Debt Confessional // Our Progress (or Lack Thereof)

Remember when I told you guys how we’re carrying $34K (not including our house) in debt? Yeah. Not much has changed since I last wrote. We did go full steam paying all extra money we had toward this number for a few months. Then we fell off the wagon. We had to buy a new washer and dryer. Our car needed new tires. You know, stuff happens. So, while I don’t have the exact number . . . we haven’t made a ton of progress in this department.

As you remember, without aggressively paying down the debt (paying only minimums), we’d be paying bills for the next 78 months or -- gasp -- 6.5 years. If we allocated all my freelance income plus the minimums, we had the potential to be debt free in just 15 months. Fifteen glorious months that would we would have already been six months into paying.

Nope.

Here’s the problem -- that plan was too aggressive for us. My freelance income isn’t always steady. Emergencies come up. And -- yes -- weakness does set in even if you have the best of plans. I think the new debt plan will have to be a mix of pay more when we can, pay less when we’re dealing with other financial stuff. (Like summers! How did I not plan for summers with no paychecks?! Fail.).

I’m interested in those of you who have followed the snowball debt repayment -- did you really deplete all the money in your bank account to pay off your debt? I see this being a good or potentially bad thing. On one hand, with most of the debt, you’re paying interest rates. Some high, some low -- but that’s added money you don’t HAVE to pay if you get your act together. Depleting savings makes sense in this scenario.

At the same time, then things come up like needing new tires or a hot water heater, etc. (ugh, yes -- my birthday present -- and then some -- this year was a hot water heater). If you have nothing in the bank, what do you do?


Ultimately, we need to figure this whole thing out sooner rather than later. We’re wasting money on interest . . . we’re feeling the weight . . . we want OUT. I get so inspired by the stories I read of people who have come out of debt, but many times I feel like they are about credit card debt. For us, the student loans have really limited our available funds for other things. Then car payments (stupid, STUPID cars, right?!) Credit cards weren’t much of an issue.

I suppose I could look into a blended approach between the debt snowball and debt avalanche. There are really so many approaches.

To recap today, here’s what went wrong:

We made too aggressive a plan that didn’t leave room for any error. As a result, instead of sticking even remotely close to it, we got overwhelmed and almost rebelled at the whole idea. Thinking, “this is ridiculous -- we can’t even BEGIN to follow this plan.”

Area for improvement: 

Get over it and keep moving forward. We may try to do HALF of my original plan. Use half my freelance income and go after our car loan first. From there, we’ll get ONE of our debts totally paid off, feel accomplished, and then be able to pitch that money toward the next debt.

I’ll be back soon with some notes on how we’re hoping to cut our budget further in the fall. These will be specific, seasonal tips . . . and I’m excited to share them with you. I’d love to hear what things you’re doing recently to save money. We joined Sam’s Club a couple weeks ago, so I have a lot of good, bad, and ugly to write about that.

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Chocolate Cake. Chocolate Frosting.

I'm switching the order of my posts this week to bring you this beautiful disaster:

I have been dreaming of a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for what seems like weeks now. Cake baking is the sort of thing that takes planning and time, which is probably why I end up mixing together so many cookies instead. (Latest favorites here and here.)

Last night, I had an extra half hour, and I decided to use that that wisely. I mixed the cake batter together while Stephen fed Ada her dinner. I whisked the frosting together during their daddy-daughter play-time. And I let it cool, for like five seconds, and frosted it during her bath.

Now, I'm not a betting man, but I think that's where it all went wrong.


I don't profess to be a master baker of any sort. Cooking + baking are a continual process of learning for me. Having a blog doesn't give me any more skills, credentials, or authority than your garden variety home cook.

Yet -- I get a lot of questions in my inbox starting with "I know this might seem silly/stupid/obvious . . . "

No. I assure you: These questions rarely are any of those things. Keep 'em coming, and I will try my very best to help. Though, after this post, I am sure the flow of emails will slow considerably. You are all now thinking: "She doesn't have the slightest clue what she's doing!"

