Liz Greaux has enough shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant and soap to last her, her husband and four children a whole year.

Ditto for pasta, assorted sauces and canned vegetables.

The last time Electrasol dishwasher tabs were on sale, she picked up 28 boxes. Needless to say, it will be a long, long while before Greaux utters, "Drat, I'm out of dishwasher detergent!"

That thought is enough to bring a wide smile to her face. But it's knowing she paid absolutely nothing for them is what gets the Edison resident really excited. And for that, she has one thing to thank: coupons.

"I don't pay full price for anything," she says proudly.

It's hard to believe this is a relatively new pastime for Greaux, considering the stash — which includes paper products, room deodorizers, gum and oatmeal, among other things — piled up in her pantry.

"I just tried it and got hooked," she says of her coupon-clipping habit, which began innocently enough when she stumbled across an article about www.thegrocerygame.com (a Web site that tracks product prices and coupons to save people money). It piqued her interest, so she signed up for its one-month free trial. And that was all she wrote.

"The amount of money I was not spending" proved intoxicating for Greaux, who at 49 was accustomed to dropping $200 per week at the supermarket.

"It's an addiction," she says. "Definitely an addiction."

Brush with fame

Coupon-clipping also is a passion that's gotten her on the "The Rachael Ray Show." Twice.

Both segments, which aired in November 2006 and referred to Greaux as the "Coupon Queen," featured her in her element — the grocery store — doing what she does best. In the first, filmed near her home at the Super Stop & Shop in Edison, she demonstrated how to save big bucks. Using coupons for sale items, she whittled a $180 bill down to $75.

"It was not my best, but they were happy," she says.

Then again, this is coming from a woman who once purchased $600 worth of merchandise and made $11. Greaux calls that experience her "triple-coupon high."

A second "Rachael Ray" segment, in which Greaux taught a coupon virgin from Long Island how to spend less than $100 on ingredients for a Thanksgiving dinner for 20 people, followed soon after.

Down to a science

Over the years, Greaux has developed — and refined — a system which works for her. She initially culled coupons from only one or two newspapers. Today, she gets them from at least six papers, including the Home News Tribune, Courier News, The Star-Ledger, the New York Times, New York Post and New York Daily News.

People might assume that clipping the coupons takes up most of Greaux's time. But that really only takes up about 1 1/2 hours per week.

"The longest part (of the process) is schlepping in papers," she admits.

Fortunately, she can rely on her family to help out.

"This is definitely a group effort," she says. "We all do our part."

Once upon a time, she used to clip all of her coupons and place them in a binder that she carried to the store. But that method soon proved tiresome.

"It was too bulky," she says.

Nowadays, she simply selects which coupons she will be using each week, cuts them out and paper clips them together in her purse.

How does she decide which coupons she will use? By perusing sales circulars in advance and determining which items will be on sale. That is a key element of Greaux's madness — she only buys items that are on sale and for which she has a coupon (or two, or three, or four).

Still, no matter how great the sale — or how many coupons she has — Greaux follows one golden rule: "I only use coupons for things we either use or would like to use."

The agony and the ecstasy

While Greaux gets a natural high watching all of the discounts being deducted from her order, she says the process isn't entirely stress-free — especially when the registers choke while subtracting the seemingly endless stream of coupons.

"They (the coupons) set the machine off, and then the manager has to come over and use the key," she explains.

Reactions from store employees vary, too, when they see her push her cart into the check-out lane or visit customer service.

"They don't like me, but they know me," she says.

To be fair, though, it's not hard to understand their dismay. Imagine a plethora of coupons, combined with double — or triple! — coupon days on top of sale prices. Even Greaux's children find themselves occasionally sympathizing with strangers.

"I feel bad for the people stuck behind us," 17-year-old Lisa Greaux remarks.

But the kids — Lisa, 14-year-old Jamie, 11-year-old DJ and 22-year-old Candice, who lives away from home — and their dad, Darren, benefit from their mom's talent.

Jamie, for example, enjoys using the shampoos and conditioners her mom purchases — though she insists on using the same brands in conjunction with one another. DJ and his sisters use coupons for gum and candy.

"When you don't have lunch until 11, you get hungry," explains Lisa.

And while friends and neighbors make frequent jaunts to the supermarket, Greaux sits back and relaxes.

"(Other than bread and milk), I don't have to shop for a month."