Another Case for Less Gives You More

Writer and designer Graham Hill makes a case for the less is more approach to living. Condensing your space. Only keeping your favorite things. And only buying things that will last many years.

He follows three rules:

1. Edit Ruthlessly
2. Think Small
3. Make Multifunctional

A few years ago, before moving to Seattle, I started my version of All My Life For Sale. I attempted to get rid of all the excess in my life by selling every single thing I owned on eBay and at an apartment sale where I invited complete strangers into my personal space to shop and take what they wanted. I left a fishbowl on the counter and they paid what they thought the item was worth to them.

My project was not nearly as successful as previous versions, including the original by John Freyer, mostly because selling every single thing you own on eBay is, well, an insane amount of work. But I did manage to edit my life from a bunch of boxes I was just moving from apartment to apartment and state to state down to only five boxes of clothing and basic essentials.

As I begin to consider moving into a smaller space and getting a roommate, I am ready to self edit ... edit ruthlessly, even, and follow the guidelines set out by Graham Hill.

Do yourself a favor and take the next six minutes to watch the video above. It's worth more than considering.

Stacking Up Eggs and Eggplant

Last week I tried to kick start myself into eating more healthy options and less on-the-go lunches and dinners. By Tuesday, I was eating pizza and having a beer. The problem was that I gave up too much at once. No coffee. No alcohol. No carbs.

It was no good.

I decided to give it another shot this week. I figured, if I can make better choices every day of the week, then I can not put so much pressure on my weekend dietary schedule. So, on Sunday, I went to the store and bought about $90 worth of produce and essential ingredients for the pantry. That night I spent a solid hour and a half cutting vegetables and fruit for salads, snacks and the like. Everyone knows having the prep work done in advance is half the battle.

When it came to dinner time last night, I was pretty excited to try something new. This eggs and eggplant stack I came up with was quite a treat. My friend Meloni and I were talking on the phone, and she convinced me the idea of using pasta sauce as a base was not crazy.

In other words, pasta sauce goes well with eggs ... as long as there's eggplant, I guess. I have to say, topping this with some cracked black pepper and fresh basil from my very own herb garden made it feel a little more like my own.

It's looking pretty promising that I'll beat last week's two-day record of eating well during the week. Of course, it still is Tuesday morning.

Striving for Perfection, Again

I have a tendency to go through phases in my life when I think everything is a wreck. Just a complete disaster. Or, at the very least, a little off balance. It's these times when I frequently refer to myself as a hot mess or the hottest mess.

The truth is these are the periods of time when, more likely, I actually have it the most pulled together. Earlier this week, I entered wave one of hot mess mode. I know I'm in phase one when I start seeking out self-discovery books and resources to get more organized, get more done and just be a better person all the way around. I start thinking about new ways to be able to double my workout schedule, because six or seven times a week just doesn't seem like enough. I start trying to figure out how I can eat less of everything and more of the rest of everything. I want to feel better, look better, be better.

Basically, I'm looking for ways to be perfect. Unrealistically perfect, in fact.

Last weekend, I grabbed my copy of "The Secret" from the bookshelf. It's a book I've never read completely, and it's a book I'll probably never read completely. But I often gravitate toward it, because it was marketed as one of the most comprehensive resources for getting everything you want. I don't know if that includes absolute and complete perfection, though I'm sure it's just a vision board away.

All I need to do is clip out a few pictures from a magazine, glue them on some poster board, and I'll be on my way to living my perfect life. The one I made happen with my craft glue and crude cutouts from Men's Health and Details. One where I'm surrounded by wealth, happiness and a body built by 16 trips or 32 hours a week working on my physique. One where I only eat broccoli and the best protein a vegetarian can find. One where I don't spend money on things I don't need and I don't waste time doing things that impede on my being perfect.

What I really need to do, instead of strive for this perfect state of being, is just make a realistic plan to push myself a little harder ... in just one area. Not look for overall perfection, just better than before. Of course, that's not how I work. But by the time phase two rolls around sometime next Wednesday or Thursday, I'll have enough confidence in myself to just try to work on a few small changes. Or nothing at all.

I'm so predictable like that.

Seattle: More Than Black and White

This is why I love the city I now call home.

All You Have to Say is Unlimited

I like to think of myself as a foodie. At least I like to think of myself as someone who enjoys going to one-of-a-kind, more upscale restaurants to try dishes I most likely wouldn't (or couldn't) just whip up on my own. That's the definition of foodie, at least for the purposes of this entry.

In other words, I appreciate the experience of dining out at more local restaurants that may or may not be owned by a celebrity chef and may or may not have been visited by the Food Network. I like trying places that have been around for decades and places that have been around for five minutes ... but have everyone buzzing. So, what I'm really saying is this: I'm not much into chain restaurants.

That used to not be the case at all. Back 10, maybe only five, years ago, I was all about a trip to Chili's. Or Applebee's. Those would have been some of the first choices on my list for nightly dinner options. When that started to change, especially after moving into the heart of the ever-changing face of Seattle's foodscape, so did my choice for where to eat for my birthday dinners.

