MI Bucket List: A This Is My Shot Series

Matt finally left command last May. The nightmare finally ended.  Well, it turned into a much bigger, scarier nightmare that deeply angered me to my very core due to the dangerously entitled generation Matt led, but all of those details are now behind us, and there they shall stay.  The point is, that nightmare, too, came to a finale late last July, and we finally got those blessed orders to leave Fort Gordon.

A very quick, dramatic, and eventful six months passed, during which I moved out of the South for the very first time in my life, to join Matt's family and thick-blooded brethren in the great, mysterious state of Michigan.

I'd never known anyone from Michigan before I met Matt a fateful three and a half years ago.  As a born and raised Southerner, the states of the midwest held little glamour to me, so all I'd ever absorbed prior to that point are - "It has lakes."  Granted, I'm known to get lost taking a wrong turn to the grocery store I've been visiting for two years, so I'd never claim geography to be my strong suit. I'd been dating my now-husband for less than a year when regular cable started to offer Michigan's last stand to survive the flunk of American auto in the early-2000's by targeting none other than tourism.

I remember watching those commercials with skepticism and a look of split pea soup on my face - "You've got to be kidding me. Why on God's Green Earth would anyone ever go to Michigan? Willingly?!"

Apparently I would.

I got the same response from several co-workers when I turned in my notice.  Ironically, the most common culprit to spout the phrase - former Michiganders. "WHY would you go there?"  The owner and CEO of my prior employer, who is also a Detroit-native, expanded further when I told him my husband missed his home state:

"Which part? The awful weather, the corrupt politics, or the terrible condition of the roads?"

My fellow Southerners responded with a brilliant observation: "It's cold there."

Well-spotted.

After all of that encouragement, you can imagine how excited I was to pack up our life and drive 900 miles to my new home in Michigan.

BUT, I'm a survivor. I learned a little over a year into Matt's time in command that I have to learn to make the best of each situation and find the joy, happiness, adventure.

So, with the help of my own in-house expert, I formulated a Bucket List - an itemized list of things I'd like to accomplish in Michigan.  And, because I believe in documentation, I will be sharing my journey as a South Carolina Girl in surviving this ferocious Yankee state, in the hopes that in the very least, I may help Michiganders laugh at my fate, and Carolinians to affirm their aversion to the North.

1. Visit and hike the Sleeping Bear Dunes.
2. Not just taste, but experience, a fresh fish fry.
3. Go snowmobiling for the first, and undoubtedly last, time ever.
4. Make an attempt to see - and photograph - the Northern Lights.
5. Learn how to make Michigan Four Berry Pie.
6. Learn how to make Southern Biscuits. (Because I'm #SCProud no matter where I am, dammit.)
7. Visit Mackinac Island, eat fudge.
8. Try a Coney Dog. (Which apparently is not exclusive to NY.)
9. Visit Frankenmouth/ Bronner's.  Eat Bavarian Chicken Dinner.
10. See the Tulip Festival in Holland.
11. See the Cherry Festival in Traverse City, and eat cherries until I'm sick.
12. Figure out what all this "Faygo" nonsense is about.
13. Learn if Euchre truly exists, and play it (if it is, in fact, not a myth.)
14. Eat fresh Paczki (and memorize how to spell it).
15. Use my hand to describe where we live. (Correctly.)
16. Experience and document a true Michigan Autumn.
17. Visit Silver Lake Park.
18. Snow shovel.
19. Walk on a solidly frozen lake.
20. See a show at the Fox Theater.

Michiganders and MI enthusiasts (assuming those exist), tell me - what have I missed?

Wedding Dress Dating

Collecting your girlfriends together, searching through magazines and ads and dog-earing "the pretty ones," then sweating profusely as you try on dress after dress, style after style, lace, satin, taffeta, a number of other fashionista terms that remain completely foreign to me... Has anyone else noticed that wedding dress shopping is basically re-living your dating life? 

