Fab Food 4 Forty $

Can a grocery bill be limited to $40 a week?

I've been researching and reading different blogs trying to determine how other people accomplish this.  It's definitely possible, but a lot of what I read involves buying pre-packaged and reconstituted foods.  Eating Kraft dinner or using coupons to buy Sidekicks at a discount isn't that appealing to me.

It has been challenging to find people talking about their success with a $40 grocery bill and it NOT be processed foods.  So I'm curious.  Can I create healthy, unprocessed meals for 13 weeks without spending over $40 per week?

A lot of people suggest planning, couponing, and buying sale items only.  It makes a lot of sense.  If you go into the store with an idea of what you're buying and how much you'll spend, you're less likely to indulge in impulse shopping.

In addition to working with my budget, there are a few other reasons I'm taking up this challenge.  One is waste & indulgence.  I'm guilty of having great ideas at the grocery store and buying what I want, not necessarily keeping to what I need.  Sometimes that leads to food going bad and I have waste.  Having visited countries where people are literally starving, I'm not really proud of my behaviour.

By sticking to my budget, I can't act impulsively and pick up junk food just because I have a craving for it.  Hopefully this $40 diet helps me to accomplish my healthy living goals too.


Week 1 starts Monday.  Time to get busy planning with my apps Flipp (thanks, Wendy) and Paprika (thanks Paul & Melissa).  If anyone's curious about following along, I'll be updating throughout the challenge.  If you have tips or recipes to share, I'm all ears.  I've already received a few ideas (thanks, Erin) and I'd love to hear yours.

Eat Me

Before the movie starts, you're reminded to visit the concession stand and are bombarded with images of buttery popcorn and "refreshing" soda.  On the way home, there are billboards after billboards advertising food, restaurants, and beverages.  Watching TV or surfing the Internet will expose you to food marketing everywhere you turn.

Everything screams, "Eat Me!"

What I find comical about the whole business is that more times than not, they use slim and athletic models to advertise even the worst food offenders.  I mean, if the model ate what these companies are promoting on a regular basis, they wouldn't keep their jobs.

We are exposed to so much of propaganda is it any wonder that the Canadian Medical Association Journal estimates that by 2019, 21% of the population will be obese?  Not just overweight, but obese.

Canadians in the GTA are spending more and more of their time commuting for work.  When they get home, they're tired and hungry.  Convenience often spells disaster.  Reach for the pizza number and dial in an order, stop at Wendy's for a Baconator, or get a snack pack at Tim Hortons.

One of the biggest struggles I'm having with food is portion control and convenience.  I leave the house between 6:45 and 7am every day.  I'd estimate that 3 out of 7 days of the week, I don't get home until after 6:30pm.  I'm hungry and tired and I don't feel like cooking because if I do, I won't eat until 9pm or later.

To battle this, I've been trying to use my slow cooker and bbq more, but it's a work in progress.  Some days I win.  Some days my will power weakens and I hear the seductive siren call beckon...

"Eat Me"

No Regrets

I will when I'm older...

Not now, but some day...

I don't have the time right now, but when I do...


Maybe you've said similar things to yourself about things you'd like to do or accomplish in your life.  After all, the end is far off and we have lots of time to accomplish our dreams.  We're young and foolish with our whole lives stretched out before us.  Right?

That's what I thought too.

In 2007, I went on a Habitat trip to Zambia led by my youngest sister.  My mom, aunt, and friends made up the rest of the team.  The most exciting aspect of the trip, aside from the build itself, was supposed to be meeting up with my sister and mom who had just done 5 1/2 months around the world.  I didn't expect to come face to face with mortality.

Looking down the irrigation corridor

The first Saturday of the build, we were drawing water from the farm's well.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  One of the villagers gestured for me to go around the well to get to the other side.  She wanted me to go down the side of the irrigation corridor and come back up.  My mind registered what I thought was a concrete slab next to the water well covering the deepest point of the irrigation corridor.  Without questioning it, I stepped onto it, expecting to walk across to the other side.

It wasn't concrete...it was tin metal.  Not designed to hold human weight.

We're not exactly sure how far down I fell, but it was close to 15 feet (or a bit more?).  For a brief second, I caught the wall on the other side with one finger, but something told me to let go.  As soon as it happened, I knew I was toast.  Every regret and dream came to mind and I accepted they wasn't going to happen.  The next thing I knew, I was standing at the bottom of the hole trying to regain my breath.  I'd landed on the thick rubber hosing and somehow avoided the scary sheet metal and rebar sticking out from the wall. 

