A rhubarb recipe.

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I recently attended a barbecue that was wryly dubbed “Grill, baby, grill!” by its hosts. As I was leaving they gave me a small sack of newly cut rhubarb. Alaskans are nuts about the stuff. In the old days, rhubarb was the first fresh food of the year. To the pioneers it must have tasted positively ambrosial after a winter of sourdough bread and boiled beans.

Modern-day sourdoughs can get all the fresh produce they want at Costco, yet they  maintain an ancestral fondness for this vegetable that masquerades as a fruit. Even people who don’t eat it grow it, probably because it takes no horticultural talent at all. Stick a rhubarb root into dry cat litter and by morning you’ll have enough stalks to bake a pie. (Stick it in used cat litter and you’ll have enough for two pies.)

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4 ways to think about money.

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Want to drop a bad habit or develop a good one? You need a plan. Or, rather, you need a list.

We Americans love our lists. We especially love short lists. Just check the headlines on magazines, features sites or blogs. You’ll almost certainly see ones like “Three easy steps to lose weight/stop smoking/become a millionaire.”

Having a list makes us feel we’re already halfway to achieving our goals. Lists make us feel confident and in charge: I’ve got it all figured out! Now I just have to implement it!

It’s never really that simple, of course. If three steps were all it took, we’d be surrounded by thin, rich people whose fingers were unstained.

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14 insanely cheap ways to have fun this summer.

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So the economy’s not so great. That’s no reason to give up recreation.

The best things in life are free. Some of the other things are cheap — say, a dollar or less.

Just off the top of my head:

Wash your car. Use an environmentally friendly soap. It’s a good excuse to squirt each other with the hose on a sticky day.

Hit the dollar store. Buy sidewalk chalk, a kite, some bubble-blowing stuff or a generic Frisbee. Then take it to the park. OK, so you may have to add a few cents in sales tax. You’re still spending a dollar, but being charged tax. (Not to split hairs.)

Create your own “drive-in.” Weather permitting, set up a TV in your driveway and screen movies outdoors. Kids are especially delighted by anything out of the ordinary. But don’t be surprised if grown-up neighbors also walk over to see what’s on.

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Blogs you can dance to.

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It’s been fun trotting around the blogosphere this week. Why keep it all to myself?

“Delayed gratification,” at Girl With the Red Balloon

“What’s your frugal Kryptonite?” at I Pick Up Pennies

“The words I hate to say the most” at Modern Tightwad

“Overcoming the wall” at Financial Samurai

“A critique of marriage, from a bride-to-be” at Tiger Beatdown

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You can’t even tell perfect bodies apart.

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My Ani DiFranco T-shirts are fraying. Not before time, you understand: They’re from a 1997 concert in Anchorage, Alaska, which I reviewed. Originally they belonged to my daughter, who went to the concert with me.

The gray tee features a DiFranco verse:

“So I’ll walk the plank and I’ll jump with a smile/If I’m gonna go down I’m gonna do it with style/And you won’t see me surrender, you won’t hear me confess/’Cuz you’ve left me with nothing – but I’ve worked with less.”

The other shirt, a kind of an old rose/mauve color, bears a single lyric:

“Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right.”

Neither of us could have known that would be the last summer of Abby’s first life. Seven months after that concert she was on life support in the UW Medical Center’s intensive care unit. Guillain-Barre syndrome paralyzed her right up to her eyeballs and nearly killed her. She’d recover function but would never be the same.

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Can’t control your finances? Get yourself a coach.

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Not a counselor — a coach. That’s the subject of my latest “Living With Less” personal finance column, now up over at MSN Money. “Find a personal money coach, free” explains how you can work to make your finances match your dreams. Generally speaking, counseling is about an issue and coaching is about an individual. … Read more

Turf wars.

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Here’s the only thing I learned this week that’s worth remembering: If the sun is out, mow the damn lawn. I was so embroiled in deadline that I somehow felt I couldn’t take 45 minutes off to cut the grass at my house-sitting job.

“Later,” I kept saying, until “later” turned into “tomorrow.” Except that it rained that day.

And just about every other day, until the house was the only one on the block with a prairie view. At which point it rained again.

 

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Automatic frugality.

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The other day I stopped writing and left the room to go to the euphemism. (We didn’t say “potty” in our house.) As I walked out I turned off the office light even though I’d be gone only about a minute.

At lunchtime I rummaged in the fridge for some cheese, the sausage I brought with me to Alaska and the mustard. The nearly empty bottle was upside down, so the last few drops would be attainable – just enough left for my lunch.

It’s 50 degrees, breezy and raining but I didn’t turn up the heat. I just put on another layer, my fleece Mr. Rebates pullover. (Only recently did I figure out that the logo is a little bag of money wearing glasses. Or maybe it just has googly eyes.)

Welcome to automatic frugality – stuff that’s so ingrained you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Only when someone reacts do you learn that the whole world doesn’t write grocery lists on junk-mail envelopes or pick up pennies from sidewalks.

If you’re lucky, that person doesn’t think you’re a kook. If not, then the wedding is off or you don’t get that promotion after all.

 

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Trashing plastic bags.

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It’s so easy to denounce plastic shopping bags. They start to tear before you’ve finished filling them. They’re a waste of the oil used in their manufacture. They wind up in landfills by the millions, or floating along roadsides, or in the stomachs of marine mammals.

Some cities have proposed or enacted grocery-bag fees to discourage use. Other municipalities (and countries) have banned them outright.

Eventually plastic bags will no longer be a fixture in our lives. And I’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Wait! Don’t send the green squad over to tie a shopping sack over my head! I’m as dismayed by the waste of petroleum and the ubiquitous litter as anyone else. That scene from “American Beauty” of the plastic bag dancing in the wind was cute – but the moviemakers didn’t address the fact that the bag had to come down sometime.

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