Cauliflower Crust Pizza.. Cuz I'm sorry and I love you!

I always smile from deep in my heart when I find out someone actually reads these silly thoughts I keep in my head.. but I think of it more as a passing fancy or mild distraction from homework or dishes for them. So when someone comes to me and says a post is missing, I am shocked that anyone keeps that kind of track! Then when I notice I have 14 emails about a missing post, I want to give each of my 5000 unique views a hug for actually paying attention <3

Yes.. you will notice that "VigilAuntie Justice", my post about sticking up for people smaller than you and my recipe for Cauliflower crust pizza, is missing.
I would love to showcase some righteous indignation at the blogsite for deleting a post about doing what's right.. about being strong! About eating Pizza!!!!!
Unfortunately, your humble narrator has nobody to blame but herself...
I have a habit of writing up most of a post and leaving it in draft when I get caught up in work or when my computer catches a virus and I need to step away for a while... then I never get back to the draft and simply start the post over. VigilAuntie Justice was probably my 4th or 5th attempt at getting all of my thoughts out and in an attempt to clean all of my drafts off my list, I accidentally deleted it.

Now laugh if you must.. but I believe that one day there will be a cure for computer illiteracy!
Feel free to donate money to the cause (or donate money to feed my Peppermint Mocha addiction.. either way). Until then, please accept my apologies and this new and improved post about how to make delicious, grain free pizza =) =)

There are several ways to go about this, so forgive my lengthy post!

Ingredients:
1 head of cauliflower OR 2 bags of frozen cauliflower
1/2 lb of mozzarella cheese (plus more for topping)
1tsp garlic powder
1tsp oregano
1 tsp basil
1 egg

If using fresh cauliflower, chop roughly before steaming. ****If you want to make your crust EXTRA special, you can use aromatics in your steam water. For instance, I throw a handful of fresh rosemary into the water before steaming the cauliflower if I'm making Greek pizza... Some fresh lavender and a few cloves if I'm making Indian pizza
Once cauliflower is tender, set aside in a colander to drain off as much liquid as possible.

Use this time to grate your cheese. When I say 'Grate' I mean cheat and throw it in the food processor ;) You're going to be using it in a minute anyway...
Grate any cheese you will be using as toppings as well and set aside. 

Now CAREFULLY add your cauliflower into your empty food processor with the grate blade on top.


I like to lay out a clean bath towel and line it with paper towels. Carefully spread cauliflower onto your paper towel.

Fold towel over and press out any extra moisture with a heavy book.
Or....

Believe it or not, some people don't like Cavemen sitting on their food. I dunno.. to each their own ;)

Once you have removed all the moisture you can, carefully remove cauliflower from the towels and blend with 1/2 lb of cheese, as well as your egg, garlic, oregano, and basil.
Carefully line a cookie sheet or pizza pan with PARCHMENT PAPER... not foil. Not wax paper... I'm sure there is SOME amount of greasing your pan you could do to make your crust not stick, but I have not found this amount and simply opt for parchment.

I personally prefer to form individual sized crusts, as it gives each of your guests the opportunity to build their own perfect pizza.. It also gives you the option to make a double batch and freeze individual crusts once they're baked and have an easy, Delicious snack or meal ready whenever you are =)


Press the crusts out thin for crisp pizza and set your top rack as high as you can. Broil and flip (another reason for individual sizes.. you can flip with a spatula instead of having to use 2 pans!)

Once your crusts are broiled on both sides, top with whatever make you happy =)

Throw them back in the oven until cheese is melted and enjoy your delicious, guilt free pizza.

Thank you all so much for following along with me!
I do my best to always provide you with thought provoking entertainment and am so grateful for my followers! <3

Love.. of the heirloom variety

Abrabacon and I like to go to the farmer's market on the weekends.
We basically rob them of free range chicken eggs and grass fed liver and hearts to feed our dogs. 
We find hilarious hippies playing harmonicas for change and amazing little kids with violins.. squeaking out every 4th note or so.. making them no less amazing <3
We find tomatoes. The kind I'll actually eat.
I LOVE tomatoes.. but not hydroponically grown orange-red perfect orbs that taste like wax and water. 
I will only eat tomatoes a couple of months out of the year, and only when they're ugly.
Not ugly by my standard, mind you. But not uniform. Not symmetrical. Not beautiful by societal standard.
I like heirloom tomatoes.

