BUDGET BYTES by Beth Moncel - Book Review

5/5 - So delicious that I read until my eyes went blurry!

Title: Budget Bytes

Author: Beth Moncel

Format: paperback

Published: 2014

Genre: cookbook

Publisher: Avery (Penguin Group)

Landed in my hands: purchased myself

Summary (from publication cover blurb):

A few years ago, Beth Moncel found herself, like many twenty-somethings, barely making ends meet. Living in a tiny, run-down apartment, being eaten alive by student loans, and sick of having to choose between buying toilet paper and fill her car's gas tank, Beth decided to cut down on the only expenditure she could: food. The trick was figuring out how to do so without resorting to peanut butter sandwiches at every meal. Armed with a degree in nutritional science and determined to eat healthily and well while cutting costs, Beth tackled the dilemma head-on.

By tracking her costs with obsessive precision, Beth learned which ingredients helped stretch her funds and which burned through them fastest. Eager to share her tips and recipes, she launched her blog, Budget Bytes. The blog soon attracted millions of readers clamoring for more.

Beth's eagerly awaited cookbook proves that cutting back on cost does not mean sacrificing taste. Budget Bytes delivers:

- More than 100 easy-to-follow, healthy, and affordable recipes for dependably delicious meals, like Coconut Chicken Curry; Mango, Jalapeño, & Quinoa Salad; Chorizo-Sweet Potato Enchiladas, and Teriyaki Salmon with Sriracha Mayo.

- Expert principles for cutting costs in the kitchen—including how to combine inexpensive ingredients with expensive ones to ensure that you can still have that pricey steak you're craving.

- Information to help you get acquainted with your kitchen, stock your larder, and get maximum use out of your freezer.

Many people assume that eating on a budget means compromising your standards; Beth proves that isn't the case. Whether you're urban or rural, vegan or paleo, Budget Bytes is guaranteed to delight both your palate and your pocketbook.


Review:

I can't remember precisely how I stumbled upon Beth Moncel's recipe blog Budget Bytes but it's a good bet Pinterest had something to do with it. Her recipe for Spinach Lasagna Roll Ups was one of the first recipes I tried online that became an instant family favourite, which prompted me to peruse her website and try other highly popular recipes. (I've boldly served her Italian Wonderpot—paired with baked skinless chicken breasts—to guests on a trial run of the recipe, to receive rave reviews).

Imagine my surprise when one day I (finally) noticed she's got a recipe book advertised in her sidebar. I poked around online reading up on it (are the recipes the same as her blog? does the book have more tips?), and the minute a little bird told me that she's got her best recipes saved for the book, I took the plunge and ordered a copy.

It's now dog-eared and full of stickies.

Over the summer I've served our family several of her recipes, and I have yet to find one that isn't a hit. We have specifically tried her Easy Meat Sauce (for pasta); Farmer Joes (a healthier Sloppy Joes knock off); Lemon-Garlic Shrimp Pasta; Savory Coconut Rice; Monkey Bread; Roasted Broccoli with Crispy Garlic; One-Skillet Lasagna; Firecracker Cauliflower; Five-Spice Chops; Chili-Cheese Beef 'n' Mac (think Hamburger Helper from scratch); Triple-Herb Mashed Potatoes; Peach Bubble Cake; and Indian Skillet Potatoes.

Granted, that's only thirteen recipes, but I'm not losing steam—I've another 14 marked to try once the weather turns, or during Mr Lannis' holidays (read: accepted time for truly experimental menus). Fact is, I can already tell from reading Moncel's write ups that these recipes are going to be hits.

Now while I've burnt my share of toast over the years, I'm not a beginner in the kitchen, but neither am I an expert. But I can tell you what I think Moncel is doing right, and why you should buy this book—or at the very least check out recipes on her blog:

- Budget Bytes is not intimidating. It's written for beginners, and the recipes are simple and classic. There's no need to go to cooking school to understand the concepts therein.

- Moncel breaks it all down: the costs; the benefits of meal planning; how to stock your kitchen and pantry; how to properly freeze food to cut back on waste; sample menus; conversion tables; and an appendix listing over 70 vegetarian and vegan recipes and where to find them in her book.

