recession-proof living

M and I have been economizing. Or at least we've been trying to. It is difficult to think up things to cut since we already live in a rather modest way. But I admit I do indulge in a few precious luxuries on occasion (usually of a sensual nature, having to do mostly with wine, food and simple creature comforts), but an exercise in austerity is always a welcome challenge. I relish taking a long, penetrating look at those things in my life that I think I need and watching how readily they dissolve and diminish upon inspection into small and trifling wants, like baubles and bibelots that I could take or leave on a whim. And so my needs have changed.

I have given up my Willamette Valley Pinot Noir in favor of Bridgeport IPA, purchased by the case at Costco. Fancy cheeses have been replaced with standard fare. Organic and local is still a must, but less out-of-season items, less of everything in general. Nothing goes to rot in our house anymore. Scrappy, random, everything salads are the new staple, if only because no vegetable is unwelcome - the leftover onion middles, the broccoli stalks, the blanched overripe green beans -all are accepted in the giant, mixed-up salad bowl. Our kitchen, always an adventure, has become a fresh, creative place. I have never been much of a mall shopper, so there is no great sacrifice there (last night M told me it is nice that his wife doesn't "spend all his money" -it seems that is a common gripe in husbanddom?). We are walking or biking for all of our around-home every-day trips (groceries, video rental, etc.) and we have abandoned our long, meandering afternoon walks that always end at a brew pub. Oh -don't worry -the walks are still on, but now we carry the brews from home, find a snug, pleasant spot along the trail and make our own party.

Yesterday evening, we wandered through the Reed "Lake" wetland trails (the Minnesotan in me puts Oregon's idea of a "lake" in mental quotations -it is a swamp really, a mucky, mosquito infested bog -but it's lovely still I suppose if you've got nothing else). Trekking along on the northern flank of the "lake," we came across a little waterfall, rushing and thundering and drowning out all sounds of the city that surrounded us. Perched on a rock ledge, we cracked a few (local) Thunderhead IPAs (purchased only moments before ice-cold from the cooler at Safeway) and settled in to enjoy the recession.