They look bruised and have strange growths on them. Lumps and bumps where they don't belong.. 
And when you cut into them, they're a maze of thick flesh and random seed hotels. Tiny caverns in the most disorganized of patterns. The smell forces your eyes closed as you think of all the delicious preparations.
Your brain paints you intricate pictures of salads and sandwiches.. bruschetta with basil and blts made with mashed avocado instead of mayo.. <3

These delicious foods you'll never quite taste... this sweet bulbous mass will never make it to the cutting board. You've already begun sinking your senses into the homely fruit.. juice dripping off your elbows. Gums tingling with the acids.


That's ok. Save the recipes for that mess of hydros you can buy at the grocery store for next to nothing because they ARE next to nothing. The ones genetically modified not for taste or nutrition, but for aesthetic and it's ability to travel. Wax coated and never a flaw... For sturdiness, not substance.



And it's not just tasteless tomatoes that have had the real value genetically coerced out of them.

When the days of time travel finalllllly get here, make your first stop some time before the year 1800. Go get yourself a banana. When you ask for one, just go ahead and accept whatever foreign looking object is handed to you... that IS a banana. I know. Stop crying. I know... 
Or perhaps you'd like to know what a chicken really looks like?
Hint: Nobody should have breasts that big.
Which brings me to another point......

I have a crush on heirloom variety humans.

Not the ones who have had their flaws burned, sliced, lipo'ed, implanted, bleached, pinned, dieted, cut, molded, or squeezed out of sight.
I love a girl with a spattering of freckles.
I like a guy whose hair isn't gelled into undone perfection.
I like a head of hair that fingers can find their way through without fear of clumps of overly bleached or glued-on tresses finding themselves upheaved. 
I don't like spending time in groups of people who look like episode 7 of whatever tv show is on these days.. everyone color coordinated and wearing the perfectly tailored $250 jeans.
Not hydroponic people who practice their 'networking laugh' and their 'business flirting' smiles in the mirror every day. 
I'm in love with people who were bred for quality.. 
The ones with minds you want to cut open and enjoy.. not hide in a melange of other flavorless ingredients. 
The ones with perspective... usually different from mine. Ones I can argue with and they don't mind becoming passionate about a topic (Truly impassioned discussions look ugly.. red faces. Tears..) The ones who go off script. 


So.. my beautiful friends <3
I'd like to thank you all for being delicious.
For being bright and colorful. For not being afraid of maybe looking a little different.
For sillywalk parades and nutrient-dense nights full of something new. 
I love my heirloom life <3


So... You wanna do something besides eat those tomatoes like apples? 
Suit yerself!

Tomato Salad

3 heirloom tomatoes carefully diced
1 large cucumber, seeded and diced
6 oz feta cheese, crumbled
fresh or frozen mint (optional) bruised and chopped
2 tsp sour cream

Mash your feta and sour cream together with a fork until they form a creamy/chunky base
Add veggies and mint
Serve with Greek Meatballs or.. basically anything! Nom <3

Follow your Amygdala..

Rather frequently, I get random odd words stuck in my head.. liking the way they sound and rolling them around in my mind for a while. The word often gets stuck there until a new word takes it's place. For a long time, it was the word Ampersand. I imagine it floating through my brain, taking on the very shape of what it represents. &mpers&nd. I let it curl and flower in my thoughts until something came to shuffle it out of place and occupy that useless part of my brain which is relegated to clinging to random words...

Ampersand was replaced by Cloyyyyying. Cloying was replaced by Agelast.. which made me sad to think about, and therefore found itself lodged until I forced another word into it's place. I like the word Acquiesce... it's a beautiful sound for what it means.

Then one day, I opened a family sized bag of skittles to pour into a dish at work.. and the word Amygdala popped into my brain. I immediately knew why he found himself floating in my middle mind, rolling himself around.. looking for attention.