- There are Chef's Tips to help you become a more skilled participant in the kitchen, as well as Budget Bytes, which highlight cost-saving ideas.

- Each recipe has a code that correlates to how expensive the cumulative ingredients are, and how well the recipe freezes for leftovers—handy info if you're unsure of the number of mouths you're feeding on a given day, or like to prep freezer meals in advance.

- Its recipes are forgiving: we used leftover sausage instead of fresh for the meat sauce and guess what: nobody died. In fact, it was delicious. And I fully plan on defying instructions and using the slow-cooker instead of the stove top to make that Better-Than-Mom's Chili, because: hello, lazy! I'm fairly certain we'll survive that, too.

- Moncel's personality shines. She's written a short introduction to each recipe, and she's down to Earth and endearing.

- Great photographs. Never underestimate the power of food porn. Seriously.


The reason I am writing this review after only having tried thirteen recipes (fifteen if you count the two from her website) is that I have struggled to put this cookbook back in the cupboard since it was purchased. I keep flipping through, drooling, marking up, and adding stickies, and I know this book has been an investment I won't regret. I've already learned a thing or three.

What's the rule? If you get two good recipes out of a cookbook it's a keeper? So far Budget Bytes had proven that at least four times over and stands to do so another five times if it keeps to the current record. If you're still unconvinced, check out her blog, but remember: the book is even better!

One-Upmanship

And then Sandi at The Mrs came out of blogging seclusion* and was all, "bam! bam! bam! BAM! Look at all mah glorious posts!"

And that competitive little gremlin my brain went cross-eyed and replied, "well, BAM! Look at all mah glorious sheets!"

Yes, Sandi, I washed all the bedding in the house, hung it on my triple lines, and then took a picture. Because you may have won the blogging battle, but HOUSEWIFERY AND BLOGGING, BOOYAH!

Kind of like Jane Eyre and Jayne Cobb, better together, no?

Wait... this might be lost in translation... I possibly need more tea...



* Blogging seclusion: Otherwise known as conducting a household with three kids under six, two successful businesses, and one major kitchen/roof/who-knows-what-all-by-now renovation.

Patches, Patches, Patches

If it's one thing I can rely on my kidlets for, it's their ability to make a liar out of me, it's their ability to blow the knees out of any given pair of pants.

I'm lucky if we get six months out of a pair of hole-less school pants before they need to be relegated to the play clothes drawer.

This means I absolutely refuse to pay full price for jeans (because we'd lose our house). In fact, what is new for my kids is usually only new to them.

Yep. The majority of their name brand (Levi's, Gap, Old Navy, Children's Place, and Osh Kosh) clothes come from second hand stores. Local small businesses or, when I travel to the nearby metropolis, second hand chains like Value Village and Once Upon A Child.

Experience has told me the best place to find gently-used-can't-tell-them-from-new (and sometimes brand spanking new, original tags still on them) jeans is Value Village. For $20 after 13% tax I walked out one day with four pairs of perfect condition jeans for the boys, and a toque (WTF is it with toques in our house?!).

And when Mr Lannis went hunting I went on a rampage, I whipped through this house getting things done and came upon the mending basket which prompted me to dig through the boys' play clothes drawers for pants in need of help, and heaped them all together in the kitchen.

Lo and behold, the pile was huge.

About a dozen pairs of pants, some with both knees blown out, some clearly unsalvageable (that's fine, someone needs to be the sacrificial meat to save the herd). Three pairs were Mr Lannis' too.

Hm. None of them were mine.

Weird...

Anyhow.

I patched. And patched, and patched, and pricked my hands with pins desperate to keep denim in place, drove myself crazy scrunching up pant legs so my sewing machine could properly zip those squares (or circles, as the case may be) into place.

I'm not saying it was easy--there's an art to sewing thick denim within the confines of a pant leg, but I'm saying it can be done.

And as they are bored with their monster patches, I opted for something a touch different this time. Easier, too, believe it or not--or at the very least less prep work overall.

Remember folks, sometimes the key to pulling it off is to veer away from perfection, artsy and fun, that's the way to go. If they look like they were never meant to be identical, it'll never look like you missed the mark.