Mine has been precisely that.  My first trip out shopping, I tried on two or three dresses before I found one I really thought was IT - THE ONE.  I got sucked into the accessories they added here, touched up there, and didn't realize this was the first time I saw myself in a veil.  That's where those "THE ONE" feelings came from.  The consultants stood around chirping away about how it was "one of a kind" and "so beautiful on me" and "such a great deal."  (You're so cute together...)

Deep down, I felt really indecisive.  Deep down, I think I knew I sensed it was wrong. But it was a such a great deal.  They threw the veil in for free.  They sold me on "we'll clean up the imperfections, it'll be perfect for your big day."   (Everything wrong will become right before you're committed to it...) Smoke, mirrors, fantastical ideations.  And then reality hit.  

They lied.  They lied about everything.  A single repair was made to the dress, and it was done so ridiculously half-assed they may as well have just left it alone. In fact, upon arrival nearly a month later than it was supposed to, the dress was in even worse shape.  The beading was missing in several places, the applique was falling off, there were dirt smudges, ink stains, runs and scratches in the silk, and sweat stains under the arms.  It was awful. Ruined. 

I had been deceived. I was heartbroken.  It took much longer than it should have to get the dress returned, back and forth with the boutique and the credit card company, being accused of lying and breaking my "contract."  I searched for another dress, but half-heartedly.  I had made the wrong choice before.  What if I did it again?  Finally, after literally three full months, the credit card company found the transaction to be fraud and the boutique refunded the money.  (Read my review on Yelp here) I was finally free to make another decision.

More shopping, more trying on dresses, and rejecting them. I was running out of time and needed to make a decision. (Tick tock tick tock...) Two dresses at two different shops were in the final running.  Both were very similar to an idea I had floating around in my head.  I tried both on multiple times, deliberating over "taking out a layer of fluffy stuff, altering the waistline, switch out beading, add a belt," with both consultants. After taking off one of the dresses, emotionally exhausted, indecisive, feeling beat up and defeated, I bonded with a consultant over military spouse life, both of us desperately seeking a last-minute gown for an upcoming post social.  Then she gave me the best advice I could have ever gotten: "If you're not sure, maybe neither one is it."  

On one hand, I felt even more rushed than ever.  I have not found the dress, the wedding is in six months and two weeks, and I'm running out of time.  On another hand, I felt refreshed.  I didn't have to decide between this dress I like that just wasn't giving me that fluttery feeling, and that dress that was quite nice but was missing something I can't put my finger on.  I was freed to find THE dress - THE ONE.  More shopping, more dresses, more indecision...

And then I found it.  The fluttery feeling, the I can't think about anything else, the wow is this for real?

You'd think the battle was won, but life had just one more curve ball for me.  This perfect dress I had found online.  By a designer that is not very popular in the States.  Only one shop in 200 mile radius carried this designer.  And they might not have that particular gown. I then was immersed in a new kind of debate - Do I keep fighting for this dress, even though it's inconvenient and is a huge risk, or do I give up on it, wash my hands of this perfect dress, and hope to find one that maybe somehow could hold a candle to it?

All who know me well and have been with me on this journey over the past six years that led me to Matt are thinking this singular thought: "Whoa."  

I know.

My dress journey has been a direct reflection of my dating journey.  Every bump, every uncertainty, every mistake, concern, self-doubt, close call, and final leap of faith, has been, almost verbadum, my journey to finding the love of my life.

Spooky, right?

Wedding Planning Advice That Will Save Your Marriage

Yes, I’ve been absent.  Bad blogger.

As it turns out, constantly writing news-worthy press releases, catchy Facebook posts, and SEO-rich blogs kinda drains oneself of the motivation to type out one’s meandering thoughts.  I’ll admit, I’ve noticed a significant side effect to not writing, but that’s another story for another day.

Today’s story launches off of some pretty life-altering news for me.  An event that occurred on December 8th of last year - the evening a pretty cool guy asked me to marry him.

I said yes, in case you were wondering.

And we were so excited - and still are - to start our life together by sharing the moment we exchange vows with all of our loved ones.