Amygdala.. his job is to connect emotional responses with external stimuli. Connect a song with the ex boyfriend who played it while I made him dinner. Now I feel wistful when Skinny Love pops up on my playlist.. or when I make rosemary chicken. The taste of the cinnamon gum he chewed just in case I wanted to kiss him too..
Listening to Glycerine as we sat in the car, watching rain fall on the moon roof, knowing we were both just waiting for the song to end... and for us to end.

Connect the sound of ice clinking as it melts in a glass to a warm summer night, fireflies, and lemonade. The taste of canned pineapple to the day I visited Schmom in the hospital after she had my little sister.. I climbed in her bed and she shared her tray of what could almost be confused for food with me as we gazed at the tiny bundle at her side.

Connect the smell of a family sized bag of skittles with the memory of the green candy dish I bought at my Aunt's garage sale.

It was ages old, and I was just happy to have a little piece of family history... and for only $1.25! Self medicating with the brightly colored confection as I spent my teenage years and early 20s suffering from insomnia.. Blindly prizing the sugary remedy from the dish at 4am while watching Undergrads and Home Movies. Years after the green bowl was lost (in a move... borrowed.. broken.. who knows) skittles still smell like 4am. Quiet hours to myself. Pre-facebook. Pre-Myspace. Delicious sweetness.

When the caveman leaves the lid off his supply of vinegar, which he does almost daily... my dear amygdala doesn't connect it with the thousands of times I've smelled it on his skin post-shower.. it brings me instead to those precious few memories of standing around the kitchen with my 8 siblings, tiny capsules of color dropped into a coffee cup filled with water and white vinegar.. box of Paas ripped open and tiny wire spoon already bent beyond usefulness. It's ok.. we'd use our fingers anyway. And Dad would bring in a white crayon to magically write an invisible message to us on the dollar egg.

Burnt toast will always be a morning spent with Schmom.. The coffee cup always felt so heavy in my 3 year old hand, almost too heavy for me to pull it to my mouth.. but I managed. Listening intently to my mother's side of the conversation she was having on her daily call to my grandma as I crunched on my burned toast and bacon sandwich.. melted butter collecting crumbs at my lips.. bacon tearing at the roof of my little mouth. I'd stare down at my baby brother strapped in his seat, hoping he admired me for being old and mature enough to take part in such an adult ritual as sitting at the table with our mother over coffee..

My attempts at purchasing clothes to fit my brand new awkwardly shaped body could be the beginning of their own memory, but alas. Each over-sized smock and loose waisted blouse smells like my first day of Kindergarden. A dark blue dress with giant roses splashed everywhere.. I would try to wear it every day for my first 2 years of school.. long after my skinny legs were too long for it to be an acceptable length. I simply began wearing pants underneath. It was among the first pieces of clothing that was MINE. My 6 sisters had never.. and WOULD never wear it. The taffeta layer beneath the skirt would leave scratches on nobody's legs but mine, as I refused to pass it down to my younger sister. One day, Erin finally got sick of looking at the threadbare piece of fabric I clung to so desperately and did away with it while I was at school. It was a mercy killing, really...

Amygdala.

I write it out with flowering letters. I make it tall and thin. I shade it, to give it depth and dimension.. 

Amygdala.

The memories of who I was. The scents that remind me that I am still that girl. 

The Cool Water that will always smell like my first kiss.. awkward and clumsy. The stubble on his face making me want to pull away, but being too shy to let him see my burning cheeks. Not knowing if I simply didn't like being kissed, or if I was just doing it wrong. Turns out, I like being kissed. Just not by guys who smell like cool water... 

A bottle of J'adore will always smell like my first date with the caveman. I wanted him to think of me as a woman, not the girl in a uniform and ponytail at the gym where we met. So I bought it. Citrusy. Delicate. Beautiful.. 

Perfect for a night of miniature golf and pancakes at Denny's.. 

Or the stick of Obsession Erin gave me to wear to school on Valentines day my 6th grade year. I was going to tell a boy I liked that it was about time he stopped acting like he wasn't in love with me. I chickened out. The Obsession broke in my backpack and spilled all over my candy hearts, which I didn't realize until I'd popped 3 in my mouth. Be Mine, Call Me, and You're Sweet will always taste like mystery.. and a chemical burn on my tongue.

Amygdala. 

