Successful ‘Summer Manifesto’ returns to help us savor simple pleasures

As I was tucking our 5-year-old son into bed a few nights ago, he looked me squarely in the eyes and declared, “Mom, we need to make our summer list. When will we do it?” Before I could answer him, he announced, “We never had balloons on a picnic last year, so we need to put that on our list. And camping should be on the list, too.” He rattled off a few more ideas as I tried to slip out the door.

It surprised me that the boy who can never remember where his dirty socks go should so passionately recall last year’s summer list, which we dubbed our “Summer Manifesto.” What began as simple way to ensure we were making the most of our summer months has already become a fixture in our household. Clearly, our children were invested in last year’s list and already have very specific ideas about ways to spend our time this summer.

After a little family brainstorming, we decided we’ll repeat some of last year’s highlights: having a water gun fight, flying kites, grilling peaches, roasting marshmallows in the our fire pit and going to the lake. We’ll also tackle a few activities that we didn’t manage to accomplish last year. Namely, camping in the back yard and making red popsicles. Along with these activities, we’ve added some new ones to our summer list.

At the top of my husband’s summer priorities is building a playhouse for our children. Though it’s a major undertaking that will require a significant amount of time and energy to complete, he’s anxious to start the project. He’s been gathering supplies reclaimed from various sources and has already been “building the structure in his mind.” While he’s thinking about building the structure, I’m dreaming about what color to paint the shutters on the playhouse and how wide to make the front porch.

Not surprisingly, playhouse chatter has been contagious, and our oldest daughter is already dreaming about a space to host sleepovers and make mud pies. A water balloon fight, an afternoon family hike, and oddly enough, gathering turkey feathers are her other contributions to the summer list.

Of course, we’ve added “balloons on a picnic” for our 5-year-old and “catch things with our butterfly nets.” (He’s hoping to net himself a bird.) Riding bikes, getting the privilege of staying with Grandma and Grandpa (where he wants to take a dip in the city pool) and gathering firewood are our 3-year-old’s contributions to the list.

My own summer aspirations center on learning a few new skills. I hope to make my own chamomile tea, become more adept at succession planting, and learn how to prepare fried zucchini blossoms. I’d also like to hunt for wild mushrooms and can my own applesauce, neither of which I have done before.

Like last year, our list largely involves simple pleasures that we can experience together and that cost very little. By declaring what we hope to do this summer, and posting our list in place where we see it often, we can be intentional with our time and money. Plus, doing things like hiking together and hanging around our back yard fire pit create a vacation-like feeling without us ever having to venture far from home.

Make the most of your summer by taking the time to make your own list, either on your own or with your family. You’ll be surprised to find how quickly you start realigning your priorities so that you can accomplish what’s on your list. And in the process, you’ll make many sweet summer memories.

Kitchen vigilante wages war against wasting food, money

Some recent number crunching confirmed my nagging suspicion: we are once again breaking our monthly food budget. In fact, a closer look revealed that our spending has gone up incrementally during the first four months of this year.

On one hand, hearing my husband rattle off those numbers made me cringe. On the other, it reaffirmed that I want to be more diligent than ever about avoiding food waste. After all, if I suggested you withdraw $100 in small bills from your bank account and drop them one by one into the trash, you’d think I’d lost my mind. Yet when we waste food, that’s essentially what we’re doing.

Avoiding food waste lets me be a good manager of what I have and helps save me money. Still, little to no food waste is only possible with a lot of diligence and creativity. So I am publicly declaring myself as a kitchen vigilante with this pledge: I will do all within my power to ensure I use the food I have. I will not be deterred by the likes of stale bread or languishing apples. I will resourcefully repurpose the food in my kitchen to create delicious and satisfying meals.

You might be wondering if the words “delicious and satisfying” can rest comfortably alongside “resourcefully repurpose.” Can using up bits of leftovers and past-its-prime food actually result in something worth preparing—and more importantly—eating? I believe the answer is unequivocally “yes.”

With a little practice, you can transform all of your kitchen bits into something better. A good place to start is by learning the many uses for stale bread. Who hasn’t had slices of bread or bagels that have lingered a bit too long?

Bread crumbs, croutons and stuffing are all common uses for stale bread. I’m much more likely to cube it and throw it in a freezer bag to use for dishes sweet and savory: egg strata, baked French toast, or bread pudding. A strata is particularly good use for old bread, and you can toss in other foods you need to use up, as well. Leftover vegetables, small amounts of meat, and a variety of cheeses are all good compliments to strata.