Sigh. I learned last night when you don't let a cake completely finish baking OR cool properly (uhm, cake baking 101?) AND you make a too-thick frosting by adding a little lot extra powdered sugar, that said cake will fall apart.

When using a knife gets too cumbersome, you'll end up frosting it with your fingers. Taking breaks every now/then to lick off the crumbs. Waves of shame washing over your body. Or is that the sugar rush from the frosting? It will be difficult to distinguish because, after a while, they become one.

The whole thing will become a (delicious) mess.


Truth be told, this is the best cake I've ever eaten. Moist and fluffy, the frosting not too sweet (for my taste). Chocolate upon chocolate. I'd rather wait to share the recipes until the execution can be judged a 10.0. Or perhaps an 8.

Also: Did you know you don't need a light box to take OK-ish photos in complete darkness? 

Just invest in the 3 cheap lamps + daylight bulbs in this post. Set them up in much the same way . . . switch them on . . . and shoot in manual mode. You do lose a bit of control of shadows, the lighting isn't IDEAL, but it works in a pinch.

My settings for these photos were mostly 1/160, f/2.5, ISO250 and I used my very favorite 30mm lens. The 50mm lens would have worked well, too.


SWITCHING GEARS: Later today on Writing Chapter Three, I'll be writing about Ada's first gym daycare experience. Her first daycare experience of any sort, for that matter. As you can see, we had fun working out together.

On a related note . . . and not to sound like a total B . . .

Don't you HATE IT when your treadmill neighbor spies on your workout? I did intervals last night, and the person next to me wouldn't stop gawking and then upping her own pace in response. I wasn't imagining it either. She'd glance over, nudge her MPH up, and eventually bonk/have to walk. Ugh. Then she gave ME a dirty look when I left.

What annoys you most at the gym?

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Kombucha: First Try

I drop mention of things periodically.
Have you noticed?

Things I've promised to do or declared I'm setting out to do. You know. It happens to bloggers all the time. It happens to non-bloggers, too. But with bloggers, there's this whole accountability bit. The words are out there. In black and white, depending on your site's color palette, alive for eternity on the web.

(Aside: I need to stop promising so much and just DO. I need to stop saying so much and just LIVE.)

Anyway, we were brewing our own kombucha as part of our fun-things-to-do-in-2013 plan. And we were entirely too excited about the first step: The process of watching the scoby -- the mother -- grow and flourish in its own disgusting, sixth-grade-science-experiment sort of way.

Almost the full two weeks in // on January 11, I remember specifically -- a day that will now live in infamy // Ada and I had gone out to the store to fetch some baking supplies. Chocolate chips and other essentials. Some eggs and almond milk, too. A head a broccoli. We got home + I proceeded to make Ada lunch and put away the items from our haul on empty shelves.

Ada sang to me as she shoveled in bits of tangerine and tofu. I stopped for a moment to erase the chalked Christmas tree that was still proudly carrying the room's decor for a full half month after the holiday. I drew a sparse, but colorful, winter scene in its place. Ada clapped and I continued my work of the grocery bags.

The scoby looked quite robust and slimy from its perch atop the refrigerator. It wouldn't be long now, I thought. The birth of our first batch was imminent. After lining up all the cold goods on the counter, I grabbed the refrigerator handle without much thought -- a tub of Earth Balance clutched in one hand, the other flipping open the dairy compartment -- and CRASH.

Down came the glass gallon jug.
Down came the fermented sludge.
Down it all came,
through a thin cheesecloth cover
onto
. . . me.

Hair, clothes, and toes wet with strange, foul liquid. I stood a moment in disbelief. Snapped a photo so there'd be proof when Stephen found the jug scrubbed in the sink. He'd be devastated. I knew it. Ada giggled. Then: What to do? It -- the mother -- was splished and splattered e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. On the floor, in the fridge, on the wall, on the stand mixer, creeping ever-closer to Ada's high chair.

