In my pursuit of frugal utopia, I’ve started to realize that the price I pay for an item at the register doesn’t always reflect its true cost. Take milk for example. If someone had asked me a few weeks ago how much a gallon of milk costs, I might have said, “about $4.” But now that I’ve given it some thought, I see that $4 is the wrong answer. A host of other factors have to be considered when determining the real cost of a gallon of grocery store milk.
First, there’s the opportunity cost. To get the milk, I have to drive my car to the grocery store, find a parking spot, navigate the metal cart through the crowded aisles, wait in line at the register, tell my son “no” to the half dozen items he will beg me to buy, push the cart across the parking lot to my car while trying to keep my son from running off, load up the groceries, drive home, unload. This is one of my most hated chores and it takes an hour or two of prime weekend time. If I didn’t have to go to the store for the milk, I could be using that time to do something I enjoy. So, for me, there is a big opportunity cost attached to that gallon of grocery store milk.
Second, are the costs to the environment that don’t show up in the dollars I pay at the cash register: the pollution wrought by commercial dairy practices; the diesel fuel burned to move the milk across the country to my grocery store; the noxious chemicals used to create the molded plastic container that my milk is shipped in; the energy spent to deal with my discarded milk carton which will be picked up by a garbage truck, carted to a transfer station, put on a barge, taken out to the middle of the ocean, and dumped. When you consider those costs, it makes my glass of grocery store milk a lot more expensive.
Third, are the costs to my family’s health. Many commercial dairy farms think of animals as machines that can be turbo-charged to produce more. The pixie dust they use to shift their cow-machines into overdrive is called Bovine Growth Hormone (BGH). It’s a synthetic hormone that forces the cows’ bodies to produce more milk than is healthy for them. This puts enormous physical strain on the cow, which leads to infection which is then treated with antibiotics. The hormones and antibiotics get in the milk and end up in our bodies. Consumption of milk laced with hormones has been linked to cancer. Canada and the EU have banned BGH because of the significant health risks, but the FDA has not. So chances are good that it’s in my gallon of grocery store milk, and there is also a chance that consuming it could contribute to a life-threatening illness like cancer. If you factor in the health costs, the milk becomes prohibitively expensive. Can you even put a price on health?
Finally, there is the quality of the product itself. The milk in the plastic, or waxy cardboard container isn’t very fresh; wasn’t produced by well-tended cows; and is bland, and vaguely plastic tasting. So for all the effort, cost to the environment, and risk to my health, I’m not even getting a very delicious glass of milk.
But there is a solution – the milkman. I met Tom during a Saturday visit to the farmer’s market. His booth featured local milk in beautiful glass bottles. As I stood there wanting to buy the milk, but thinking about how heavy the glass bottles must be, and if I bought them, I’d have to bring them back the next week, and so buying the milk would mean that every Saturday morning I would have to get in my car and drive to the farmer’s market to exchange my empties for full bottles of milk. As I was wrestling with this in my mind – thinking about the hassle, but still wanting to buy the milk – Tom said, “We deliver you know.”
It took a moment for me to process the implications.
“We also deliver eggs, cheese, butter, and other local farm products,” Tom added. It was one of those moments where the clouds open up and a beam of sunshine emerges.
“You deliver,” I said, not fully believing it. “To my doorstep?”
“Every Wednesday morning,” Tom said, and he gave me the website address for his company, The Hudson Milk Co.. I went home and promptly signed up for my first delivery.
Now every Tuesday night I put a cooler on my front porch with empty glass milk bottles and on Wednesday morning it’s magically filled (Tom delivers at 4:00 in the morning) with farm-fresh milk, cream, eggs, and cheese. The milk has no BGH so it’s healthier for my family. It comes from a local farm, so it hasn’t been shipped thousands of miles creating a monstrous carbon footprint. The pretty glass bottles get reused, unlike their plastic counterparts that end up floating (forever polluting) the oceans. I don’t have to go to the grocery store as often, and when I do, it’s just to pick up a few things. It’s no longer an epic chore. And best of all – the milk is fresh and it tastes great! It costs a few dollars more, but if you factor in the other costs–opportunity costs, health costs, environmental costs–it ends up being the cheapest milk you can buy — and the most delicious!