Now, I know a lot of people who got engaged recently.  Like, a LOT.  Pretty much seeing engagement announcements every weekend these days.  And I’m over the moon happy for every last one of them (those people out there nay-saying engagement and pregnancy announcements - STAHPIT. They’re not hatin’ on your weekly hangovers and careless jaunts to nowhere. Quit hatin’ on their own version of happiness).  

But there’s a seedy side to getting engaged people warn you about, and don’t really provide a solution for.  I don’t like problems with no solution.  It’s like a hot dog with no bun. Or a “buh-dum” without a “ch!” So the anxiety, the - yea I’m using the word - STRESS - it kind of started to get to me - to both of us.  

Well, I found a solution. And I’m going to share it with all of you brides and grooms out there planning your wedding.  

SCREW IT.

Yep, you heard me.

SCREW IT ALL.

No, I don’t mean dump the plans you’ve had whirling around in your head since you were seven chasing or being chased by the cute kid with the buck teeth on the playground.  I don’t mean blow the budget and spend the rest of better or worses eating beans out of a can and fighting over who gets to sit in the lawn chair over the hand-me-down bark-a-lounger because you’re so severely in debt you can’t afford dishes, furniture, or the electric bill. I’m not encouraging you to light the extended family’s invitations in a giant bonfire and dance around it laughing maniacally while smearing the juice of berries down your arms and red clay on your face.

Although you should know all of the above options will - I don’t mean might, but will - cross your mind at some point or another.  And they are going to sound kind of appealing.  It really won’t seem that crazy.

What I mean is this:  The man who got down on one knee five months ago and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him is the only damn thing that matters in this whole ordeal.  The life we build together, the health of our relationship, the faith and trust and respect we instill so vulnerably in one another - THAT is ALL that tops the list above all else.  

Now I’ll admit sometimes I suspect I may be naive for thinking it, but Matt and I have an awesome relationship. And I’m not just saying this to sound like I’m living the most perfect life and others should be envious, because both of us have already made mistakes and have hurt each other, but I sincerely believe that I am the luckiest girl in the world.  Because I have found this man - this incredible, wonderful, ambitious, caring, considerate, intelligent, strong, selfless, empathetic, and loving man.  And by some kind of miracle, he chose me to share his life with.

Absolutely everything could wrong with our day.  The cake could fall apart, the flowers could randomly light on fire, the dress could not fit, the dj could be drunk, the photographer’s memory card could fail, the families could erupt in drama - and not a damn one of them would ruin that day.

As long as I get down that aisle, and profess my love, support, respect, and faithfulness to the man who literally makes me weak in the knees - and he to I - there is absolutely nothing that could ruin that day.

So that is my advice to all of you brides out there.  Things can and will go wrong.  The decorations will break, the venue you want will be too expensive, the dress you want impossible to find, guests will be fickle and insensitive, but none of that matters.  It’s not about the wedding, and I was just as guilty as so many others when I forgot about that for a few weeks.  It’s about the marriage.  It’s about this wonderful person you are committing to, who loves you with every fiber of their being, and if you are as lucky as I am, is solely interested in committing themselves to you completely.  The rest is just details.

To all of you who are or will be taking the big plunge into marriage in the coming months/ years - congratulations.  And remember, SCREW IT. Screw it all!

The Critical Compadre

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I like to revel in the victorious moments.  I enjoy sharing them with the people I love most.  Perhaps that's the synergystic relationship between pursuing a career following your passion and your personal life.  Particularly in a path that is so flippin' competitive, it's so phenomenally important to have people who support and believe in you.

Well, some people seemed to have missed the memo.

I'm a huge fan of poking fun, joking around, jesting, teasing, joshing, what have you.  I adore a good chuckle.  But last I checked, there was a line to those friendly jabs.  "Real friends are the ones you can make fun of and they love you anyway."  Sure, to an extent.  Nobody likes the crabby patty that gets all pickle-gilled when you toss a friendly joke in their direction.  However, the phrase "Feel the room" exists for a reason.  There are some topics that are just too sensitive.  For example.

"Haha, you're a failure!"