I'm almost 90% sure some droplets made it into my mug of tea.
Ironic, no?

Thankfully I Stephen had done a large load of bath towels the night before. They were folded and waiting on the couch for their journey to the linen closet. I grabbed a few and wiped down everything. I stripped down to my skivvies, right there in the sunny kitchen, desperately hoping my 80-year-old neighbors (Jack + Diane, yes -- like the song) weren't home to see the pathetic display. In one swift motion, I grabbed my clothes and scooped up Ada. We headed upstairs so I could shower off my hair and change.

For once in the past two years, I had been wearing a nice sweater that requires dry cleaning. I choose to blame this event for my current fashion disaster status. (At least grubby sweatshirts can be tossed into the wash without a thought beyond light or dark.) When we got back downstairs, Ada finished her lunch while I scrubbed and dubbed everything some more.

We haven't conceived another scoby since. I don't know when we will. I have a sour taste on my tongue over the matter. I've brushed my teeth many, many times since . . . so, I'm pretty sure that's not the leftover microbes from whatever splashed into my gaping mouth that day.

Lesson learned: Don't store so much darned stuff atop the refrigerator. Bookends are bound to slip and slide. And when your scoby has a great fall, all the king's horses and all the king's men do not come to your aid.

It's all on you.

Quite literally.

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Sourdough Experiment: Stage 2

I was so excited for this next stage in the Sourdough Experiment. Armed with a delicious recipe (that I won't share for reasons you'll know in soon enough), I scooped into my baby starter and measured out the rest of the ingredients.

pour + mix + rise

My starter was gorgeous white and bubbly and smelled very much fermented. I think adding a pinch of yeast -- in other words "cheating" -- helped. But I'm not sharing the recipe I followed for the bread because in its instructions it said the dough will be "shaggy" and to let it sit for 12 hours to rise.

Well, it's been a good 12 hours and the shaggy dough does not at all seem like something that will bake into a scrumptious sourdough loaf with air pockets of goodness. It didn't rise one bit and it looks exactly as it did 12 hours ago. Too dry, I'm sure of it.

Actually, it looks most like a mess of wasted time. Thankfully, I fed the starter again to replenish its stores.


I knew something was amiss from the beginning -- but didn't want to believe it. Could I have added an extra half cup of flour while trying to document the whole thing? It's possible. Could the recipe just have a mistake in it? Surely -- we all know I forget to write out ingredients from time to time.

Also: Why are most bread recipes not measured in cups, instead ounces/grams/etc.? It drives me insane. I have a converter table on my refrigerator, but I'm too lazy to use it.

Regardless, I'm going to seek another no-knead recipe (I am choosing no-knead because in the past, that process has given me the best results) + mix it all up again. Using a bit of creative license here with these photos -- I'll ask you just imagine the scenes from THIS DAY are what produced whatever is to come.

Who else is baking with me? How is it going?

Pssst: Here's what you may have missed this week on Writing Chapter Three . . .


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Pumpkin Soup Fail

In my many years cooking, I have made and created some incredible recipes. Many of these foods and entire meals become favorites that I return to time and time again. On the flip side, I have also made some pretty terrible concoctions.

Take this pumpkin soup, for example.

We knew it was bad while it was still simmering on the stove yesterday afternoon. Not only that, it also seemed to be a black hole for all flavors. Each and every thing we added either didn't make a difference or made it worse. (And in the case of curry powder, far, FAR worse.)

Honestly, I don't know what happened. I followed a recipe, which I won't share here for obvious reasons. I hate wasting food, so I bottled it up and put it in the fridge for safekeeping. Stephen would eat it, I thought. Stephen eats pretty much anything.

Well. Stephen just got home a moment ago. Upon entering the house, he said: "That soup? I drank it for lunch because I needed calories. That was all it was good for. It was soooooo gross."

