Cleaning the kitchen is an endless chore. No matter how diligent we are about it, it never seems totally clean. The bigger your family, the more food and traffic is involved. The sink, counters, floors, appliances, and cabinets take a beating.

Here’s one simple way to keep your kitchen cleaner: Don’t eat anything that makes crumbs. Much of the mess in the kitchen – or elsewhere if you or family members eat beyond the kitchen – is caused by food that makes crumbs. Coincidentally, almost all food that makes crumbs is stuff low in nutritional value.

Name anything that makes crumbs – bread, most cereals, chips, cookies, cake, pie, crackers, donuts, pretzels, and almost anything that comes in a box or airtight bag – and you’ll find something that is dirtying your home, attracting pests, and making you fat. All of this food should be eliminated to live lean.

This is not to say that vegetables, fruit, and lean proteins aren’t messy. The difference is we tend to notice the mess from slicing these food sources and clean it up immediately. Plus, there tends to be less mess with these whole foods. Crumbs tend to go unnoticed.

This also is true of drinks. You can spill water pretty much anywhere in your home and not do damage. But spill a soft drink, milk, coffee, or alcohol (especially red wine, as we’ve learned!) and you’ve got a sticky mess – and possibly some permanently damaged upholstery or carpeting.

By eliminating stuff that makes crumbs, you’ll also clear out lots of space in the refrigerator and pantry. In fact, you might no longer need a pantry. Food that makes crumbs is produced to last for months, even years, on supermarket shelves – and in your pantry. It’s a natural attraction for bugs and rodents. So, too are crumbs in the home.

The key to eating lean, saving money and time while maintaining a lean physique, is eating fewer foods. The easiest way to cut back is eliminating the ones that make crumbs. Clean the diet and your home naturally will stay cleaner and you’ll spend no time dealing with crumbs.

 

 

 

In our American consumer culture on steroids, it’s amazing more people don’t have the wake-up moment Joshua Becker did in 2008 when he realized he didn’t have time to play with his young son because he had to deal with an avalanche of clutter in his garage.

Thus began Becker’s BecomingMinimalist.com, arguably the best of an increasing number of blogs – including ToLiveLean.com – devoted to stripping down possessions, clutter, and commitments to free time and money for what’s really important: family, passions, and giving.

Becker has inspired millions to opt-out of the bigger-is-better American trend that results in less time and much more debt and stress. But even devoted followers of his blog will find new material and inspiration in the powerful new book “The More of Less.”

It’s not Becker’s first book, but the first produced by a mainstream publisher and marketed to the masses. It might be the coming out moment for the minimalist movement, even more so than Marie Kondo’s best-selling “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.”

Becker pays tribute to Kondo, as well as other noted declutterers such as Peter Walsh and fellow minimalist bloggers Courtney Carver, Ryan Nicodemus & Joshua Fields Millburn, Leo Babauta and others. But Becker drills deeper to frame minimalism as a means to develop a focused, mindful, intentional life.

Becker’s background is in church ministry and he delves a little deeper into the biblical references and his faith journey in “The More of Less” than he does in the blog, but the message resonates regardless of faith or lack thereof.

In the last few years, Becker has inspired me to eliminate 50 percent of my belongings, including 75 percent of my clothes, and reduce my television viewing to little more than college basketball. When you purchase only what you absolutely need, you find you don’t need much.

“Once we let go of the things that don’t matter,” Becker writes, “we are free to pursue all the things that do matter.”

Less clutter = more time and freedom. It’s a tough sell in America, where overconsumption is viewed as the norm, if not a civic duty to support our economy, itself unsustainable because of consumerism.

Minimalism, as Becker writes, is “the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of anything that distracts us from them.”

Indeed, more is less.

 

Where I grew up in Virginia, some of my neighbors had swimming pools. I mowed lawns as a teenager and my neighbors didn’t mind if I jumped in their pools as I worked, even though I was covered in dirt, sweat, and grass clippings.

My parents, wise and sensible people, never considered installing a pool. Why go through all of the expense and maintenance of owning a pool that’s used for perhaps three and a half months? If I wanted to jump in a pool, I could go mow a lawn. If we had a pool, I’d never use it.

Undeterred, I vowed to one day own a home with a swimming pool. Not only that, I would live in a warm climate where I could use my pool all year round. So it was that in 1999, in the final months of my twenties, I bought a big ass house with a swimming pool in Florida.