Or at least that's what I tell myself... ::snort::

Day in the Life

Recently a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless—she knows who she is and can forever live in private shame for her actions, heh) asked me what I do all day.

What I do all day?

What I DO all day?

Yes.

No, I'm not insulted. I can get defensive as much as the next non-stop housewife, except, well, I had a hard time answering this question. At all.

It's true.

At the time I could only blink blink blink in response, because my initial thought was, "well, you've finished the ginormous refinishing project. You're almost finished painting the living space. You're not exactly writing... she's right... what do you do...?"

And I understand the question was directed less at the finite tasks and more at the repetitive must-happen-every-day bullshit of housewifery (that's a technical term, by the way). And regardless of the fact that clearly it all gets done eventually (usually immediately before it's time to happen again... ugh), I found myself wondering in mild am-I-suffering-some-kind-of-amnesia horror... what do I do all day?

Must be time for another Day in the Life post!

This time I didn't do the careful selection of a "good" day to write this post. Usually when it comes to DitL posts I gravitate to days that look like any other—they are filled with those perpetual chores and could pass for any given day, thus representing the whole at large, despite some weekly discrepancies.

Nope, this time I woke up, decided to keep the log, and away I went.

Willy-nilly fly by the seat of my pants! WhooOOOOooo!

Exciting, right?

I suppose what I'm saying is that this particular day is yes, a typical could-be-any-day day, but at the same time it's not one of the days when I get much done around the house. I barely sit down (except during my appointment or driving, it would seem) but there is barely any housework happening. Um... so I guess I'm saying it could be worse? Yeah...


Day In The Life - November 18, 2013

6:07 - Wake. Look at clock. Remember alarm goes off at 6:20 and berate myself for waking one minute earlier.

6:20 - Shut off alarm. Get out of bed. Wash, brush teeth, whip greasy hair into a braid to pretend it’s not wash day and I don’t get my shower until later.

6:36 - Chase Minette around in the dark because Mr Lannis is sleeping and she’s snuck into our bedroom when I opened the door—she’s used to not having him around after the week he was gone hunting.

6:40 - Turn on lights and unlock front door. Sort laundry (two loads). Boil kettle. Turn on laptop. Start tea.

7am - 7:50 - Feed cat. Dick around on Pinterest for 20 minutes (seriously, I’m never on there that early), then realize I’ve dicked around on Pinterest for 20 minutes and get to work. Empty dishwasher. Make kid lunches. Put away clean dishes from sink. Switch laundry loads.

7:50 - Remind cat I've fed her. Microwave rice heat bag. Pour tea. Grab banana. Give Lego Magazine subscription renewal card to R [almost 8 y/o], and have him put it by the door where we won’t shouldn’t forget to mail it today.

7:55 - Sit down on chair. Begin this list. Eat banana. Start writing grocery list, meal plan for the next week, and Mr Lannis’ Honey Do list (swag kitchen table’s light fixture; put up Christmas lights; drill new screws into two kitchen chair seats).

8am - Check email. RSVP to a birthday party for L [6.5 y/o]. Begin emailing auntie about the quandary of sewing project fabric accumulating. (Her organizational guess is as good as mine: I'm of the mind that it breeds on its own in the dark of the closet.)

8:20 - Daycare charge arrives. Boil kettle for oatmeal for three kids. Remind cat I've feed her (seriously, Minette! My swirling a finger in your food dish doesn't make it any fresher, but you seem to think so... WTF?).

8:25 - Get back to emailing my auntie on my lack of fabric organizing skills.

8:28 - Pour milk onto L’s cereal. Fill empty oatmeal bowls to soak. Pour more tea. Nuke rice bag again. Stare aggressively at a strange dude parked across the street—he’s just staring at our house, and I have too many kids kicking around to feel comfortable with some weirdo casing the joint and thinking he’s unnoticed. He drives away.

8:32 - Add to this list. Remember to hit send on email to auntie, as I’ve walked away from it three times. Send this link to Sandi at The Mrs as I’ve discovered we can’t even use the excuse of crappy Canadian climate to not grow veggies in the winter (some over-achieving Ontarian ruined that for us. Effing peachy).