Now we're in a spat because -- though the recipe wasn't mine and I wholeheartedly agree the soup was terrible, possibly the WORST -- my feelings are hurt. I know it's ridiculous to get angry. Still, I am the one who made it, so it's my fault. My failure. And he is completely and passionately disgusted.

Plus, he went on and on and on about it!



I don't have a soup recipe of my own to offer you today, but I am making this Roasted Corn, Pepper, and Tomato Chowder (just use veggie broth in place of chicken AND I added a nice 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne for heat) as I write this post.  It's not done yet, but it already tastes delicious.

Redemption!

Have you made any recipe fails lately? And even if you knew what you made was awful, when others have commented on it -- have you felt upset? It's silly to fight about food. Time to go make up! I'm thinking grilled cheese might do the trick.

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Fabulous Fail: Microwave Chocolate Cake

By now, we all know I'm a huge fan of "baking" stuff in the microwave. Just check out the latest micro-muffin recipe, and you'll see what I mean. So, imagine my delight when I came across this amazing microwave chocolate cake recipe.

As always, I wanted to take it a step beyond that recipe. I wanted to double the batter and pour it into three small bowls. I wanted, dear friends, to make an intensely easy, microwave chocolate LAYER cake with some of Ashley's peanut butter frosting.

Here's what happened.

I mixed together the batter -- making a few changes here and there with the ingredients. I probably ate at least a half cup of it while pouring into three Fiestaware bowls. (The preggo in me is addicted to batter and dough of any kind.)


Then I started microwaving it. The recipe says to cook for 1 minute on high. Then remove from the oven and stir. This action ensures the now-melted chocolate chips are better incorporated and distributed throughout.

Chocolatey goodness . . .


From the top, we have the cooked-1-minute-and stirred mix. Then clockwise from that, the before-hitting-the-microwave version. The bottom photo is of a "complete" cake -- after cooking for an additional minute and a half.

Let's just say, things were looking (and smelling) amazing.


Then the problem started. I noticed the cakes -- despite being pour into well greased bowls -- were stuck. Completely stuck. So, I put them in the refrigerator to cool down a bit.

I daydreamed about how good the whole thing would turn out on my 6-mile jog.


When they were sufficiently cooled, I tried prying the cake out with a fork. Tipping the whole bowl over. Gently pulling at the corners with my fingers. ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. It was clear after about three minutes, though, that it wasn't going to budge.

Eventually part of the cake did come out. Grrrrrr!!!


So, what's the whole "fabulous" part of the fail? Well, despite how crumbly the texture may look, the cake is actually quite moist. And it tastes INCREDIBLE. Just as good, if not BETTER than any chocolate cake I've made at home before.

For now, we'll just enjoy the cakes right out of the bowl.


This isn't the last try, mind you. There will be more attempts . . . and tips are appreciated. I'm determined to create a fancy cake in my microwave. Why, exactly? We've received emails requesting dessert recipes that don't require ovens for baking. And we have a ton of no-bake and raw stuff to suggest, but this whole cake thing seems like so much fun!

YAY! PREGNANT WOMEN CAN EAT BRIE!


For those of you interested in why pregnant women CAN eat brie (like in the Baked Flatbread with Sweet Onions, Collards, and Brie recipe), check out the 17 Week video post on (never home)maker, baby!

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Salty Air . . .

I'm taking a breather today. I woke up with the best intentions to make an awesome breakfast to share with you all. A new micromuffin recipe I've been dreaming up with tons of extra protein go-power.

I mixed together the ingredients . . .
oiled the mug . . .
and opened the microwave.