Every day, my brain is exposed to these stimuli. How busy you are, drawing me lines and making these connections for me!

How much more will I love you when I'm old.. too tired to make new memories? When I lie in my bed and slide my fingers over pictures of my sweet Baby Boy.. these ultrasound pictures I already treasure so much. Pictures of his first day of school, smelling like new clothes and crayons. Pictures in his football uniform, smelling of sweat and promises. Pictures of him leaving for college, smelling like goodbye.

Amygdala. 

Such a beautiful word....

You're not the boss of me, Baby! And pancakes =)

As I stare at the shopping list I've been handed by the lovely lady of the house where I spend my afternoons, I am again reminded that I need to actually EAT something.. And it has to be FOOD. Stop writing eggs and lunchmeat. Stop writing 'fruits and veggies' on my shopping list and tell me what you really want. What the Baby wants... You have to stop denying him. When he makes you crave something, it means it's what he wants to eat.


This is a nearly constant scenario since I've announced my pregnancy. Increasingly frequent reminders that my cravings for hot chocolate with a 6 inch whipped cream cap and half a dozen chocolate dipped and chipped cookies are my baby's way of telling me how to make him happy.


I'm a terrible mother already for giving this child blueberries when he wants rice crispie treats dipped in molten chocolate and rolled in graham cracker crumbs.  He's telling me what he NEEDS.
My baby has a very severe Potato Ole deficiency. 

However.. the baby needs to start to understand something.. and hopefully all of the helpful advisors out there will read this and better understand my stance on the matter...

I don't blame my little half pound, half gestated womb-renter for my sudden urges to throw all of my nutritional knowledge to the wind. I'm going to gain a lot of weight anyway, why not do so deliciously?

See. This kid has the IQ of a negative 4 month old.

Well.. this is sure to be a very advanced member of the species.. so maybe the IQ of a negative 2 month old ;)

All the same. I'm pretty sure I'm in a better place to decide what he or she should and shouldn't be eating.

After all, when BamBam is 4 and wants to leave the broccoli on his plate and eat a piece of cake instead, I'm going to overrule. Why shouldn't I do so when I'm actually in control of what he eats?? I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I could make him like brussel sprouts...

I want to give this perfect little human every chance at being his healthiest, strongest, smartest self. I'm not going to accomplish this by feeding him all of the deep fried foods covered in Nacho cheese he seems to covet so strongly...

Also.

Pretty sure it's me craving it, anyway.

So I try to re-interpret these cravings.

   Wants:              Potato Chips

               Gets:     Root Veggie chips in TallowWants:                       Cake

                                  Gets:     A bowl of mixed berries in heavy cream

                    Wants:     Boursin with butter crackers
                    Gets: Boursin slathered potato pancakes
                              Wants:     Nachos. All of the Nachos.             

                       Gets:     Cottage cheese with green olives

                                                 Wants:     An oatmeal cookie with a glass of chocolate milk

                                                  Gets:      An oatmeal cookie with a glass of chocolate milk

Cuz.. well. Hush.

And when what THE BABY wants... or rather, when what his pregnant cavewoman wants is pancakes, Sir Abrabacon does the following:

Mixes

8 whole eggs

1tsp cinnamon 

and 3 scoops of Vanilla Whey Protein Powder (you may need more, so keep it close)

Continue adding powder until you've reached pancake batter consistency. Heat a skillet until a drop of water  beads up and then butta yo pannnn!

Cook em up pancake style. I should have to 'splain that part, silly ;)

And then top with your favorite pancakey goodness! 

I used heavy whipping cream (actual cream, not the stuff in the freezer) and berries <3

Mmmmmmm =)

A note on Mothers and flourless microwave minute cake

As I reflect on this, my last not-quite-yet-a-mother's day, I need to call attention to a handful of incredible, beautiful women who made me who I am today.