While I previously would have been perfectly content with a stop by Ruby Tuesday's on my special night, now I'm more prone to go for the quaint, exclusive spot somewhere hidden in a residential neighborhood. I'd say I'm more like to chose a place where courses cost $28 a plate, not $9.95. That's not to say I'm all about the price. I think we all have experienced some high-dollar disappointments at the dinner table. But a pleasantly memorable dining experience often goes hand in hand with the dollar amount on the bill. The more you pay, the more you remember. And not just because you're forced to eat Ramen Noodles until your next paycheck.

Last week, when it was time to choose my dinner destination, I had all kinds of places in mind. For several days, I'd been thinking about the new Tom Douglas restaurants and researching menus at the spots I've heard about but not yet tried. There are dozens on my mental bucket list for restaurants to visit, and my birthday was going to be the excuse to check one off of that list. Staple & Fancy was one I really had planned on choosing, because I wanted to try the "fancy" part. Basically, the well-known chef creates whatever he wants for this multi-course feast. This is a bit risky as a vegetarian (I've heard they don't really appreciate you giving them restrictions of any kind when you order the "Bring Me Whatever" option), but nobody I know has had a bad experience.

When it came time for my actual birthday, last Wednesday, I got asked the big question: "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

Staple & Fancy was the expected answer. Or Crush. Or even the more affordable Boom Noodle, a Seattle spot I frequent. None of those came to mind. Nothing, for whatever reason, sounded like the right place. I just wasn't craving anything in particular that day, and I wasn't in the mood to get fancy (or to try it, I guess).

But a birthday dinner destination had to be chosen. So, I just blurted out the one place I used to go on an almost-daily basis, even though it is the most stereotypical of all chain dining establishments. Almost as a joke, I said, "Olive Garden. Let's go to Olive Garden."

As soon as I said it, I couldn't stop thinking about that salad. And those breadsticks. After all, it's UNLIMITED, which is the main appeal of the place. So, that's where we ended up. At a chain restaurant.

I had eggplant parmesan plus two bowls of salad. And three breadsticks. I wanted to have four, but I stopped myself at three.

As I took a bite of the chocolate mint that comes with the bill, I realized chain restaurants become chains for a reason. It's because they're known for something that works well and has mass appeal. Just ask anyone about Olive Garden. The first thing they'll mention is the unlimited salad and breadsticks. Especially the breadsticks.

Why I Have to Get on the Treadmill Today

Tomorrow I turn 33. Not a special birthday or anything significant other than marking the day I caused my mom some pain back in 1978.

This morning, I was supposed to visit my personal trainer at the gym, but he rescheduled. That's not the worst thing that could happen, since working out with him is about 17 times more painful than going at it alone. (Editor's note: I'm also aware that means working out with him is also 17 times more beneficial than going at it alone.)

When I make it to the gym later today, I may skip my usual weight-lifting routine (something I've been hitting pretty hard for the last 10 weeks) and just log some miles on the treadmill. I feel obligated to do this, just so I can enter my age as 32 one more time before moving to the easier-to-punch-in 33.

Back when I was training to run my first 5K, I spent a lot of time on the treadmill. It was an almost-daily reminder of my weight (and weight loss) and age, since I input both of those figures each time I stepped onto the belt.

Turning 33 doesn't really make me feel any older than my previous couple of birthdays, but I will be more aware because of this treadmill practice. When you have to remind yourself on a regular basis of your age, it seems a little more important.

I guess the good news is, because of my improved health in the last year or so, I feel much better going into this insignificant birthday than I did my last significant birthday ... 25 ... when I could finally rent a car on my own.

Cake Pops: When 'Easy' Recipes Take Too Much Time

My adventures in baking are usually pretty successful. I grew up spending a lot of time making cakes, cookies and whatever other sweet treats would pass the time between the school bus dropping me off and my mom getting home from work.

Baking beat boredom.

In the last few years, I've significantly cut back on my baking and sweet making. It's been good for my health and good for me getting other things done. But this weekend I decided to spend a little bit of my free time jumping on the bandwagon of a trend that's a few years in the making ... Cake Pops. Even Starbucks has gotten on board with these little treats on a stick.

The woman who wrote the book (seriously, she wrote this book) on cake pops, is well-known food blogger Bakerella. She's made cake pops in simple form (reference what I did) and much more complicated and decorated.

After I watched a Bakerella video on tips and tricks, I went to work. I baked the cake, cooled it off and crumbled it up. I added the frosting, mixed it and rolled it into balls and popped it in the freezer. Just like she said.

Already, I was over this project. Even though I was making them for a co-worker's birthday, I thought about scrapping the whole thing right then and there. I was not even sure I was getting a dozen cake pops from the recipe, which is expected to create twice that many ... at least.

But I carried on and hours later, I was dipping the uncoated cake balls into melted white candy coating. Add some sprinkles, wrap them up and tie them in a bow and finally I finished.

Baking used to be a way I managed my stress. Cake pops, I now know, are not an appropriate project to relieve stress - even if they did turn out looking just right.