Beauty showing where I landed

To make a long story short, by some miracle I walked away from the accident.  No broken bones, no fractures, no stress fractures.  I had some excellent bruising and a new perspective on mortality.

Life isn't a guarantee.  We don't know how many years we have, how healthy we'll be during all of them, or what will happen next year, much less in the next minute.  The promise I made to myself that trip was that I wouldn't put off the dreams until later. 

We don't know how long we're on this earth.  It might be another 40 years, it might be another 40 minutes.  It's not how long we have.  It's what we do in the time that we do get that really matters.

There are things I want to achieve in life that are scary and daunting.  Every time I wonder if I should back down, I remember the promise I made to myself.

No Regrets.

Masturdating

Before you stare in shock and think I've just said something that isn't acceptable in polite conversation, relax.  You may not be familiar with the term, but masturdating refers to going out alone.  Going to a movie alone, dinner alone, a concert alone...you get the picture.

It's also something a lot of people aren't comfortable doing.  For those of us still riding the single train, it's a constant reality.  I fully admit I've done it.  Not just once, not twice, but countless times.  I refuse to miss out on the fun just because I'm solo.

This isn't a pity party and I'm not out for the "awwww" factor.  Instead, I want to draw attention to a topic that's not frequently talked about and some people think it's pathetic.  So did I at first.  Yes, I'd rather be doing these things with friends, family, or (gosh) a boyfriend, but you don't always get what you want.  I make the choice to go out anyways, regardless of what people may think about me.

Does it feel awkward saying "one, please" when the waiter asks how many for dinner?  You bet.  Do you feel like everyone's staring?  At first you do.  But here's the thing.  I could be at home, moping, or I could be out living life, regardless of my marital status.  I like the living part better!

My family and closest friends know that it has been a long time since my last relationship.  I am coming to a point where my grade 9 students have been alive longer than I've had a boyfriend (do they even call him that when you're 34?).  If I'd chosen to spend these past 13 years avoiding masturdating, I would have missed out on life.

 I'm still hopeful that a great guy is out there somewhere and we'll have moments together laughing about the crazy stuff we've done together.  I'll also be able to look back and know that even when he wasn't around, I was strong enough and determined enough not to let that get the best of me.

Until then, how many for dinner?

One, please.

Runner

Tough, lean bodies in tight-fitting workout gear and bright coloured sneakers.  A few have focused looks on their faces so intimidating, others veer off the path to make room.  Some of us openly want to be them, some of us loathe them, and some of us pretend to loathe while secretly wishing we too were a runner.

If you're at all overweight, the idea of running can be pretty terrifying.  It won't be a hard body with perfectly sculpted muscles and bouncy pony tales that blazes trails through the forest.  Instead, it may feel more like jello bouncing around in spandex sausage casings.  Even in private, the imagery is scary, but to take it on the road and showcase it to everyone?  I'm tempted to toss the sneakers into the closet and be done with it.

My experience with running has had its ups and downs.  In elementary school, our gym teacher pushed at everyone to join the cross-country and track teams.  I bowed to the pressure and started to run.  It hurt.  My lungs burned, my knees ached and sweat stung my eyes.  20+ years later, I still remember the pain.  I also remember the glory.  I remember beating out the fastest runner in our school during a 400m practice and feeling so proud!  I remember training for sprints at night on our court while my mom insisted on keeping a conversation going for safety as I ran around the trees and bushes (this was during Paul Bernardo days). 

Fast-forward 15 years and I signed up to train for my first 5km.  Most of it sucked, but there were 2 runs that kept me going: finishing the 5km race we trained for and during one of  the training runs.  Our local YMCA held the clinic and running down a local side street, I finally found that natural high that keeps runners coming back.  And then just as quickly, it was gone.

I longed to feel that again, running without pain and just enjoying every step.  My lungs finally working in tandem with my body.  So, stupidly, I signed up for half-marathon training.  I say stupidly because I wasn't in any condition to push for such a long distance.  I should have done more shorter races.  Weight had crept back onto my frame and I hadn't kept up with my running.  After each weekend training, I hurt so badly I couldn't contemplate running until the next weekend.  Walking was excruciating as my feet cramped and ached every time I put weight on them.  As the distance increased, so did the pain.  A week's recovery wasn't cutting it anymore.  After running a 12 mile route, my body threw in the towel.  I blew my ankle.  Angry and relieved, I walked (more like hobbled) away from running.