To my horror, a small dish of cooked collards were already in the machine. Let me specify. They had already been in there for at least three days. Rotting. I'm not one to re-heat greens. I have enough trouble eating them the first day, so the "oops" belongs to THIS guy:

Problem is, though I'm feeling much less morning sickness, a stench like that could send even pre-preggo Ashley off the deep end. My appetite was ruined. I almost lost my breakfast -- that I hadn't even eaten yet! So, I poured myself a bland bowl of Cheerios and sliced some strawberries over them. Which means no fun recipe for you!

Yeah. Today's a breather day. I want you all to inhale as you take in the beauty of this picture . . .


Exhale.
Inhale again.
Exhale.

This is where we'll be in just 15 days. And I can't wait. Unfortunately, though, today's post will have to wait until Stephen disinfects the microwave. Ick!

If you're interested, we posted 25 goals for 25, er, 23 weeks on (never home)maker, baby! today. We'd love to hear if we're on the right track, if we're forgetting anything, or if we're way too ambitious!

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Wineglass Recap: My First DNF

Well, we're back from our marathon weekend in Corning, NY! Unfortunately, we couldn't find our not-so fancy camera, so we didn't snap any photos ourselves. However, we did receive a couple from our friends of before and during the race. My parents also got a few after the race, so when I get those, I'll post them ASAP.

The weather was excellent. Around 40 degrees at the start . . . and no showers like the forecasters had anticipated all week. The skies were mostly sunny and there was only a gentle breeze. Seriously perfect racing conditions! Stephen earned a new PR, finishing in 2:55:48 -- eight and a half minutes better than his Philly time last year! But he's planning to write his own race recap this week.

This is my story of my first-ever DNF (did not finish).


Like I said, the race conditions were perfect. But let's back up. The day before the race, we got into town early to have lunch with my grandparents and hit up the expo. We finally found a room to stay in (instead of getting up at 4AM to drive to the shuttle [that takes another 25 minutes to reach the start line]).

The room was comfortable and clean. We turned in around 9:30PM (after laying out everything we'd need in the morning) and set the alarm for 5:00AM, but neither of us slept well. It wasn't really nerves (it was nerves in Philly that kept us up all night) -- instead it was the really loud AC unit that kept clonking on and off every half hour. When we had turned it off, around midnight, we thought FINALLY we'd get some rest. Then around 12:30, this loud group (staying at the hotel for a wedding, we think) returned to their room on our floor. Sloppy drunk. AND DID WE SAY LOUD?!?! Yes. We thought they'd quiet down, but over an hour later . . . it seems they only got, well, louder.

At this point, I'd woken up every hour on the hour. Stephen called the front desk to report the issue. They quieted a bit. But still had a few outbursts for the next couple hours. I did end up getting a good stretch of sleep between 2 and 4AM, but then I kept waking up thinking the alarm was about to go off. Long story short: Not a great night of sleep.


We got up at 5AM, ate a few bites of bagel with maple almond butter, and drank a bit of water. Got in the car, drove to the shuttle busses, and finally got to the start. It was cold. But we thought ahead and wore our space blankets. We visited the Port-a-John line a few times, and before we knew it, the race was starting!

I placed myself just before the 4:00:00 pacing group. As I wrote in last week's post, my ultimate goal was to finish around 3:50:00. I started off slow. Kept with the pace group for the first mile, then just kept going at a comfortable rate. I felt like I could talk the whole time. I felt confident and strong. The course wasn't flat, but a good mix of gentle up- and downhills. And then flat. And then a couple more gentle up- and downhills.

• 5K time was around 26:48 (8:38 average pace -- thanks to a downhill start).
• 10K time was around 53:55 (8:41 average overall pace)
• 15K time was around 1:21:30 (8:46 average overall pace -- there was a hill in there)
• Half Marathon time was around 1:55:20 (8:48 average overall pace, see how I'm slowing?)
• 16 mile time was around 2:20:00 (8:45 average overall time)

Now, around the 14 mile mark, I started to feel hot. I took off my long sleeve and tied it around my waist. Then a few minutes later, my back began to bother me -- I don't know if I've written about my left piriformis muscle problem before, but it was that muscle, tightening. And it seemed that my whole pelvis area was sore and worsening with each stride. Kind of early to have these sorts of pains, I kept thinking. I took a moment to slow down and walk at a water stop. I also took a gel.