Fresh produce is another kitchen staple that seems to spoil faster than I can use it. I’ve gotten in the habit of freezing overripe bananas in their skins for smoothies, breads, and muffins. If berries get mushy, I throw them in the freezer, too, or I use them to make syrup for pancakes or waffles. Grapes that have softened can be frozen and used for snacks. We’ve also been known to grate mealy apples for muffins, pancakes, and oatmeal or to sauté slices with a little butter and brown sugar for a tasty side dish.

Soured milk generally works well as a replacement for buttermilk in baked goods such as pancakes and biscuits. Single servings of yogurt that are approaching their expiration dates can be thrown into the freezer and eaten later; the result is similar to sorbet. Leftover rice can be used in soups, to make fried rice or for rice pudding. Small servings of pasta can be used in frittatas, while the extra spaghetti you have hanging around in the fridge can be reinvented into a baked dish; just add ingredients such as cured meat, sun-dried tomatoes and a strong cheese, like fresh parmesan.

With some creativity, nearly any food you have on hand (unless it has spoiled) can be transformed into a recipe that will make you wonder why you ever thought of throwing that food away in the first place.

Life’s messy, risky adventures can bring great satisfaction

Drippy snow cones, unwieldy light sabers and crowds of people aren’t exactly a prescription for a parent’s happiness. But it’s a gleeful combination if you’re a kid at the circus.

Our 3- and 5-year-old boys waved those light sabers with wild abandon, and our 6-year-old joyfully wore remnants of a sticky snow cone from her neck all the way down to her toes. Even our youngest babe watched dancing dogs and horses with rapt attention, jabbering about the raucous display in front of her.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to sitting through the two-hour show with four small children. In fact, I would have rather been at home, where there was at least the possibility of relative quiet. But had we stayed home, I would have missed the gleam in my children’s eyes as they took in the high wire act or each relished having a snow cone all to themselves.

There’s no question that the circus is messy. But being afraid of life’s messes and clinging to the safety of the ordinary can deprive us of some of life’s best moments. The point of stagnation, when we aren’t willing to embrace new and unfamiliar experiences, can be a major roadblock to happiness.

I find positive change often happens when I’m a little uncomfortable and when I’m willing to take a risk. Sure, there have been many times when I literally don’t have a clue what I’m doing, like when I decided to take a solo (and somewhat impromptu) backpacking trip to Europe. I’d never been outside the country, but when the opportunity to travel abroad presented itself, I took a leap.


I’ll never forget sitting in London’s Heathrow Airport, staring at the ticket desk and wondering if I should just purchase a return ticket and go home. Despite my fear (and not having a single plan made), I stayed for the entire month and trekked across three countries. I made new friends, saw some of the most amazing sites of my life, and learned a tremendous amount about myself and my abilities.

I’ve experienced the same kind of satisfaction from doing something as simple as planting my first garden. I’d never grown a single thing before that first venture, but that year, I ended up with a bountiful harvest and a new passion for cultivating the earth that has stuck with me ever since.

I even count learning how to make my own hamburger buns as a rewarding experience. Homemade buns aren’t a revolutionary idea, but this small kitchen success has buoyed my confidence and encouraged me to make more food from scratch. My family eats better food, and we save money in the process.

Even if you can’t plunge head-long into a new adventure right now, you can tackle a small hill - even a hill as small as making homemade buns. That adventure may not turn out quite as you had planned. But this doesn’t mean that the unexpected (and often messy) moments aren’t worthwhile. In fact, they often end up being the very best moments of your life. What small hill can you tackle today?

A simple plan cuts the cost of wasted food

For the past two weeks, I’ve been staring down a small container of cherry tomatoes. They haven’t spoiled, but they are definitely past their prime. I don’t want to throw them away, but a dozen lackluster tomatoes aren’t inspiring my inner chef. Plus, I feel a twinge of guilt when I think about wasting food, particularly when we devote such a large portion of our budget to feeding our family.

Having a trio of backyard chickens has made it possible to redeem almost all of our kitchen scraps, and I work hard to use up the food we have. Still, I know I could do better with things like the aforementioned languishing cherry tomatoes. I’ve even been known to avoid opening food storage containers in my refrigerator because I’m afraid of what might be lurking inside.

What’s even more frightening than unearthing furry food is the cost of wasting it. According to the USDA, Americans throw away about 14% of the food they buy; some other independent estimates put that amount closer to 25%. If my family’s experience rings true—even to the more modest estimate—we’re literally throwing away $70 every month, or $840 a year.