The night we closed on the house, my wife and I drove right over from the lawyer’s office to our new home. We marched right to the pool, stripped off all of our clothes, and jumped in. The water was surprisingly cool for a late June evening in Florida, but we didn’t think much of it. We now had our own home – and our own swimming pool!

Nearly 17 years later, we rarely use the pool, even though we still live in the same Florida home and can use it comfortably from about mid-April until the end of September. The relatively short “pool season” surprises Northerners, who presume that since we never have to cover our pools in Florida, we must be able to use them 365 days a year and would want to do so.

That’s just one of the great myths of swimming pool ownership, perhaps the most overrated feature of a home. It’s a strong selling point, to be sure. Just look at marketing materials for any home with a pool. Whether it’s a two-bedroom ranch or a sprawling 20,000 square foot compound, the pool is prominently featured.

Here’s what Realtors never tell you about pools:

THEY’RE HIGH MAINTENANCE: Sure, you’ll go through long stretches where this is not true, especially if you have a chlorine-free salt system, which we do not. Still, even without the salt system, you mostly have to throw in a gallon of shock once a week, put some hockey-puck size tablets in the chlorinator and make sure the pool does not turn green. No fuss no muss, right?

Unfortunately, your pool is a perpetual chemistry experiment dictated by the weather. There will be algae and stains and specialty chemicals needed. If you’re not constantly on top of this balancing act, the surface will wear out even faster than it ultimately will, requiring an expensive resurfacing. It’s not a question of if but when.

Sure you can hire a pool service, but that’s another monthly maintenance bill.

YOU’LL NEVER USE IT: Until you have a pool, you’re convinced you would use it every day. After all, you stayed a week at a resort hotel and you and the kids were in twice a day, every day. But the novelty wears off quickly when you have a pool of your own. When you live in warm climates, many homeowners have a pool. So it’s not even a big deal for kids to ask their friends over to swim. After all, they probably have a pool, too.

YOU DON’T “SWIM” IN IT: But wait, you say. I plan to use my pool for exercise. That’s wonderful. Too bad your average residential pool is 20 feet long and kidney shaped, not conducive for lap swimming. Perhaps you’re going to do some water aerobics or rehab movements. A pool is great for that. But most people think of pool exercise in terms of swimming laps and for that you need the traditional 25-yard or 50-meter version.

THEY’RE NOT THAT WARM: That night in June 1999 my wife and I learned that pools are not that warm, even here in Florida where we must build caged lanais around them to keep out the bugs. Not until late April in Florida – or Memorial Day in much of the country – does a pool reach 85 degrees, the comfortable temperature for sitting and socializing. By October 1 in Florida – or Labor Day in much of the country – the pool has dropped to 79 or 80 degrees. That’s perfect for lap swimming, but chilly for playing with the kids.

Sure, the kids won’t mind the cooler temperatures – to a point. Whenever we have guests from the North during the winter, there’s always a kid who begs mom and dad to let him jump in our pool. We highly discourage it, mentioning that the pool is 65 degrees and nobody has been in it in months.

Inevitably, Northern Mom will say, “Oh, that’s okay,” as the kid jumps into his swimsuit. “We’re used to that in Syracuse.”

“Please don’t,” I plead, sighing like Willy Wonka.

Moments later the kid is shivering in our living room wrapped in a towel, and Northern Mom is giving me the death stare for not warning them.

But wait, you say. Isn’t your pool heated?

Ah yes, the No.1 FAQ to pool owners. No, call us crazy, but like most pool owners we’ve opted not to purchase another expensive, high-maintenance heat pump on our home that would double our electric bill so we can swim from November through March. And, no, we did not want to install unsightly solar panels and PVC pipe on our home.

So I have learned my lesson with swimming pools. Sure, the pool has provided some fond memories. When our kids were between 3 and 6, a woman came over to give swim lessons to them and some of our neighbor kids (when the pool was warm enough). And we had a few memorable parties, though not as many as you’d think over 17 years. Even when you have parties, few people get in the pool. It’s almost as if it’s a water feature, like a fountain or pond.

As we downsize, one of the top requirements for our next home is that it not have a swimming pool.

But when we go to sell this one, the pool no doubt will be the most prominent feature listed.

Participation trophies are a polarizing topic. Some believe the trend of giving kids trophies regardless of performance dampens motivation and brings about a sense of entitlement. Others believe it’s a harmless gesture that builds self-esteem.