I will obviously mention my mother who raised 9 children. Who, at the age of 19 packed her infant daughter up and flew to Germany to be with my dad. Who, while pregnant, went to school to become a nurse. I love the story of how she studied while pregnant with me, delivered me on a Thursday and took her final that Monday.. as a pregnant lady, I can't imagine retaining enough information to remember what I went to the store for, let alone a nursing school final! I love the quiet memories of hiding behind the kitchen wall while she cooked, just trying to remember how she put certain meals together... an act that served her well a few years later when I took over the cooking and she came home from her 12 hour shifts to a hot meal. The day when I got in her car after school and she rushed me home, not telling me why. Commanded I go upstairs and change.. I have 5 minutes. Not knowing what I was to change into, but not wanting to challenge my mother, I took off. There on my bed... a pink leotard. Little pink shoes. Pink tights. I don't remember if we drove to my first day of ballet, or if I flew....

I will mention her mother... who was brave enough to raise her children on her own. Who worked as many jobs as she could get her tired hands on to feed her children, often enduring grueling physical labor working at the packing house for half (or less) than men were making for the same work. As tired as she was, she made a weekly date with her children to cuddle up in the livingroom and watch Creature Feature with a weekly treat of soda and candy. She would wake you up at 4am to have a cup of coffee and play Yahtzee. From Grandma Fisher, we ladies became stubborn and strong willed. We learned that excuses are for the weak, and we would never do her the dishonor of being such. She was our Joan of Arc.. the strongest woman in the world, and I see her every day in the actions of my incredible sisters. 

I think of Shannon, the captain of the Locke sister team. I remember a year, Shannon was newly single and had 5 perfect sons to feed, clothe, and keep from knowing things were tough. She could have worked a as a waitress and flirted for enough tips to keep the lights on... but she decided instead that this was the time to go to school. She worked so hard, staying up to study after a long day of work, school, running her sons everywhere, cooking, and keeping the house and laundry up... just to wake up bright and early and do it again. She never snapped.. she never pushed her sons away when they needed her and patiently, she got her degree. Those 5 incredible boys are such a testament to their Mother's strength and love.. One of them has graduated and moved out, another is graduating today. Brilliant, beautiful boys who I am so proud to know!
Now, after raising those 5 sons into teenagers, she has 2 baby daughters to start over with. She is the picture of motherhood.. and I'm so thankful for her <3










                                                      



Heather... where to begin???
She's my best friend. I've looked up to her since I was.... born. She is strong.. but she is so much more. I've mentioned her before, and I mention her often. If we've ever met, you've heard me tell you about my other mother, my sister Heather. You've heard me tell you about her taking me to see Frankenstein at the community playhouse. Or the time she tried to help me fix my overly highlighted hair by buying a box of red... I looked like the koolaid man! Then we ran to the store at 11pm to find a box color and HOPEFULLY fix it...  Or renting a cabin and bringing us kids out to make s'mores and go swimming. Taking us to Joe's lake, just to get us away. I'm thankful for Heather every day. 

Erin taught me everything I ever needed to know about how to perform an opera in the basement. Step one: Stand on the pool table. There are better acoustics up by the ceiling... Step two: Put a book on your head. If it doesn't fall off, you were not emoting. Step three: Always have a large pizza on hand. The grease.. uhm. Lubricates your vocal cords? And step three: The words aren't important. I hope these are the same lessons she's teaching her 7 children as they grow under her creative eye! 

My Little Lindsay.. Sweet little sister <3 She's always been a bit of a tough cookie. Not so mushy as myself. Not SO sentimental. Another hard worker. Determined and strong.. and then one lovely Christmas, she announces she's going to have a baby. This tough little cookie didn't give an inch of her strength over, but instead became the perfect example of how a person can be tender, loving, kind... but firm. I've never seen anyone look at someone the way she looks at her son. I imagine if a blind person wakes one day.. vision restored, just in time to see their first sunrise. Every day. 






I can only begin to hope that I can show the strength and love these women have taught me. I hope I can make them all proud of the Mother I will become.


I have so many other Mothers to thank... but I will leave you with this: If you've ever loved someone with everything you have.. if you've ever given over the 'best slice' or the 'pretty piece of cake' or the last of dinner to someone you love more than yourself.. if you've ever spent a sleepless night tending to a fever.. if you've ever worked yourself so hard you don't know how to keep standing... then remembered the sweet face of the one you love and found new strength... Happy Mother's Day. 

Flour-less Microwave cake! (perfect for your favorite Mama!)