If you live in Westchester, NY you can ask Tom to bring fresh milk to your doorstep too. Tell him I sent you.
“To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves.” – Mohandas K. Gandhi
For mother’s day, my husband and son built a small garden for me. I’d seen videos like this one, about depression-era victory gardens and I wanted one of my own.
So Mike and Aidan built a small garden bed and I planted rosemary, thyme, basil, parsley, broccoli, swiss chard, lettuce, yellow squash, zuccinni, cucumbers, eggplant, and pumpkin. Yep, all that in a 5′ x 6′ plot. And yep, I don’t know what I’m doing.
In spite of my lack of skills, the garden grew beautifully.
I’ve got three good reasons to be proud of my garden. First, the garden is economical. A packet of seeds costs about $2.50 and and I get about $10.00 worth of produce out of each packet.
Second, the garden is good for the planet. No fossil fuels were used to harvest, ship, or sell this produce. I simply walk out my back door with my kitchen scissors and “snip,” I’ve got veggies for dinner.
But the biggest bonus is the sheer pleasure of growing my own food. I had no idea it would be so much fun. The feeling of accomplishment when I harvested the garden’s first yellow squash defies description. I stir-fried it with garlic, butter, basil, and thyme and served it with angel hair pasta. Yum.
So, if you’ve got a backyard, plant a veggie garden. If you live in an apartment, put a pot of basil on your sunniest windowsill. It will be worth it. Trust me.
If you’ve ever fixed anything yourself, you are familiar with the unique thrill–the feeling of pure elation that washes over you when you outsmart the forces of entropy. Those of us who know that feeling will understand the heroic (and hilarious) beauty of this website: thereifixedit.com
What does the recession (ephemistically referred to as “the current financial crisis”) have to do with Independence Day? First read this: The Great American Bubble Machine then come back here so we can discuss.
As Matt Taibbi’s article points out, the problems in our banking system aren’t anything new. In fact, the system has been corrupt since…the beginning. Andrew Jackson said this about it: “If the people only understood the rank injustice of our Money and Banking system, there would be a revolution before morning.”
Now consider the origins of our July 4th holiday. One of the biggest problems the colonists had with the King was that he taxed them excessively and didn’t give them any say in how that tax money was spent. In 1773 they dressed up in disguises and dumped over-taxed imported goods (tea) into Boston harbor. That touched off the Revolutionary War which ended in the birth of our nation. Of course, the war was about more than just money, but my point is that Boston Tea Party was to the Revolutionary War what Rosa Parks was to the Civil Rights movement. Someone finally did what everyone else had been afraid to do, and that ignited the courage and resolve of the less bold.
So this 4th of July I’m looking for, hoping for, a hero who confronts the economic tyranny we are under. But I don’t see any heros on the horizon. The new government hasn’t done anything to hold banks accountable for their monumental swindle mistake. The previous administration did even less. Maybe we need a grass roots movement? But short of pulling our money out of the banks and stuffing it in our mattresses, what can we do? I’ve been writing this blog thinking that the little things would be enough. That if we could learn to consume less, then our greed would atrophy and our culture would shift its focus. But when I think about the enormity of the problem and the powerlessness of “ordinary people” like me, I get overwhelmed and discouraged.
I know this sounds boring and kind of depressing, but that’s what I’m thinking about on this July 4th – economic freedom – how do we get it? I’ll take heart by reminding myself that against the odds the founders of our country declared their independence from tyranny, won that independence, and started a new kind of nation.
We need a new declaration of economic independence. Anyone have ideas?
I have a difficult time remembering important events like birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries. It’s a failing that bothers me greatly and probably bothers the people who are important to me even more. And it’s not just carelessness. I’m convinced that in this one area I have a yet-to-be diagnosed dyslexia–a simple failing of normal brain function, nothing personal.