Around the 25K mark (15.5 miles), the pain was worse. And it seemed I was hitting the wall. I drank some Gatorade because I thought it'd help wake my legs up. The mix of gels and Gatorade made me sick to my stomach. It tasted toxic and was just sloshing around in my stomach. Ick. I didn't abide by the "nothing new on race day" rule. Though I had brought some homemade energy chunks, I somehow thought I'd NEED the gels. Everyone else was taking them. So, by 16 miles, I had consumed two packets.


When my legs and back just felt like they needed a rest, I thought I'd walk until the 4:00:00 pace group caught up with me. This was around mile 16.5, I believe, and I ran with them for a few minutes (maybe 3/10 of a mile) before I realized I just couldn't keep up. I had reached 17 miles and just couldn't see myself continuing on. I was even feeling dizzy. Totally zapped of energy. And -- again -- this is way too early to hit the wall. Especially with how many 20-milers I ran in my training this time around.

My back was killing me.
My energy was super low.
My morale was in the dumps.
I just wasn't having a good day.
At all.

I debated continuing on by walking and then running the rest of the way. But with 9 miles left to go, I just couldn't see that being any fun. (Maybe if I had only 5 to go, I kept thinking.) At the next water station, I stopped. I drank some water. And I made one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make in a long time: I was not going to finish the race. I was going to add a DNF to my otherwise impressive racing history. I sat down behind the water station and one of the volunteers asked me if I was OK. I was OK, my condition wasn't some sort of emergency, but I just couldn't go on feeling the way I felt.

The race didn't exactly have a great system in place to get injured-but-not-critically-awful runners back to the start. The course was relatively closed to traffic. Unless I needed an ambulance, I was out of luck. Thankfully, the volunteer (his name was Bill) said "Screw it!" and just got me in his car and drove. We reached the next relay entry point (18 miles -- where I had started the 3rd leg of the course 6 years ago when I did the relay), and then talked to some race officials. They gave us a hard time. They said it would be almost impossible to pass through the bridge to get to the highway and then asked me if I needed an ambulance. Uh, NO. All of this made me feel like I wasn't "truly" injured. It made me feel like I had made the wrong decision and should have just toughened up and finished the race.

Oh, the mental anguish I felt.


I was also extremely cold at this point. I was shivering out of control despite having the heat on full-blast in the car. Eventually, the race officials decided to let us pass. However, it was in one of the most embarrassing moments of my life! They called out on their megaphones: "INJURED RUNNER, COMING THROUGH. INJURED RUNNER, COMING THROUGH" -- EVERYONE -- runners, volunteers, spectators -- looked at me. Oh, goodness. Anyway, we finally reached the finish line, I got out of Bill's car after thanking him 1,000,000 times for all his help (I mean, the guy was just a water stop volunteer -- he didn't need to drive me 9 miles to the finish!). This was all around 3:36:00. So, when I saw Stephen, he was utterly confused. So were my parents!

The rest of the day, I can't explain it -- but my back felt better after laying flat on the ground for an hour or so. My legs felt like I didn't run a race. However, I did get completely sick. My nose won't stop running and I am sneezing like crazy. Usually my allergy pill takes care of these symptoms. But they are holding strong. I now have a full-on cold. It may explain why I just felt so awful and drained during the race. I've been piecing myself together for two weeks now by taking lots of vitamins and doing everything I could to avoid getting sick (despite how everyone around me has been ill).

Stephen says to just think of it all as a 17-mile pace workout for Philly. I'm trying my best. But let's just say more than one tear was shed yesterday (OK. The floodgates opened wide . . . ) and I'm still feeling depressed. Like the worst I've ever felt, quite honestly. I trained for this race specifically since July. I ran one of my three 20-milers in the pouring rain. There were so many social things I said NO to because I needed to run. Or go to sleep early to run. So much time given . . . and energy and passion expended.