Soooo easy... 1 minute to prepare


1/4 cup ground flax seed
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp cocoa powder
1 tsp butter or coconut oil


You could throw some walnuts in if you like.. mix into a coffee mug and microwave on high for 50 seconds.
That's. It.
You could get creative and sink a piece of dark chocolate into the center to make it a molten cake, if you like =) 

That's all I've got for you today.. give your favorite mama a hug and a cup o' cake today and smile <3

My tiny project that has kept me away... And a cavegirl goes colonial. (Butter)

Hey guys!! It's been a while =)

Many of you already know why.. but I'll get to that.

For starters, I delivered all of the donations to the Open Door Mission a while back and just wanted to update you on that... after about 2 dozen trips around Omaha picking up your clothes, food, and toys you were ready to part with (And a couple of group pick ups at the gym I teach at) and 3 trips in my little tiny Mazda to get them delivered, 1200 pounds were donated to the people who need it the most.

I was so overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends and loved ones.. and perfect strangers!!!

So with that, the LockeYoga food and clothing drive is closed and has left me incredibly satisfied with the beautiful people in my life. Thank you <3

This project filled me with joy and energy and determination.. so I decided to use that momentum to start a weekend project: Free Will Donation Yoga in the Park!

Simple idea.. coffee can at one end of my yoga mat. Throw in some pocket change or a couple of dollars and flow with your friends. Many people can't afford studio prices and still others just find the whole scene too pretentious.. this gives them the opportunity to pay only what they want to!

Plus, the atmosphere is amazing.. Zorinsky Lake is so beautiful! And the park nearby gives any children attending a place to play while their parents practice their asana!

I maintain this was an amazing idea.. but the weather didn't cooperate right away..

That's ok. Spring is fickle.. it'll work out!!!

Then.. I started feeling tired. 

So incredibly tired... that the back of my mind started telling me something was wrong.

Sometimes, everything would be just fine.. til suddenly I'd just become ill.

I didn't want to tell The Caveman how worried I was, so I just tried to sleep a lot.. 

I finally decided I would visit a doctor.

Not knowing how worried I was, Abrabacon handed me a pregnancy test.

Just to humor him.... just to make him stop teasing me.... Knowing it would be negative, I sulked into the bathroom.

Sooooooo.

Guess what guys????

=)

That's our tiny little cavebaby, BamBam <3 <3 <3 I love him/her so much!!!

So the theme of this blog might be changing ever so slightly... to that of a Paleo Pregnancy =)

As I sit here with my morning sickness bucket on my left, my Paleo Banana Bread on my right, and my Caveman fawning over my as-yet-not evident baby belly, I am so excited to take you all with me on this journey!

So I'll see you all Saturday morning at 10 or Sunday night at 6 for yoga in the park.. and until then, just a small recipe (since food sounds like an awful idea just now!)

Alright, so butter...

If you've been Paleo for a while, you know how important grass-fed butter is... and you probably know how hard it is to locate at your local grocery store.

However!!!

You can probably find grass-fed cream!

Turns out, butter is ridiculously easy to make. 

Ready?

Ingredients: Grass fed Cream.

Yup. That's it.

But here's where you can learn from my mistakes ;)

I poured my cream into this glass bottle and shook it like a polaroid picture... but didn't really think ahead to how I would get the butter out...

So my NEW recommendation is that you put your cream into a food processor or blender and just overwhip it.

When it's coagulated and begun to form chunks, you're there! Now spill this all out into a sieve or colander and rinse with very cold water (the liquid dripping out is buttermilk, so you can save this if you want to use it in other recipes later!) and press out with a rubber spatula.

And that's it! You've got butter =)

If it tickles your fancy, you can salt your cream before you begin whipping or shaking or stirring the living daylights out of it.. or you can add roasted garlic or pepper... whatever you want to season your butter with =)

Simply Decadent; The art of being happy =) And yet another pizza my heart (part 2 of 3)

I was thinking the other day about some of the odd places my little life has taken me.
I thought of my treasured Givenchy sunglasses (which I lost at a yacht party in 2005)
I remembered how worried I was to sweat on them. I also remember the party itself.. the last of it's kind I ever plan to attend.
I remember being excruciatingly bored and a little grossed out at the middle aged men who were hitting on me. I remember wishing we were playing sand volleyball instead of drinking high volumes of alcohol and having to pretend I wasn't starrrving.. I wanted a hot dog and to jump off the yacht to swim (Not allowed in my ludicrously expensive swimsuit, nor by the silly standard that had been set by the other *painnnfully thin* ladies of the party) I wanted to fish!
And then one of the waiters said something funny and I signed my high society death warrant.. by laughing.