Take my sister’s birthday for example–it’s today, and it’s not like I forgot about it. Not exactly. Back at the beginning of June I thought, “Oh, it’s June. Lesley’s birthday is at the end of the month.” Then later in the month I thought about it again. “Hmm, I should get a card.” I looked over the paper cards at CVS. Dismayed at the cheesiness of all of them, I decided to look again at a different store, which I never remembered to do. Anyway, today I woke up and thought, “Yikes, it’s the 28th and I never sent a card.” So I decided to look for an e-card (what else could I do?)
The last time I sent an e-card was for my mother’s birthday (which I forgot about entirely. Yes, I know, very bad daughter.) Anyway, it took me a long time to find a decent e-card because I had this idea that e-cards should be free. After a long search, I found a good one, but it wasn’t entirely free. Sending that “free” e-card signed me up for a relentless and impossible to get rid of mailing list that still plagues me twice a week.
So this morning I relented and took a look at the premium Hallmark e-cards. I was surprised and excited to find tons of stuff that I liked. Unlike the dismal sentiments paper cards proffer (they range from mildly offensive humor to sickly sweet poetry), the e-cards offered something more contemporary and relevant. They are funny yet tasteful, and they are extremely entertaining. After browsing their offerings, I concluded that e-cards had gotten better, much better, than paper cards. So I signed up for a one-year subscription. For only $9.99 I can send as many e-cards as I want. This is an amazing savings since nowadays, a nice paper card costs about $4.00, and a really nice card can cost as much at $7.00.
But the biggest benefit for me isn’t the cost savings, it’s this little gem:
Hallmark's e-card organizer
The Hallmark online organizer REMINDS me when birthdays occur. Never again will I have to suffer the embarrassment, the guilt, the shame caused by improper brain function (which I’ve been calling “important-day dyslexia”). Hallmark e-cards are going to do more than just provide me with fun, affordable, convenient cards–they are going to save me from myself!
As a commercial holiday, Father’s Day runs a distant second to Mother’s Day. Americans spend less on dad, and this year spending is down even more. But what does that mean? Do we spend less because we appreciate dad’s contributions less? Does mom get more because we think that she gives more? In my Rethinking Mother’s Day post, I looked at how Mother’s Day gets mom wrong and it seems only fair to do the same for dad.
The media tends to portray fathers as bumblers in the domestic sphere (Ray Romano), or as sexist buffoons declaring domestic chores to be “woman’s work,” (Archie Bunker), or as hyper-successful patriarchs, too busy with “important stuff” to do much around the house (JR Ewing, Tony Soprano). Except for grilling meat on the barbecue, men seem doomed by our collective expectations, to feel conflicted about participating in day-to-day home life. This is bad for everyone, especially kids. Read the rest of this entry »
When I ditched TV ten years ago, it wasn’t for moral reasons. It wasn’t because I was worried that TV was rotting my brain, and it wasn’t because I couldn’t afford the cable bills. It was, purely and simply, a time-management decision. I never would have gotten through grad school if I had continued wasting spending 3 or 4 hours a day in front of the tube. But it took me awhile to pull the plug because I honestly believed that I loved TV. As a latchkey kid, I’d grown up with television, logging 25+ hours a week. The television was a pseudo parent and friend. Even after ten years of living television-free, I still can’t ignore it. If a TV is turned on anywhere near me, I am helplessly drawn to it.
So, when I canceled our cable account, I braced myself for a long painful withdrawl process. Read the rest of this entry »
This is just a short post to remind you that today isn’t just an extra day off to relax, picnic, and barbecue; it’s a day for thinking about and remembering how real people (not abstract monuments) have spent themselves in our nation’s wars. The point of today is not to glorify war, but to become more mindful us of its costs–lives cut short, families devastated, and in some cases whole generations disrupted.
I’m taking some time today to meditate on the sorrow and the sacrifice, to think about members of my community who have died in recent wars, and to hope for an end to our current conflicts.
The grass may be greener on the other side of the fence but you still have to mow it. – Proverb
When I moved into my house last August, the yard was mostly dirt, weeds and moss. At the time I was so overwhelmed by the work of owning an old house, that I thought, “good” moss and dirt are low maintenance. I’ll worry about it next spring.