8:38 - Import photos from camera (Mr Lannis’ hunting trip) and cell phone (our recent jaunt with Auntie Princess to Reptilia). Upload some pics to the photo processing website for pickup later today (R is going to do a mini-project about Mya the mango sprout, seeing how we already have the pics and dates, and his class is focusing on plants right now).

8:40 - Get sucked into Facebook (suck... face... heh). Upload pics. Tell kids to tidy up the toy area.

8:59 - 9:45 - Realize what time it is. Turn off heat. Hustle kids into outdoor gear, change into jeans. Dig through winter gear drawer to find the “perfect” toque for L (where is the toque? Why can’t they stay where they’re put? WTF is wrong with toques in this house?!). Put on my own coat/neck warmer/toque/boots/mitts combo, as well as L’s backpack. Hustle three kids outside and walk to school. Remember to mail Lego magazine subscription renewal card (it’s free! Check their website!). Meet my friend Miss B’s group walking to school and head there in a big group (seriously, nine kids and two adults kind of big). Drop off kids at school; check Lost and Found with Miss B (seriously, WTF is going on with the toques and how can they disappear?!), walk home.

9:45 - 10am - Put on kettle for mocha. Put away oatmeal, honey, tea, etc, and get out mocha fixings. Wash last night’s dinner pan left to soak. Put breakfast dishes into dishwasher and wipe table (how three kids manage to spread crumbs across six places is beyond me). Eat last of banana bread (forgot to feed myself oatmeal this morning with the kids). Lament that Mr Lannis is still sleeping, because I want to shower. Get out red vinyl tablecloth with white snowflakes (not exactly Christmas-y, but wintry decor, for sure). Mix mocha. Sit down and update this list, and check on pics uploaded to Facebook.

10:08 - 10:45 - Mr Lannis is up! Chat.

10:30 - Receive call from L’s teacher, re: volunteering tomorrow.

10:45 - Log into Blogger, realize I’ve scheduled that post for tomorrow, not today, and it doesn’t need to be posted to Facebook. Cool.

10:48 - Remember to tell Mr Lannis that his mom wants us to go to her place for dinner on Saturday. Dick around online some more.

10:55 - 12:20 - Shower. Wash hair. Blow dry hair (it’s winter weather in Canada, even without snow).  Dress. Rotate laundry loads. Grab materials, get in van, and head to an appointment. Discuss bidness. Text findings of meeting to Auntie Princess.

12:20 - 2pm - Run through Tim Horton’s drive thru for a muffin and a mocha because I’ve forgotten my lunch. Go shopping; grab a few items we need to tide us over until grocery day (Thursdays); and some items for R’s upcoming birthday party sleepover. Pick up developed photos at another place. Then get back into the van.

2pm - 2:15 - Drive to the post office to pick up a parcel. Wait in line. Wait... wait... wait... (Yay. They’re training someone. It’s my lucky day).

2:25 - 3:15 - Come home, unload van. Discuss appointment’s findings with Mr Lannis. Chat until it’s time to head to the school to get the kids. Call family doctor’s office, sit on hold for fifteen minutes while putting away shopping, eventually arrange appointment for next week. Get winter gear on (coat, neck warmer, toque, boots, mitts, sunglasses—yes, sunglasses) to walk to school.

3:15 - 4:15 - Meet Miss B and walk to the school together to pick up kids. Check lost and found again. Chat with parents in school yard. Pick up five kids and head home. Get mail (another parcel pick up notification).

4:15 - Turn on heat. Boil kettle for hot chocolate. Unpack kids’ lunches. Have kids put away their snow gear. Help R begin his plant project on our mango sprout. Fold laundry.

4:30 - First after school care charge is picked up. Chat with parent. Continue folding laundry and directing R in his schoolwork.

4:45 - Referee kidlets downstairs. Tears, aggressive behaviour, and a time out.

4:53 - Other parent arrives to pick up last two kids (uh, except mine). Discuss behaviour of one in time out. Purchase charity lottery ticket.