... Um... Wow.

Don't get me wrong, I can take professional criticism.  By a professional.  Who knows what they're talking about.  And being in the world of communication, you have to be able to get a concept of what other people are thinking, what they want, what will appeal to them, etc.  Again, to a certain extent.  When I was in college, I used the only sample I had available when assessing the photographs I took at a Men's Basketball game - my peers.  The subject was seated in a half-time huddle, exhausted and defeated at the re-injuring of his ankle at the end of the second half.  His face is seen staring off low and to the left, head hanging dejectedly, front and center of the shot, framed by two black-uniformed giants on either side.

"Where does your eye go first?"


"The butts."

... *blink blink* ...

Cue the idea that these "masses" don't know what they need, lack the education or the intuition to connect concepts.  For example, when I was working at a school:
   "Can we get a shot of 5 bajillion kids in this picture?  All in focus?"
   "Um. What's the concept for this poster again?"
    "How we individualize curriculum to each student's specific needs."
    .... *facepalm* ...

I want criticism.  Constructive criticism.  Constructive, professional criticism.  I want to become a better visual communicator.  A better communicator altogether.  I want to learn.  I'm eager to don the dunce cap to be awed by the experienced veteran.

Not by my critical compadre. Television isn't real life, here folks.  Just because the characters in Friends could make fun of Joey's belly-flopping acting career doesn't mean it's a healthy technique for personal relationships.  And now I shall belly-flop off of my soap box.  Adieu.

2013: My Grandma Could Have Done It Better

I remember sitting down in the fresh dew of 2013 and buzzing as I wrote down my secret resolutions (if they're secret, you don't have to be so ashamed when you forget about them ten days later), listing my fitness goals to recover from a foot injury and be the best damn soldier in the unit on my Physical Fitness Test.  I resolved to improve with my photography, look into launching my own freelance business, and to have a disposable income by December.

Boy, was I ever a product of 1990's disney films. (Read about #genYproblems with reality here.)

I haven't run without significant pain in over a year.  My income... Well. I don't even want to talk about it.  I am not a soldier in the US Army, and, with my injury, have no plans to continue pursuing that option. I did launch my own freelance business, and now make enough to finance my car insurance.  Not enough to fuel the car that is insured, but that's not the point.

2013 was a load of crap.  That's the point.  It was chock-full of disappointments and frustrations and crushed dreams.

So maybe resolutions are a load of crap too.  How are you supposed to know what curveballs life is going to throw at you?  A bogus leadership position in a team of photojournalists at an Army camp similar to the best summer of your life, for example.  Or a myriad of downward-spiraling complications with your boyfriend's job that condemns you to an occasional meal with a zombie inhabiting an aging look-alike of the man you love.  Equally frustrating, perhaps, a persistent debilitating nausea and waves of stomach cramps that seem to have no cause or solution but time and peppermint tea, to which the doctor prescribes "relaxation" and maybe this pill that makes you even more nauseous and conducts the cramps to a new level of orchestral pain.

You're thinking "Jeez, I didn't click on the link to hear you bitch for five hundred words."

I believe you.  I wouldn't either.  Let's get to the segway.

I couldn't have predicted these pitch-perfect doozies.  No one could.  I resolved for a flawless year...

While I was looking over the 70th chapter of an original cover letter for a job application I'm overqualified to take, I started to review the age-old interview questions "What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?"  (Cue video montage of the worst and best moments of 2012 and 2013, with a sappy 1980's love ballad - let's be serious, we all love them)

From working in a high standard environment for low standard pay with entitled youth and adults, I learned that I am capable of both diplomacy and patience.  With a job description that was three pages long, I figured out how to outsmart my ADD with to-do lists, priority schedules, reminder alarms, and being overly prepared. Overworked, I still managed to update, organize, and give professional image to every single publication they needed - both print and digital - in less than a year.

Constantly being told my work couldn't compare to a geriatric at an annual celebration of cake and candles by a "professional" who not only didn't understand the proper use of flash on a cloudy day, but also rewrote the ethics of journalism, taught me how persistently I can pursue justice through a team-play attitude and that I strongly believe in producing a quality product in the face of adversity.  I also scored publication in a national magazine.