My training was strong. Looking at my splits for the race, I do see that I started out fast. In all honesty, it didn't feel fast to me. I felt like I was holding back. If I do decide to race Philly (I am 90% sure I will, but I'm feeling pretty low right now), I want to find the 4:00:00 pace group and just stay with them for the first half of the race.


The big question remains in my mind: Could I have finished the race and been OK? I really don't know. I hate that I keep asking myself this question. Later in the day, I was sick, but my body felt fine. That nagging muscle and pelvis pain was gone. It made me question my decision. But Stephen keeps trying to remind me that I don't give up easily. If something was really wrong in that moment, if I deliberated like I usually do (and I REALLY do), I did the right thing by stopping. And, I guess once this sadness and these terrible feelings of shame pass . . . I'll realize that I wanted to stay strong for Philly instead of (literally) run myself ragged. Who knows what another 9 miles could have done to my back?

As I wrote the other day, I feel like there's a lot of pressure in the running and healthy living communities to do ultra-distance races. Though I don't sign up for races based on this pressure, the mental seed has been planted that to be "serious" you must run marathons. I know in my heart this isn't true, but every time I set out on a 20-mile training run, found myself at the start line of 26.2, or talked with other marathoners, I feel so inspired. Maybe I'm just having a bad weekend. And this post is incredibly long. So, I'll stop now :)

Have you ever had to stop running a race? Earned the dreaded DNF title? Or have you pushed through when you totally thought you couldn't finish? I'd love to hear your experiences. I'm starting to think that racing the marathon distance isn't my thing. I have so much fun with half marathons. And I like my long training runs. But racing the marathon is just . . . a lot. I do feel I made the best decision for myself yesterday. I listened to what my body was telling me to do. It was so tough. I still can't describe how it feels exactly. It must have been the right to do, though.

At least, I hope.

Anyway, please leave a comment or email us at neverhomemaker [at] gmail [dot] com.

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Kitchen Fails Times 1,000,000

I've had several pretty epic kitchen fails lately. First there was the great gluten-free pancake disaster. Then the awful tangerine-limeade incident. We can't forget the coconut butter debacle. And now the maple-almond butter gone wrong. The concept seems easy enough to grasp -- at least mentally: Turn nuts into butter. Just roast, process, and flavor.

However, between the almond and coconut butter issues, I'm starting to think my food processor might be to blame. (I mean, it can't be ME, right?!) We'll get to that later. I wanted to share this recipe with you anyway. Though what results isn't exactly like Ashley's cinnamon-maple-almond butter, it's still good enough to eat. Good enough to add into oatmeal. To spread atop toast. To enjoy simply from your spoon. It's got all the protein and flavor, it's just not the right texture.




HOMEMADE MAPLE-ALMOND BUTTER -- SORT OF

What you'll need . . .

• 1 cup raw almonds
• 1 tablespoon maple syrup
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 to 2 tablespoons coconut oil

Method . . .

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with tin foil or parchment and pour your almonds onto it. Spread out for even cooking.
2. Allow to roast for 10 minutes -- you should start to smell them . . . and they'll change color, darken.
3. Allow to cool for approx. 10 minutes. Then in your food processor (I would assume a smaller one works better), process until almonds form a fine meal-y texture.
4. Add in the maple syrup, cinnamon, and 1 tablespoons of the coconut oil. Continue processing for up to 10 minutes. The mixture should be well incorporated and close to almond butter texture by then. Again, mine never fully reached that point. Add more oil if you feel it's necessary.
5. Store in a glass jar or other kind of container.