5pm - Start dinner. Pasta, sauce, and carrot sticks (Mr Lannis is on afternoon shift). Write out spelling word practice for two kidlets. Fill out paperwork for school. Listen to L ramble about books he wants from the Scholastic book order catalogue (no dice, dude).

5:30 - Cut onion and brown ground beef for slow cooker chili for tomorrow—I’ll be volunteering in L’s classroom and will appreciate dinner waiting for me. Eat standing up while prepping tomorrow’s dinner. Rinse dishes and load dishwasher. Partially prep school lunches for tomorrow (crackers in tubs; refillable drinking boxes filled and ready to go).

6pm - Help L [6.5 y/o] open a Playdoh container. Have the boys show me what they’ve made. Nuke rice heat bag. Fill my glass of water. Send boys upstairs to put away their laundry, then have them practice their spelling words. Check email. Debate buying this Lego Play Book from Book Depository. Reply to a friend on Goodreads. Pay gas bill. Fill out benefits reimbursement for Mr Lannis’ recent appointment.

6:40 - Have R tell me there’s cat puke upstairs. Whee...

6:44 - Ignore cat puke. Dick around online instead... online banking, checking blog stats (hey! New Google Salad entry: Kijiji troll bots), begin to transfer this post to blog (it begins life as a word processor document).

7:15 - Remind boys it’s almost time for bed, give the ten minute warning that tidy up time is approaching. Gather rice heat bags to nuke and put as warmers in their beds.

7:20 - Tell boys to settle down as they’re beginning to get rambunctious (read: annoying).

7:30 - Send boys up to put on PJs, brush teeth, and floss. Go upstairs, clean up cat puke. (Whee...). Wash my face, and brush hair and teeth. Set out boys’ clothes for school tomorrow. Set my own clothes in the second bedroom (Mr Lannis will be sleeping in. I hate afternoon shift). Remind Minette that I don’t want her sleeping on my clothes. Water upstairs plants.

7:45 - Story time. The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson.

8pm - Say goodnight to boys, return downstairs. Nuke my own rice heat bag (I perpetually sit on it all winter). Clear up any accumulated mess in the kitchen. Feed cat (yes, again). Dick around playing games on Facebook (Candy Crush and Farm Heroes Saga... yes, I have issues).

8:30 - Turn on TV (yes, first time today). Watch three episodes of The Mindy Project while hand sewing L’s monkey hat (the fleece lining has come apart again—the kid is so hard on things).

 9:45 - 10pm - Turn off TV, turn off lights. Shut down computer. Lock doors. Head upstairs. Brush teeth again with super-flouride-mega-ultra paste. Read a few pages of Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. Set alarm, and turn off light.

G'night.

It's only eight days...

Mr Lannis has stolen the firearms and run away to hide in some tree fort in Northern Ontario for a week.

He calls this hunting. ::snort::

Anyway...

Do you know what that means?

It’s PURGE TIME!

Yes.

You name it, it’s getting attacked. Closets, drawers, basement storage, everything.

I was into the Tupperware cupboards before he’d even walked out the door—all our containers and their matching lids were planted on the (now enormous) kitchen table, and anything without a match or if I couldn’t recall the last time it was used it went into the donation box.

Seconds after he left, I hit the fridge. This had me so giddy in anticipation that all morning I had butterflies flitting in my stomach...

No, really. Because lately Mr Lannis is on a no food waste campaign. And while I have no issues with such a campaign on principle (and truth be told it’s taught him how much he’s overloading the kids’ plates at dinner, so that’s been helpful), Mr Lannis is also wont to “experiment” with new condiments.

Bottles of which now line our fridge shelves.

Yep. But not anymore! /singsong

Whee!

So yeah, I get to play single parent for the week while he goes gallivanting off in the bush. It’s a fair trade because my vacation is JordanCon come the spring.

I could be looking at this week with dread—I’m the sole parent for what works out to be eight days all told... all tasks large and sundry are on my shoulders—but when I think about how I get to tear apart the house purging it of crap, ditch the nobody-cares-for-them-but-had-to-try-‘em-once condiments, and (here’s the best part) not pick up after another adult who’s perfectly capable of putting the oatmeal back in the cupboard after he’s finished with it?!