Tenaciously pushing to develop a family-like camaraderie amongst a group of people so obstinently determined to be miserable brought out my faith in the resiliency of humanity, and it's capacity to sustain throughout the harshest of environments, if only given the opportunity for generosity and kindness.

I learned that real friends stand by you through tough times, ice cream, 48% liquor taxes, and even the occasional mood swing.  They understand your insecurities, and never insert themselves before your dreams or the love of your life.  Their support knows no bounds, no distances, acknowledges no times of disconnect.  Their loyalty is priceless.  It will not budge.  Ever.

You see, perfection is obsolete.  Because it's relative.  2013 sucked.  But it was a perfect year.  I flourished in 2013.  I made friends I can honestly say I'll keep indefinitely.  I developed skills that will not only enhance my durability for this crazy, roller-coaster Army life, but will assist me in becoming professionally successful, and happier overall.  I networked.  I persevered.  Life bolted a curveball, and I'm currently in the process of knockin' that sucker out of the park.  I'm surviving. Thanks to good friends, perspective, time, and an endless hopefulness, I'm climbing, honey.

And for all out there who are struggling with this new 2014 - a little hindsight like the above made all the difference for me.  You should try the same.


Now, let's end with a few reasons why "My Grandma Could Have Done It Better" is a completely inept insult.

Grandmas are awesome.  The End.

Holiday Hero: Care Package Ideas for your Deployed Servicemember

There are few things in this world that knocks the breath out of me more than the knowledge that I will one day have to survive a long period of time without hugging Matt.  It's a reality of this life that everyone who cares for someone in uniform has to come to terms with - and we all have our coping mechanisms.  Most just don't think about it.  Alas, I'm not a fan of denial, and I have always been one to over plan for the future - which, I believe, will be an advantage for us some day.  Thus, since Matt took command, I've spent times when I miss him perusing the internet in search of ideas shared by the experienced military spouses I've come to idolize.  I hide them away on my Army Strong Pinterest board, or amongst my dozens of Pages documents to turn to when times get tough.

For the most part, this is my only crutch to lean on.  I haven't exactly gotten much guidance on how to adapt to this crazy, roller-coaster world, and the fact that Matt and I aren't married eliminates the majority of potential mentorship via degrading looks and the eye roll.  So much for that whole "Army Family" concept?  No.  Actually, not no - but HELL NO.  Through the ups and downs of Matt's current position, we are both taking notes on how we can improve upon our roles in the future, and I have very solidly established my number one priority for the rest of time I spend in love with this soldier - I WILL impart everything I learn.  I WILL help those young wives, girlfriends, fiancees, moms, sisters, and whatever men happen to want assistance as well (despite how they never need help or directions, etc).

ESPECIALLY those who are experiencing their first holiday season away from their loved one.  ESPECIALLY when the majority of the internet rewards your google search with a "Click here to donate $20 for a cheaply packaged, half-assed effort at a holiday gift basket for a deployed soldier!"

Eh-eh.  Your servicemember deserves a personalized, lovingly wrapped, peppermint-scented bundle of holiday cheer.  So, I'm sharing the list I've been keeping under my wing for such a circumstance for myself in the future, established upon research, brainstorms, and personal experiences of holiday care packages to friends in the past.

 

 Holiday Care Package Ideas

DECORATIONS:
    Stocking - personalized (officers can provide stockings for people on their staff)
    Mini-tree w/ included lights (careful about the electricity - you CAN send batteries, just don’t list it on the items when you take it to the post office ;P)
    Yarn/Tape to make a “christmas tree” on the wall, and paper baubles
    Santa hats, reindeer antlers, etc
    A CD of holiday music
    For Officers/Leadership roles: small, cheap, wrapped gifts they can play dirty santa with their soldiers
    Holiday-Scented Candles