I could think of a lot of ways I’d like to spend $840 this year—but wasted food doesn’t make the list. Becoming more intentional with my food dollars and my cooking habits will help ensure that more food gets used, and less is discarded. There’s nothing revolutionary about the plan I’ve sketched out for my family, but it will help me make the most of what I have.

First, I will recommit to creating a weekly meal plan and writing it on the family calendar. Doing so allows me to take stock of ingredients I already have, and plan meals accordingly. (Plus, a meal plan avoids “what’s for dinner?” tension at the end of the day.) For example, I have some small pieces of ham and a bunch of boiled eggs leftover from Easter, so I’ll prepare a chef salad. I also have a large tub of ricotta cheese (and those leftover tomatoes) lingering in my fridge; I’ll put both to use in lasagna.

Second, I want to have a specific purpose in mind for everything I buy. Contrary to traditional budgeting advice, I don’t shop with a strict list. My grocery list includes staple items I need, such as spices and baking ingredients. Otherwise, I shop for what looks good at the best price. Last time I went shopping, for instance, organic beef was on sale for half price. I hadn’t planned to buy beef that day, but I scooped up the last four packages, knowing that I could freeze it or use it to make sloppy joes and taco pizza.

Designating a specific spot for leftovers in the refrigerator is another easy-to-implement strategy that I’ll employ. If I know that all leftovers are on the top, right-hand shelf, then I’ll be able to look past the tubs of homemade playdough and the cartons of eggs to see what we need to eat first.

Lastly, I want to find more uses for leftovers and food past its prime. I’ve always thrown away broccoli stalks, but I know they’re suitable for stir frying, soups, and frittatas; I just need to get in the habit of using them. Carrot and onion peels, wilted celery ribs and other vegetable miscellany will be put to use in homemade broths, rather than going to the chickens.

This plan will take effort, but I’m looking forward to less spoiled food, less cherry tomato guilt, and to stretching my food dollars further.

Groans of regret echo long after impulse purchases are made

Somehow, we’d managed to stuff a live Christmas tree, a large dog kennel, and all of our luggage in our small, two-door sedan. Getting stuck in our driveway when we arrived home from our trip, however, became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

I don’t remember who made the pronouncement that “we need a bigger, four-wheel drive vehicle,” but one of us did. We found ourselves cruising through car lots the next day. If I remember correctly, we test-drove three vehicles. A few hours later, we were signing the loan papers on a new-to-us SUV.

Though we drove away congratulating ourselves on the new purchase, it didn’t take long for a wave of regret to roll over us. We had been just a few payments away from paying off our sedan. Now, we had a loan for a gas guzzler with an unknown history and high miles. What’s more, we’d gotten a pittance on our trade-in, and because we didn’t shop around, we didn’t really know if we’d gotten a good deal on our new car.

We drove the vehicle for several years, but always with a lingering taste of regret. Interestingly, the word regret literally means, “to groan long after.” For anyone who has regretted making a particular purchase, “to groan long after” is a fitting definition.

In fact, when I asked friends and acquaintances to tell me about the purchases they most regret making, it was almost as if they let out a collective groan. One friend that told me that she regretted the $1,200 vacuum she bought from a very convincing in-home salesman. She even went so far to say, “I hated that vacuum every day it took to pay it off and until the day I sold it.”

Garish wallpaper (that took a great effort to hang and therefore stayed up for a long time), an oversize leather coat, a pricey engagement ring, a used car bought out of frustration, an expensive purse, and a collection of other, smaller buys made the list.

My favorite response came from a friend who bought an expensive aromatherapy wrap from a slick salesman. She recalls, “The last thing I remember hearing was, ‘Hey, pretty lady.’ The next sound I heard was the register dinging. I had immediate buyer’s remorse.”

For all the responses I received, one major theme emerged. The purchases that most often lead to “long groaning” are those bought on impulse. This applies to purchases big and small, on everything from the shirt that didn’t quite fit right to the $8,000 piece of jewelry. Even so-called bargains can lead to regret when you buy them impulsively.

We’ve all made impulsive purchases. But the best way to prevent ourselves from getting caught up in a cycle of impulse buying is to create a filter that we can hold up to anything we might want to buy. The most basic question should be this: Will it make my life better? If it will, and you can afford it, then go ahead and make the purchase.

Next, ask yourself, “Is it fabulous?” Too often, we end up buying things because they’re on sale or because they’re so inexpensive that we think we can’t possibly pass them up. The result is that we end up with a bunch of things that we only marginally like and that clutter our closets and all the recesses of our homes.

If it won’t make your life better and you can’t honestly say that it’s “fabulous,” then you’d be better off leaving it at the store (or on the table at someone’s garage sale).