Yeah. Looking around this house, I know eight days is too short...

Lost Arts

There are a lot of, too many, a stupid number of things in this world that blow my mind.

Lately it’s that homemade Hallowe’en costumes appear to be a lost art.

And I’m not ragging on parents who work long hours and in the interests of allowing their child wear the costume of said child’s heart’s desire, run out and buy it...

No. I get that.

And I understand that (apparently) the ability to use a sewing machine is a skill dangling off the bottom of the home economics resume on both sides of the gender gap.

I also understand that for some people it’s worth their money and not their time when it comes to Hallowe’en—they’re pressed for time and would more willingly part with money than create a Hallowe’en costume from scratch, regardless of sewing ability involved.

To be absolutely clear: this is not a rant about people who buy their costumes.

This isn’t even a rant about how all holidays are becoming increasingly soaked in consumerism—every atypical square on the calendar seems to be another reason to buy things. Ugh.

This is, however, a post about the reaction we receive from our homemade costumes.

People are flabbergasted.

Like, completely floored.

Absolutely effing shocked that I made the costumes myself.

DID NOBODY ELSE GROW UP IN THE 80s?!

GAH!

This year my oldest wanted to be a chicken, and my youngest a Jedi knight.

I thought about what we already had in the house and cross-referenced it with what is easily found at second hand stores. There was a storm all up in this brain like no brainstorm ever before.

Thus, this year the Hallowe’en costumes here at Chez Lannis have been brought to us by an $8 Value Village ladies’ white hoodie, a pair of red jogging pants and three stained white T-shirts from our household rag bag, a plastic chicken mask left over from Princess’ wedding (as incongruous as that sounds), a lightsaber received one Christmas past, an old canvas belt, and the living room curtains.

Yes, the living room curtains.

Since I’ve painted the room, I’ve decided we didn’t need to put them back up. Which means I had six chocolate brown sun-bleached panels with nowhere to go... until this ulterior purpose arose.

So I bleached a couple of panels off-white, cream, a weird peachy colour. Using Mr Lannis’ karate gi as a model, I created a simple pair of glorified drawstring pyjamas for my little Jedi knight. Then I chopped a brown curtain panel in half, zipped a line up the back (so it was a giant hood) then cut two armholes at roughly shoulder height.

Jedi DONE!

For the chicken? That white secondhand hoodie got flipped inside out, and the red jogging pants were hacked and sewn into the shape of a chicken’s crown, stuffed with—yes—more red jogging pant material before being sewn onto the hood. The stained T-shirts were cut into rough wing shapes and hand sewn onto the hoodie’s sleeves before I cut them into long 2” strips that look suspiciously like feathers.

The handy dandy thing about t-shirt material: it doesn’t fray.

Chicken DONE!

Admittedly what sells the chicken costume is the latex beak mask, but that’s okay. And with his glasses, my oldest resembles Disney's Chicken Little more than a bit, to his dismay (he’s been given permission to go trick or treating sans glasses on All Hallow’s Eve).

And since we live in Canada, I ensured both costumes would fit over the boys’ coats.

Hallowe’en gets, er, chilly in these here parts.

The Jedi costume though... at our town’s local Hallowe’en shindig I had a woman ask if I had purchased my youngest’s costume online, because it resemble the one she knew to be $75.

SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS!

Now, I’m pretty frugal (that sounds better than cheap) but there’s no way I’d be spending $75 on my kid’s costume, even when I know since it’s a Jedi costume he’d want to wear it every chance he gets, all the time, day and night, let’s face it: whenever he’s breathing.

But just imagine the look on this lady’s face when I finally flagged down the six-year-old Jedi (who was busy flipping around on the grass, swinging that lightsaber for all he’s worth and making the appropriate vocal lightsaber sounds), to show her the curtain panel’s pockets, hidden on the inside hem of his dark robes.

Yes, lady. This costume cost me NIL.

And apparently it’s a lost art.

Good Food Box: Goodness me!

I adore our Good Food Box program. It's a foodshare program that helps the community in providing local farmers with business, and families with access to affordable fruit and vegetables.