   
FOOD:
    Holiday Meal-In-A-Can (non perishables - Spam, Black-eyed peas, Green beans, Cranberry Sauce, Dried Mashed Potatoes, Hot Chocolate, etc.)
    Cake-in-a-jar (lots of recipes for these - make sure it’s air tight) - I think this works for Pie too
    Holiday Candy (of course) - I’ve seen a box that was themed “Blue Without You” with all kinds of blue colored candy
    Beef Jerky, all sorts of flavors. And more beef jerky. (Holiday-flavored beff jerky?)
    Gatorade/Powerade powder packets
    Homemade cookies/treats - in vaccuum seal baggies so they’re still fresh when they get there
    Coffee w/ Holiday-themed creamer (make sure it’s in an air-tight container)

ENTERTAINMENT:
    Water-proof playing cards (more resistant to sweat - gross, but necessary)
    DVDs, puzzles, board games, and books are often provided through Adopt-A-Soldier programs, but if your soldier has a favorite, send it! (Access to electronics like TVs and DVD players depend on your soldier’s location/MOS) -- I’ve heard complete seasons of light-hearted comedy TV series are a big hit for office-focused jobs

ALWAYS NEEDED:
    Duct tape - army green and digi camo are available in military outposts and at office depot, but fun stuff to decorate probably wouldn’t be frowned upon
    Chewing Gum
    Sun Block
    Sun glasses
    Baby Wipes - sometimes its the only shower they get
    Toothpaste, Mouthwash
    Eyedrops (to assist in getting sand out)
    Easy-access medical supplies (Tums, Motrin, Band-Aids, Sanitizer/Antibiotic Ointment, etc.)
    Five-hour energy or similar energy provisions
    Personal Fan and/or hand/feet warmers

DO NOT SEND:
    Alcohol (I’ve heard of people putting alcohol in travel hygiene bottles, but fact of the matter is, they get into TONS of trouble if they get caught drinking over there - so I don’t recommend it.)
    Porn (it’s illegal over there)
    Fireworks (they get plenty already, trust me)
    Big, expensive, shiny gifts - What Matt’s parents did when he was there for Christmas in 2010, is they ordered the gifts early, took pictures of what they got him, and sent him the pictures all wrapped up in a box to open on Skype Christmas morning.  If you want to send him something he needs or something small and cutesy, go for it, and keep the good gift for when he comes home.

FUN THEMES:
    25 days of Christmas - I’ve seen someone take a small door organizer and theme it by stuffing it with small gifts and labeling each pocket for the 25 Days of Christmas (or the 12 days - whatever)

PUT EVERYTHING in plastic baggies!!  Use Flat-Rate shipping boxes if you can!  Baked goods should go in Vaccuum seal baggies!
WARNINGS: Chocolate will probably melt, so make sure it’s in a baggy by itself if you use it. Soda also has the risk of exploding from extreme heat/cold, so stick to plastic bottles.
REMEMBER: Holidays aren’t just a number on the calendar.  Give your soldier the best Christmas you can over there, then have another one when he or she gets home.  One of the best parts of this life is that you can have as many holidays a year you want.  And if you have kids, how stoked will they be that they get to have Christmas twice??

And of course, to get it there on time: Check the post-it-by deadlines

Happy Holidays!!


SOURCES/OTHER IDEAS:
USAA
US Air Force
SpouseBuzz.com (military spouse network)
My Army Strong Pinterest Board - for other ideas on making lemonade out of the Military Life

Food Photo Games: Roasted Cauliflower Soup

CONFESSION: I haven’t blogged in seven months.  *hangs head in shame* The truth is, I sat down at least a dozen times trying to think up something warm and fuzzy to write about.  Alas, this summer was a hideous black cloud of rain.  Literally.  Fort Lewis is no tropical paradise.



Still, I’m perfectly aware that I’m probably one of the luckiest people on the planet.  I have wonderful, caring parents who are endlessly supportive, and a boyfriend who makes me laugh (mostly at him) and reminds me of the joy in every day.

I know, I know.  Finish your barfing noises and come back when you’re ready.