When next spring came, I bought a big bag of grass seed, tossed it on the barren ground, sprayed it with water and hoped for the best. I was pretty sure nothing would grow. Somewhere I got the idea that grass was really really hard to cultivate. But, amazingly, it grew. And grew and grew. Now we needed a lawnmower.
This may not seem like a big deal to those of you who have been mowing since high school, but owning a lawnmower is a jarring rite of passage for former apartment dwellers. For my entire adult life I’ve avoided owning the fleet of lawn care machinery my suburban parents did battle with. Lawn mowing always seemed like an unpleasant, loud, polluting, dangerous chore, and the tool one used for it (the lawnmower) was an expensive, cumbersome piece of equipment that wouldn’t fit in our extremely narrow one-car garage. Moreover, I dreaded the effect it would have on my five year old. He can’t keep away from anything noisy and mechanical, so I was sure I’d be yelling myself horse warning him away from the deadly, spinning blades.
Enter the old-fashioned rotary mower. The Scotts push reel mower we bought was a hundred dollars cheaper then the least-expensive gas-powered or electric mower and it fit in our tiny garage! We brought it home from the hardware store and my husband assembled it in under ten minutes. It was whisper-quiet and it cut the grass beautifully, but there was an even bigger benefit that I hadn’t anticipated. My son wanted to help, and it seemed safe enough to let him. Supervised by my husband, he pushed the mower and called out, “This is so fun, mom! I want to do this every weekend.”
The frugality movement is about more than just saving money, it’s about rethinking our consumer culture. Since today is Mother’s Day, I thought I would take a moment to consider how we celebrate mom.
According to the National Retail Federation, Americans will spend an an estimated $14.10 billion on Mother’s Day cards and gifts. Clearly, Mother’s Day is a phenomenally successful commercial holiday, but more than the money spent on cards and gifts, the lamentable thing about Mother’s Day is the canned, sentimental, idealized, gooey portrayal of mothers themselves. That’s why I offer this Pink Floyd video for your consideration.
It’s the opposite of a Hallmark card and, I know this sounds strange, but I think it gets to the bottom of what mothers really are–larger-then-life figures in their children’s consciouness and counterpoints to humankind’s destructive efforts. Pink Floyd’s “Mother” explores the richness and complexity of this primary relationship. The song reveals the push-pull, the vulnerability and the defiance, the fierce energy of our connection to mother, and the deep melancholy over the fraught nature of that connection.
When I consider my relationship with my mother and with my son, this vision of motherhood feels more authentic and, oddly enough, more inspiring than the media portrayal of mothers as long-suffering saints or always-cuddly pets. Motherhood isn’t about how closely we match a commercial ideal, but how deeply and ferociously we love. So on this frugal Mother’s Day, I’m rethinking what motherhood means. I’ve decided to embrace the complexity and the chaos, and I’ve recommitted myself to doing motherly battle with the forces of destruction.
For Mother’s Day, I’m not getting flowers, candy, or jewelry. My husband and son are outside in the yard as I write this, building me a victory garden.
In my pursuit of frugal utopia, I’ve started to realize that the price I pay for an item at the register doesn’t always reflect its true cost. Take milk for example. If someone had asked me a few weeks ago how much a gallon of milk costs, I might have said, “about $4.” But now that I’ve given it some thought, I see that $4 is the wrong answer. A host of other factors have to be considered when determining the real cost of a gallon of grocery store milk.
When I moved into my house last August, the yard was mostly dirt, weeds and moss. At the time I was so overwhelmed by the work of owning an old house, that I thought, “good” moss and dirt are low maintenance. I’ll worry about it next spring. 
we bought was a hundred dollars cheaper then the least-expensive gas-powered or electric mower and it fit in our tiny garage! We brought it home from the hardware store and my husband assembled it in under ten minutes. It was whisper-quiet and it cut the grass beautifully, but there was an even bigger benefit that I hadn’t anticipated. My son wanted to help, and it seemed safe enough to let him. Supervised by my husband, he pushed the mower and called out, “This is so fun, mom! I want to do this every weekend.”