And anyone can order a Good Food Box--it's not a program reserved for low income families. The whole point is to ensure everyone in the community has access to cheap healthy food.

(One of Mr Lannis' classic grocery rants is that it's cheaper to fill your cart with junk than with healthy alternatives. If I can record it, I will.)

Until recently, it'd been years since I've benefited from the program--you order your box in advance and go pick it up on a certain day. The last time I took part was ::coughcough:: umpteen years ago when I lived in university residence...

See? It's been a while.

Anyhow. Got on board last month in our new(ish) community, and when pickup day came around it felt like Christmas.

What comes in the box each month is a complete surprise until you pick it up...

Whee! <-- actual unfeigned glee.

Mr Lannis was far more enthusiastic for this endeavor after I tallied the contents of our $15 large box haul would cost us $34.20 at our favourite grocery store.

(Our box included a 10lb bag of potatoes, 4lbs of apples, 3lbs of pears, 2lbs of beets, 2lbs of onions, 3lbs of carrots, 2lbs of plums, a Romaine lettuce, a tub of mushrooms, a cauliflower, an English cucumber, uh... and I think that was it...)

And it's all as local as it can get--September and October being the best time of year to order the box as it's crammed full of in-season items... later in the year the produce just travels farther. Right about now it's all local and they're looking for places for it to go...

Anyhow, after writing that tally out and showing Mr Lannis the financial benefit of The Box, well, suddenly the inconvenience of ordering and picking up this box of produce was exciting to him, too... heh.

(I never quite understood his original lack-of-enthusiasm... since it would never be him in charge of order and pickup as it's exactly the kind of chore that falls under the category of sundry administrative items that occurs on my side of our partnership. But whatev.)

The thing about the Good Food Box, though, is that I always end up forcing us to eat a certain way in order to consume the box in its entirety before the next one arrives.

I'd forgotten this wonderful and frustrating fact.

And lately we've been in the habit of not eating potatoes. I know--weird, right?

Um. And beets. I can categorically say I've never purchased a bag of beets before.

But for the record, this hidden-beet red velvet bar recipe is not too shabby... heh. (Thanks, Dawn!)

Coded

Here at Chez Lannis, I control the administrative reins. As the one who stays at home, part of my daily whatnot is household management—including paying bills, filling cupboards, managing money, etc.

Yes, I am the one who decides whether we replace our hot water tank (or what have you), because I'm the one who has the best idea what we use and what type of appliance we require to meet our needs.

Unless you're a telemarketer, in which case (::clears throat::), "Sorry, I don't have clearance to make administrative decisions. And no, you can't speak to Mr Lannis, because we are a shift working household, which means if he's not at work, he's asleep. And if you wake him up with a ringing phone you'll never make your sale/promote that special offer/get us on board with whatever you're selling because he's a holy terror..."

(She says, invoking a mystique of fear about one of the mildest men she knows... ha!)

But yeah. Banking, utilities, email addresses, points programs, online shopping, any financial or social accounts we have, and I have their log in information on a sticky note in on the laptop, written in code that only I can decipher.

As in: Mr Lannis is shit out of luck if he tries.

Okay, that's not true—he could probably decipher it. Maybe.

Okay, maybe I've walked him through it a time or two, but the reality is when faced with the code @.Y, he'll truly have no idea what to put in a password field, nor will he know what requires upper case letters, whether that @ symbol is actually involved in the password, or remember what that @ was supposed to indicate at all...

Yeah. He's shit out of luck. I guess he'd better keep me around (heh).

I, on the other hand, am also out of luck.

Or I was, until I had the smarty pants idea to copy and paste the contents of that sticky note into an email and send it to myself—mostly because I'm paranoid our creeping-up-to-five-years-old-MacBook is about to junk it on us any minute...

So I'll still know how to access all our accounts.

Um. Unless I forget how to access my email by their actual log ins, instead of through the desktop POP Mail... hm...

::facepalm::

A Solution to Puzzles

Our kid cupboard is overflowing with boxes.

Toys, games, puzzles.

Generally I like to transfer toys with itty bits into a plastic tub with a lid and label it. Easy to sort, right?