Good? Good.  So the above portions of spectacular support and love birthed this beautiful baby - a brand spankin’ new camera.  Which I had to play with.  Immediately.   Which means whatever is available to me must fall victim to the glass.

Since Matt has two states of being - (1) at work and (2) catatonic, and he wouldn't appreciate me posting a million photos of him zonked out, this means the only available victim is food.

I’ve had this recipe floating around from this blog I read, Two Peas and Their Pod.  The writer/cook/spectacular food photog swears up and down that people who don’t like cauliflower will even like this vegetarian soup she made - out of cauliflower.  I was skeptical.  But, I have been trying to give people the chance to pleasantly impress me.

And she did.

Guys.  This soup.  Whole.  Ee. Crap.  Creamy, warm, comforting, cheesy goodness.  Of course, Matt and I aren’t vegetarians.  And I’m pretty sure that at the very least, if I tried to convince Matt to go vegetarian with me, he might trade me in for a new car.  So I made some alterations.  But I’ll have you know that the original is hers.  And you can find the vegetarian version here (she actually measured mostly, which I don’t do.  It’s a hereditary problem.  We’re allergic to measuring utensils).  Mine is NOT vegetarian-friendly, and I used what I had on hand - translating to no fresh herbs.

MY version will embark very vaguely, with the wonderful low-light capabilities of my shiny new Nikon D600.  My flash is, of course, broken.  And our apartment complex doesn’t believe in things like windows and happiness, so the fact that the D600 can manage a 2000 ISO without submitting you to a horror of grain just makes me so happy I could go help myself to seconds.  I still claim no glories of having any variety of talent in the way of food photography. Some day, when the man I feed is actually home during daylight hours, and when we live somewhere with windows, I might put a little more effort into the sect.  Until then, hire me to take photos for you so I can buy a new flash (smiley face).

I started out with some on-super-sale steamer bags of cauliflower (four of them).  I tossed them onto a baking sheet (raw), sprinkled with olive oil (I really wish I’d had some PAM olive oil on hand - that would have been so much easier), thyme, rosemary, black pepper, and garlic powder.

I popped them in the oven at 400 for 25 minutes, checking on them halfway to make sure they were browning evenly.  Then I pulled them out to let them cool a touch.


Meanwhile, I cooked a half of a diced yellow onion with a LOT of minced garlic (I use the stuff in a jar) in a pretty healthy-sized pot (it needs to be big enough for all that cauliflower patiently waiting for your attention.  I’m guessing it was probably about a teaspoon and a half.  Once it was cooked through, I turned off the heat and threw in some more rosemary, thyme, and pepper.


Then I scooped up those gorgeous brown-edged roasted pieces of white mystery and tossed them in the pot, poured some low-sodium chicken broth over the top until about 3/4s of the flowers were covered.  Pop on a lid and tucker up the heat.  Then I sat easy until it boiled ferociously.  It didn’t take long for the cauli to be cooked through - fork easy.

If you have an immersion blender, I’m jealous.  I had to scoop them suckers (onions, garlic, cauliflower, and broth) into a blender in parts, blend it on low until smooth, and pour it back into the pot.


Then I let it sit pretty, pouring in chicken broth to thin it out a touch more as necessary, and letting the spices marry into the flowers and broth.  About a half hour before I was ready to die from starvation, I grated half a brick of white cheddar cheese (about a cup, shredded) and stirred it into the soup, saving some to garnish with later.  Then I tossed some sliced fungus onto the same baking sheet I used for the caulis with some chopped turkey bacon and roasted them at 400 for 10 minutes with some olive oil, garlic powder, and rosemary.


Let me tell somshing to jou! - Garnishing with a scoop of roasted mushrooms, a spoon of bacon, and a wee pile of white cheddar took a beautifully delicious soup to another level. 

Seriously, guys.  Go to the grocery store and buy some cauliflower (I never thought I’d say that).  I gotta admit, somewhere in the blending process, I was doubtful the pale creamy substance would be worth the effort.  But I’m definitely making this again.



After I buy an immersion blender...