech machines, personal trainers and fancy attire, right? That's what they want you to think. They are vying for your hard earned dollar. They don't want you to consider alternatives. But, the reality of it is, exercise does not have to be expensive.

My son is the perfect example. He spends his days wrestling with friends, playing basketball, riding bikes and walking downtown. And he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on his body. Granted he’s a twelve-year-old boy. But I’d venture to guess that if we adults behaved a bit more like him we too would be physically fit and dare I say happier.

My son does not have fancy shoes. He has a garage sale bike. He has blue jeans and mom’s old sweatshirt. He uses his friend’s hoop down the street. If that hoop were not there he’d walk to the park. Exercise does not require an out-pouring of money.

But, you’re right, we’re not twelve. We’re adults with jobs and kids. We have work to do, houses to clean, meals to cook and carpools to manage. Who has time for exercise? Let me ask you this. How much television did you watch today? Were there moments when you had five or ten minutes available? How many pushups can you do in five minutes? How many sit ups? Remember jumping jacks?

Today I found an hour. An hour to walk on the treadmill and run a bit too. All the while watching the food network and dreaming up my next meal. Yes, we have a treadmill. It’s fourteen years old. It works perfectly fine. I’m willing to bet many of you have an old treadmill too. Or an exercise bike, or a step machine or other implement of fancy. A machine that was going to whisk you into the life you’d imagined, the life you’d always dreamed of.

Well today I challenge you. I challenge you to dust off the machinery and dust off your dreams. Do it for your health. The benefits are amazing; endorphins, increased energy, increased endurance, a better body. Do it for fashion. Picture all your skinny clothes lying in wait. This is my ultimate plan ... a few pounds to go and my wardrobe options will increase 10-fold without me spending a dime.

What? No equipment? Lift soup cans or gallons of milk. Get a piece of rope and jump over it. No. More. Excuses.

Reach out and grab the life that is waiting for you. Frugality and pleasure are not mutually exclusive. Neither are frugality and self-care.

You can be frugal and eat well.
You can be frugal and fit.
You can be frugal and happy.
You just have to be willing to do it.

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We interrupt this blog for a touch of bitching and speck of complaining.

When I was a child I assumed grown-ups were grown up. They were the mature rational beings that ran our world (maybe this assumption was made because my parents are such quiet analytical people).

Then I grew up. And to my dismay I found myself living and working among grown ass individuals who still behaved like children. The specifics of my current source of frustration can not be hashed out here in case my colleagues come across this post. But suffice it to say some people are difficult, irrational and just plain childish ... even if they are degreed professionals well into their fifties. Today I could not step back and allow the snarky email comments to slide off me like water on a duck. Apparently I’ve not been preening my feathers well enough because I had to respond. I told this person he was a childish imbecile, via email of course, cced to all other members of the board. Though if I had the opportunity to confront this individual in person I would have said the same thing. Now I get to attend the next board meeting and see him face to face. That will be such a joy.

Generally I am shy person. The quiet one sitting in the corner keeping my thoughts to myself. But with certain people I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. I am the little girl shouting it out against the good ‘ol boys that have run our society for so long. I’m not sure my response did anything to further my cause. I do, however, feel better having stood up for myself.

And there are other good things to come from this virtual disagreement. I cleaned my kitchen (those who’ve been here before know I clean when frustrated ... you’d think my house would be spotless given my level of frustration with so many things in this world. But you’d be wrong since there are more mess makers than vexed cleaners living in this particular household).

And the other good thing? I have something to write to you-- albeit a complaint but I’m blogging nonetheless.

Mmmm. I feel better. Thanks for listening. And now back to our regularly scheduled program; knitting and chickens ...

It seems I am perfectly content to follow the most popular bloggy trends. After a nearly two-month hiatus I am knitting again. This time I’m making a sweater, just for me. The February Lady Sweater. There are only 4,366 other people on Ravelry knitting this same garment. Mine is a lovely Cascade 220 blue heathers. And I think it is the reason I’ve been so quiet around here. The knitting forces me to think. Like a Sanskrit chant the pattern is a mantra to quiet my mind. Knit one, knit two together, yarn over, knit one, yarn over, slip slip knit, knit one.



Only I'm not knitting today, at least not at this moment for fear my stitches will be too taut. I don’t want a sweater with anger knit in. I don’t want a section of too tight rows, a permanent reminder of temporary frustration. I suspect a few more deep breaths and a little more cleaning and I’ll be able to hit the needles again (that sounds a bit like a drug reference doesn’t it?!! Ah well I’ll leave it for your amusement).

And another bloggy trend ... backyard chickens. I’ve wanted chickens for nearly a year now. This week I finally convinced the husband it was a good idea. Hip hip hooray! We bought coop plans and even picked out our chicken breed -Wyandottes. Wyandottes are hearty, winter ready, brown egg layers, amenable to confinement and docile. Plus they are gorgeous to boot! Once we build our coop I’ll be purchasing the chicks from My Pet Chicken. They ship them in the mail when the chicks are one day old. The only problem is, for our area, the minimum chick order is eight chickens. Legally we can have four chickens in our yard. So our next mission is find someone who wants to split an order of chicks. I really quite excited about this and will likely be blogging about our journey as we go.

And one more bloggerific trend we are participating in ... artist trading cards. My girls created five cards a piece which will be traded with other children their own age (see photo above). They get to participate in an art project and send and receive mail. Such fun! We’re getting these little buggers in the mail today.

Well it seems you are all caught up with the goings on here in my little neck of the woods. I hope you are all well and having a wonderful Wednesday!

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Dear Unknown Caller:

I know you are calling me. I see you on caller ID. I will never ever answer the phone. If you don’t have the balls to show yourself I have no need to talk to you. If it were truly important you’d leave a message. That ring invades my day like a rabid alarm clock bent on attack. My heart leaps into my throat. Nothing good comes from the phone.

I should just turn the damn thing off. Only my children also call, from school, and show up with an unknown ID. The schools around here have a liberal phone policy; my children ring to ask about play dates or whether we can have cookies after school. Does the administration not understand? My children do not have cell phones for this very reason (well that and I have no desire to pay out the ying yang for said conversations). These matters can be discussed over breakfast or on the way home. I do not need to contemplate baked goods while scrubbing the kitchen floor. And yes, I do my own floors. Strangely I haven’t been able to find anyone willing to work for free and be verbally abused by one child or another. It is so hard to find good help these days.

But I digress. Should my child break a bone, erupt in full body hives or surreptitiously vomit on your new shoes - by all means call me. I’m happy to step in and play the parent. But otherwise - shouldn’t they be studying? Shouldn’t you be teaching them something?

And, ye unknown caller, he who shan’t be named - I know who you are. I know what you want. You want my money. You seem to be mistaken. I have not won the lottery. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to win, what, 180 million dollars? Yes, that’d be quite lovely. However, I don’t play the lottery so my actual chances of winning are quite slim. Nor did I just receive an inheritance or any other large sum of cash.

I must admit, the most perturbing of these “unknown” stalkers is my alumni association. Do I want to donate to the program? Well, gee, let’s just consider that $90,000.00 student loan a donation, kay? I’ll be paying that off until I’m sixty-two. After that give me a buzz, perhaps I’ll feel like donating a bit more.

Don’t get me wrong. I may be frugal, I may be debt laden but I am not a miser. I do give. I give my time and, yes, I give money. But I prefer to be charitable on my own terms.

So, in conclusion, dear caller, don’t call me. I’ll call you.

Sincerely,
Perturbed in the Pacific Northwest