So, it looks pretty dry, right? It isn't dry. It's just crumbly. I don't quite understand why it didn't totally work. It does taste just as good as the "real thing," however the texture is certainly something I need to work on. I even found Ashley's recipe for her famous cinnamon-maple-almond butter and followed it exactly. And I thought her method of roasting the almonds with the maple syrup on them would be the magical key to success. For me? No dice.

Like I said above, I'm starting to think my food processor is to blame. She's small, but powerful. The blades might not be sharp enough? Have any of you had this problem? I first started to suspect something was up with the little pink thing when Ashley said that all you need to make coconut butter is coconut flakes. Then you just process them (for a while) until the butter forms. I processed for twenty -- count 'em -- twenty minutes . . . nada.

Basically, I'd love some suggestions on good-quality food processors. Because I'm almost 100% certain we need to buy a new one. What works the best for you? What's the most economical? What size do you like best? Anything related to food processors is welcome. Just leave a comment or email us at neverhomemaker [at] gmail [dot] com. Also don't forget you have until Friday, June 18th at 9PM to enter our CSN $60 Gift Certificate Giveaway. I know what I'd do with that $$$ -- buy a new food processor!!!

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Grocery Bills: Major Fail

OK. Before you lose all faith in this blog, in us -- consider that since we began our slashing grocery bills quest a little over a month ago, we've saved over $120 (approximately). That being said, we had a slip-up this week, mostly from laziness. Partially from overindulgence. And most definitely from lack of planning.

Here's the ugly truth in black and white:



And here's the story:

First, we can indeed deduct some amounts from this bill. We bought our beer for the week (as we mentioned in another post, beer comes from our "entertainment" fund), and that was $10. Some toilet paper, $3.50. But that's only dropping the total down to $68. Yeah, it's still (awesomely) better than when we started out, but we were averaging almost $15 beneath this total -- and still eating large, so to speak.

$15 is $15. And as we've grown older, made our own money, and paid all our own bills, every dollar counts.

I blame our situation mostly on poor planning (lack of, really, as mentioned above). We typically grocery shop on Sunday. This week, we waited until Wednesday! Which leads me to another admission of guilt: We also visited the store Monday to buy ingredients for "dinner" and spent about $30 buying random stuff. Add that to our $68, and you may see now why exactly we've failed for the week. Grand total: $98 -- approximately $45 over budget.

Back to the "real" grocery shopping day: We didn't make a list until right before we left for the store. After I had gone running and was ravenously hungry. I wanted treats of all kinds -- so throw the "one treat a week" policy out the window. We also bought lots of dairy products because we were simply craving them at the time. I can't stress enough to go shopping (and plan for shopping) on a full stomach. Your mind will be far less crowded with all the foods your body is craving, and you'll be far less inclined to want to purchase treats all at once.

In the scheme of grocery bills, this week's wasn't too entirely bad. It's more the lack of control we displayed. It's more the laziness and absence of care that went into shopping. What's worse: Though we bought many ingredients, because we didn't plan out our meals for the week, we don't have foods that necessarily match to make meals. So, the issue is complicated further.

I won't go on. What's done is done. And all we can do is work toward a better week next week. Have any of you had a total grocery bill fail? A particular total that embarrasses you? Ever feel like you left the store with a ton of food, but with -- ultimately -- no real planned meals (think radishes and peanut butter and brie)? Leave us a comment or email us at neverhomemaker@gmail.com.

And if you'd like to read our journey from start to now, check out the following posts:

• Slashing Grocery Bills: We're Going Strong
• Eating Well Need Not Cost a Fortune
• Slashing Our Grocery Bills: Progress
• Slashing Our Grocery Bills: Even More Progress

And if you haven't already -- go check out this month's Blog Love Fest. It's a special edition because we're not only sharing the links in a list this month. We're creating a categorized blogLOVEroll. For all the gooey details, just visit the BLF post.

Like what you just read? You can subscribe to the feed of these posts or follow us on Twitter or Facebook to be the first to know what the (never home)makers are up to. And we’ll love you forever!

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