I didn't want to give up completely, so a couple years ago, I started out again.  I pushed to meet the 1 minute walk/1 minute run timings that everyone says should be the beginning.  The pain came back fast and I gave up.  Again.  Frustrated and annoyed, I said my goodbyes to running.

But the idea of running just wouldn't die.  Every so often I'd look up training calendars and wonder if I could get back into it again.  And every time I saw the programs I felt defeated because I knew my body couldn't handle it.  Overweight, damaged feet, and problematic knees won out against all the suggested training schedules. 

A few weeks ago I pulled out the running shoes to go for a walk.  That's all I intended it to be, but as I got closer to home, I decided to try a jog for a short time.  Hmmm, no pain.  Discomfort yes, as my body tried to coordinate itself and adjust to the new gait, but not painful.  So I made a decision:  Screw the  books, magazines, websites, and friendly advice.  It was time to do something I haven't done in a long time and listen to the one resource that made sense...my body.  If I wanted to run, it would be on my terms, not someone else's.

This morning I pulled out the work-out gear and dusted off the sneakers.  I put the timer on my phone, not as a restriction or goal, but rather to see how much I could handle today.  I walked when I wanted to walk, and jogged when I could handle it.  23 minutes later, I hadn't a clue what my ratio of walk to run was, or how far I'd gone.  It didn't matter that people saw me jiggling my way across the street or that I couldn't go for hours.  For those 23 minutes, I forgot about being judged and just enjoyed being a runner.

Outside Looking In

There's dust everywhere.  The bathroom needs cleaned, the kitchen needs a wipe down and things are scattered about.  It feels like being trapped in a small confined space with no solution to the clutter and dirt.  This is how my apartment has felt to me these past few weeks.

While my schedule isn't nearly as chaotic now as it was a month ago, I still find it hard to schedule in time to keep everything in pristine order.  I get so caught up in what's wrong with my home, I forget what's right with it.

Tonight is the first time in a long time that I have been able to sit outside and enjoy the twilight on my balcony.  Candles sit burning on the window sill and the dying light casts long shadows.  As the darkness sets in, I glance into my apartment though the balcony windows and it hits me...

Yes, the couch could use some tidying, but why hadn't I noticed how much I liked the colour?  Or how tall my money tree had grown?  The space looks so comfy and loved.  There are pillow and blankets strewn about invitingly and the bright colours from my hanging pot holders compliment my placemats.

My mind wanders on and I'm sitting here pondering, how much of this could we apply to ourselves?  We all know the common phrases like "you're your own worst critic".  We think poorly of ourselves and critically analyze everything that's wrong and imperfect.  How often do we consider the perspective of someone on the outside looking at us?  Would we have a different opinion?

To us, those wrinkles under our eyes are warning signs that aging is unavoidable, but a stranger may see the lines of decades of laughter.  We see our failures and inadequacies and friends remember times where we provided support and love.

Personally, I don't know that I will ever completely stop critiquing myself, but I hope I can remember to take time to consider what it's like to be on the outside looking in.  Others who look at us see love...we should too.

A Healthy Fridge

It is amazing how much junk can hide in the fridge and I am not just talking about sticky surfaces, decomposing onion peels, and forgotten condiments.  I'm talking about the kinds of foods that have artificial sweeteners, chemicals we can't pronounce and impossibly long expiration dates.

With the arrival of spring and the promise of summer, it felt amazing today to clear out the clutter and get back to basics.  For me, that includes free run eggs, yogurt, hummus, fresh cheese and loads of fresh fruits and veggies.

There is still room for improvement and growth.  Making my own hummus, for example.  These things will come in time, but it's a good start for now.

If you're looking to update the contents of your fridge, or just get into eating more healthily, there are a lot of good blogs and websites that can start you off.   RealSimple.com has a guide on stocking a healthy refridgerator, and the Food Network's Healthy Eats blog talks about what to stock and what to skip

If you're looking to cut down on pop, but want something other than plain water, try cutting up thin slices of cucumbers or lemons and adding them to water or plain club soda.

My favourite find so far has been Pink Muscat grapes.  Green grapes can be a bit sour and red ones not as sweet.  These grapes have the best of both worlds and are easy to find in Longo's, or Fortinos at this time of the year.