That was when I came up with my little theory about class and happiness... 
But first, let's do a little visual product comparison, shall we?

This is an ad for David's Bridal.. one of their $99 dress sale advertisements.


When I look at this picture I think... this girl is pretty happy to be getting married!


She's joyful.


Glowing...

This lovely lady is wearing Monique Lhullier.




She looks... bored.
And maybe a little afraid of the dress itself, if not what it represents.




Shall we try another?

Cute panties, lady!


And cute smile....


Those are undies you can do cartwheels in.. you can wear under your clothes while you play sports or workout.


Those are skivvies you can laugh in =) =) =)










It would seem there is something desirable about looking morbidly uncomfortable.


She's not gonna sleep in that, you realize?


She can't.. she's too busy glaring at you.




Hm.


Let's try again.










Clinique Happy 


You know you're smiling =)




























Noticing a trend?






So from this, we are to surmise that the ultimate status symbol is a grimace.
Class is to be equated with boredom and misery and if you're smiling, you belong in the $99 dress sale with exhibit A.
And me...


Which sent me on a memory scavenger hunt. All of the times my ridiculous grin betrays my status. All of the moments that make yachts and Roberto Cavali seem cheap and contrived.


So here they are... my top 5 favorite nights. Ever. And always. The way I will spend my time no matter how much money I do or do not have.


5. Sipping on one of The Caveman's famous Chocolate Cherry martinis while we watch the sun set on our deck.. SashaDog and Juno playing in the yard and our summer station playing on Pandora.


4. Laying in bed all night watching movies, wrapped up in the one I love, a bottle of New Age on the nightstand and some takeout sushi close at hand.


3. The utter decadence of having chinese delivered to our home.. to likely be eaten with our hands. If I'm making someone else cook for me, there's no way I'm doing dishes ;)


2. Hanging out with Smalls or one of my nieces, mud masks cracking our faces into the ancient versions of ourselves as we paint toenails and sing along to the radio... loudly...


1. Sitting in a bubble bath having my love read to me. I like it most when he uses the voices or accidentally acts things out with his hands... =) 


And this is who I will be. No matter what... I'll never be a rich person.
A 6 figure salary couldn't change the fact that I know who I want to spend my time with.. and it's not someone twice my age and triple my gross income.
It's my family. It's my love. It's Sasha and Juno.. 
I AM Clinique Happy.
I hope you are too =) =) =)




Recipe time? Ok.. I guess so =)


Paleo Pizza! ~The Sequel~


BBQ Chicken Pizza... Nommmmm~


So you guys remember when The Caveman and I made Pizza a little while back, yeah?
Well.. not everyone is ok with a crust made entirely of cheese. No really! Some people have a problem with that!
So we present you with this alternative.... 
Cauliflower crust!


You will need: 
1 medium-large head of Cauliflower
1 large egg
1 cup of finely shredded Mozzarella (or your favorite cheese... it'll work, trust!)
Oregano
Garlic powder
Onion powder 


You can either microwave or steam your cauliflower until tender. Drain well! This is hugely important... leave it set in your colander in the sink for however long you like.
When as much water as possible has been drained out, throw your cauliflower into a food processor. Remove from your processor. Line a kitchen towel with paper towels and press cauliflower in towels until as much moisture as possible has been removed.
Return to your food processor and add cheese and seasonings. Press into a parchment paper lined pizza pan.
Broil on high until your crust is browned on top, then remove and CAREFULLY flip. Broil until the other side is crisp and top with your favorite pizza fixins ;)

We went with BBQ chicken... Abe makes his own BBQ sauce and if you're extra good, maybe one day you'll get the recipe for that, too ;)

Throw it back into the oven at 400 degrees and enjoy =)


Now that... is decadence <3