I tend to fall into the first camp. I received just one trophy as a kid despite playing baseball and/or basketball from the age of 8 through high school. That’s because my youth sports leagues awarded trophies to only the first-place teams. The second place teams received plaques, if that, and third place and beyond got nothing. Thus, getting a trophy was a big deal and strong motivation.

But we’ll save the participation trophy debate for another day. One overlooked downside to awarding trophies, ribbons, and certificates for everything is that it produces clutter. Plus, the award becomes the focus, not the experience.

This isn’t just true of youth sports leagues. We’ve reached the point in adult endurance sports where athletes expect a medal for finishing not just an Ironman triathlon or a marathon but every run-of-the-mill 5K run, even if it’s a “themed” race where most “runners” just walk around getting doused with colored powder. So you get a finisher’s medal, along with a T-shirt, and a “swag” bag full of sponsor promotional items (pens, key chains, etc.) and plenty of paper advertisements. Often the bag is a nylon backpack with the race logo.

So we’ve transformed what should be a physical challenge focused on pushing your body to new heights into a shopping experience. Pay $50, $75, or $125 and get a bunch of stuff. Do enough of these races and soon you have a drawer full of T-shirts, a box full of medals, and promotional items cluttering your home.

This same mindset often takes root in vacations. Rather than focusing on exploring new places and trying unusual experiences, many emphasize the accumulation of souvenirs, artwork, clothes, and home decor to remind them of the “experience.” Which is appropriate since for many people vacations are about shopping and consuming.

Thankfully, digital photography has eliminated the clutter produced by vacation photos. Those of us of a certain age will remember sorting through “free double prints” from the pharmacy and being subjected to marathon slide presentations – actual film slides, not PowerPoint – from Aunt Millie’s trip to China.

Though digital cameras have eliminated this torture and kept vacationers from shooting photos of scenery and famous sights that now can be found online, technology has contributed to a self-absorbed culture where we must photograph everything rather than just take in the experience. We live in the era of “photos or it didn’t happen,” which places the focus more on photographing the experience and sharing it online immediately over living mindfully in the moment.

Before we embark on any experience, whether it’s entering an endurance race or planning a vacation, we consider the cost in terms of time and money. That’s only natural. We think of the joy the experience will bring. But whether we think of it or not, we’re also weighing the swag we’ll receive.

That’s why I’ve come to consider experiences solely for, well, the experience. Would I enter this race if it there were no T-shirt, finisher’s medal or swag? It not, then why do the race? Would I attend this professional sports event were it not for a free giveaway? If not, why pay to watch an event for two to three hours if I wouldn’t do so otherwise? Would I take this trip if I knew I would bring home nothing but memories and perhaps digital photos that I did not share online?

As for participation trophies, how many of those kids would play sports were it not for knowing they’d receive a trophy at the end of the season? Probably most, but some no doubt have become so conditioned to receiving a trophy that the plastic trinket on a small slab of marble becomes the primary motivation.

Today’s 6-year-old receiving a participation trophy becomes the adult who looks for swag and finisher’s medals at a 5K, spends vacations shopping for “memories,” and makes decisions based on “free” giveaways.

Why not live lean and design your life around actual rich experiences, not the souvenir clutter they might bring?

It’s amazing what we’ll do when something is free. We’ll stand in line for an hour for a free burrito or Italian ice. We’ll buy tickets to sports events we wouldn’t otherwise attend because there’s a free trinket involved. We’ll pay hefty fees to enter running races in large part to get an ill-fitting “free” T-shirt cluttered with sponsor logos and/or a medal that will go into a box and be forgotten the day after the race.

Sometimes the lure of a free knickknack is enough for us to subscribe to a magazine, which not only creates the clutter of a knickknack but also the ongoing clutter of magazines we don’t need or want. We go out of our way to accept “buy-one-get-one-free” (BOGO) offers when usually we don’t need more than one of the item and sometimes not even one.

As I’ve purged clutter, I’ve discovered much of the clutter I received for free but never used. There are the never-worn free T-shirts, never-displayed ballpark giveaways, and never-used free product samples or the so-called “premium items” received for subscribing to a magazine.

When it comes to “free” clutter, just say no. That free clutter is costly, taking up time, space, and focus.