Puzzles, though, they were driving me bugnuts--getting mixed together, the boxes jammed into the cupboard, refusing to compact.

They just take up space.

Then I had an idea:

Why P? For Peter Parker, of course! And because S was taken by the Star Wars puzzle...

So I had the kids put them all together to check for missing pieces, and then marked the back of the pieces with a letter to identify which puzzle it belonged to.

Then I put them in a dollar store pencil case and labelled it, cutting the picture of the finished puzzle out of the box to add to the bag.

Suddenly those puzzles weren't taking up as much space, the boys were proud of taking part in the organization, and I was smiling.

How do you keep your kids' toy cupboard in order? Any rearranging?

Six Uses for White Vinegar Around the House

I buy a lot of vinegar.

Like, grab-a-case-at-Costco-every-few-months-lot of vinegar.

We need so much because we don't only use it in the kitchen. It's incredibly cheap, non-toxic, and can be used in a multitude of ways around the house. I keep it under the sink in our master bathroom, and it's used so often in the laundry room that it never makes it back up onto the shelf.

What do I use it for? Plenty.

• A de-funk-ifiying laundry soak. Hot hot water + vinegar soak will get nasty smells out of clothes, towels, sheets, Mr Lannis' sweaty karate gi... everything. I pour a few cups in a basin of hot hot tap water (sorry, I don't measure), and toss in the item in question for a time... anything between ten minutes to overnight. Then I wash as per usual.

• Fabric softener for laundry. Yep, I pour it into the front load washer's softener slot, and I don't notice a difference over store bought. No, you can't smell it on your clothes. Yes, even my line-dried towels and jeans are not stiff, just as if as they were washed with store-bought softeners. And vinegar is very gentle on clothes and doesn't leave residue on your dryer's lint catcher (softener residue on a dryer's lint screen can cause house fires, by the way). What I appreciate most about white vinegar in the laundry is that my clothes smell nothing but clean—no overpowering floral perfumes masking anything. (Full disclosure: I'm allergic to perfume, so commercial fabric softener scents can be migraine triggers. Any reason to avoid that aisle at the grocery story and I'm golden. Keeping it from entering the house is a downright miracle blessed upon me by the white vinegar gods I now worship...)

• Glass cleaner. Added to a spray bottle with water in equal ratios, and it cleans my windows. Perhaps not as well as commercial cleaners, but guess what? My kids like washing my windows and I'm not going to be as worried if they accidentally spray themselves or anything other than the window's glass when it's simply vinegar and water in the bottle. If they waste it?—it's cheap. If they accidentally consume it?—it's non-toxic. If they leave streaks?—Meh, I have other priorities. (I also use old t-shirts, receiving blankets, or rags made of old sheets to scrub windows—no lint left behind.)

• Jewelry cleaner. A few tablespoons of hot kettle water and a good splash of vinegar will soften the grime off my wedding rings. I scrub them with a designated toothbrush and give them a quick rinse in regular tap water et voilà, those diamonds be sparkly again!

• Hair rinse: Every couple of weeks I'll put 1 cup vinegar with 1 cup hot tap water, and after shampooing I'll pour the mix over my hair and let it sit. After a few minutes of being careful not to let it leak into my eyes, I'll rinse it off, and follow with the tiniest bit of conditioner—quickly in and out, not letting it sit. The vinegar cuts all the build up residue out of my hair, and once dry it'll be super light and clean. My mother used to do this for my hair when I was little, and I've always had glossy, silky hair—I figure she must've been on to something.
• Weedkiller. Mixed with a touch of water and a tablespoon of dish soap, white vinegar is a non-selective herbicide. Wait until noon on a sunny day and spray the leaves of the offending plants... the sun and the vinegar will shrivel those plants in no time. Just cover anything you don't want to hit because you'll have nice circles of destruction on your lawn...

Believe it or not, I rarely have occasion to cook or eat white vinegar... the odd homemade salad dressing here at Chez Lannis is made with balsamic dressing. So for a house that quite literally buys vinegar by the gallon, I find it amusing that we're not ingesting it... ha!

Do you use vinegar around the house? Can you enlighten me on other uses?