Over the years, I’ve participated in a number of endurance sports races – running events, triathlons, obstacle races, stand-up paddleboard events – and I’ve often turned down the free T-shirt. Most of the time the shirt is a generic, ill-fitting, unisex shirt cluttered with sponsor logos on the back. I also decline the “goody bag” since it’s usually a sack full of advertisements and paper. Occasionally there’s something useful buried amid the clutter – like a packet of sunscreen or an energy gel – but I find it’s rarely worth the time to go through the clutter. Inevitably I feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween, hoping for candy but getting a rock.

I’ve learned that if the race itself isn’t worth the entry fee from a strictly experience standpoint, it’s not going to be worth it because of the T-shirt, goody bag of advertising, and a finisher’s medal or trinket.

The ballpark freebie is the brainchild of Bill Veeck, the Hall of Fame baseball owner who from the late ’40s to early ’80s owned the Cleveland Indians, St. Louis Browns (now Baltimore Orioles) and the Chicago White Sox (twice). Veeck, who died in 1986, pretty much created what’s now known as sports marketing. He introduced names on the backs of uniforms (so fans could identify players), planted the iconic ivy on the walls of Chicago’s Wrigley Field (his father was once Cubs president), was the first to shoot off post-game fireworks, and believed in adding value to the ballpark experience. (His son, Mike, has introduced similar media-generating promotions as a minor league baseball team owner. Mike and I even wrote a business motivational book together years ago.)

Unfortunately, the ballpark giveaway is now a clutter giveaway. When in doubt, say no to free stuff. Most everyone knows to ignore the clipboard-wielding marketers at shopping malls and sporting events looking to “give” us something in exchange for signing up for another credit card.

But why take free paper handed to you on the street? Or commit to something because of a “free” T-shirt or knickknack?

If something isn’t worth buying for the experience or value it provides in its own right, it will not be worth it because of the “free” item thrown in as incentive.

 

In the last two years I’ve purged more than half of my belongings. Clothes, books, sports gear, tools, excess furniture, yearbooks, paper, electronics, toys, sports memorabilia, photos, and more odds and ends than I can count.

But yet there’s been something I haven’t used in 15 years that I’ve struggled to purge, even though I come across it every day and even though it’s taking up valuable floor space in the garage.

Golf clubs.

I haven’t played golf in 15 years and have hit the links just twice since I moved to Florida at the end of 1997. The clubs were not expensive; I bought them at the going-out-of-business sale of a local sporting goods store in 1998 for probably no more than $125.

It’s not like I once played a lot of golf, just an occasional round as a teenager. Though I’ve been around golf and lived near golf courses much of my life, it’s not a sport I ever embraced or found particularly enjoyable. If I have a spare three hours, I’d much rather run, swim, paddle, hike, or bike.

So why can’t I get rid of these golf clubs?

Maybe it’s because they represent a sport I’ve never been able to master. By parting with them, I’ll be admitting that I’ll never play passable golf, even though I already made that decision subconsciously by not playing since 2000.

There once was a time when I thought it was important to play passable golf. Twice in my twenties I started from scratch with lessons – first in Virginia and after I moved to Florida. I even co-authored a fitness book showing golfers how to train to play better golf and avoid injury. Even that didn’t inspire me to pick golf back up.

Golf is good for business and networking, I was told. Maybe that’s still true, though it seems like interest in golf has waned in the last two decades. Today’s hard-charging young and middle-aged professionals seem to prefer endurance sports like triathlon, mountain biking, and stand-up paddleboarding (SUP). Or CrossFit, yoga, and obstacle racing.

I can’t even say I’m keeping the clubs for my sons, who are at the age when they could take golf lessons. We have a driving range and teaching school around the corner, open year round. But the boys have expressed no interest in golf and, if they did, they’d need shorter clubs. A quick glance at Craigslist reveals comparable sets to mine – many comparable sets – in the $75 range. In the unlikely event I ever want another pair of clubs to replace these old sticks, I can find a cheap upgrade quickly.

It’s funny what we struggle to purge. For some it’s sentimental items. For others it’s books or mementos. Then there are the golf clubs and their equivalent, which represent another weird psychological hold, the middle ground between old hobbies and ones we never embrace.

True, you’re never too old to master a skill and if golf were on my bucket list, I’d keep the clubs. To live lean, we must curate all aspects of our lives, playing triage with our time by choosing only activities that bring us joy.

I can watch great golfers and appreciate their skills.

But devoting time to golf was never my thing.

And it never will be.

Today the golf clubs went to Goodwill.