Ummmm...Happy New Year?

Okay, I've said it before: I love crappy, gray rainy weather. But I'm starting to wonder if this is too much of a good thing. Tim and I racked our brains the other day trying to remember the last time we saw sun or blue sky. We honestly could not remember. It's been weeks.

So what else is there to do but sit around and eat? I am coming to the point where the Christmas cookies' days are definitely numbered. They are out of the house this weekend. That's it.

The good news is I've appeared to have gotten away with a multitude of caloric sins. After a month of partying and eating with wild abandon every weekend, my jeans are no tighter than they were at the end of November. It's almost a relief to get back to lean, clean fuel.

Of course I say that NOW after doing a few Tim Tam slams (I've got it!!), and then trying the same technique with hot milk and Mint Fudge Covered Oreos. It works. Beautifully *slumps on the couch in a sugar buzz*.

Saturday we took dinner up to the grandparents to celebrate Christmas/New Year's Eve with them and Scott and his family. I made the same seafood Newburg concoction I tried in October, but this attempt turned out better. Unfortunately, the answer to the watery, separating casserole I presented last time is fat. Lots of it. In the form of half-and-half, and bechamel sauce. That, and poaching the fish and scallops first to avoid all that moisture being released into the dish. A topping of buttered cracker crumbs on top (how can anything with buttered crumbs on top be bad?), and success!

I'm not sure if I can take perverse credit for any of this or not, but when we arrived, the sidewalk was freshly shoveled and salted. Tim nearly always has to attend to this as soon as we get there any time in the winter. The house was clean and astonishingly smell free. In fact, I could swear there was a cinnamon air freshener somewhere. The dining table was already set for us. Before anyone is tempted to wonder if our cousin did any of this, let me say: PROBABLY NOT. Did my inadvertent comments to my aunt a few months ago have some kind of fallout? Like when she knows I'm coming up, will I be wearing a white glove and inspecting the place? We were all pleased with the condition of things, and the fact that grandma and grandpa seemed to be in good health and having a relatively good day. But I hate to think that now I've got the rep as a buttinsky health inspector. My aunt says she's getting overwhelmed with working and taking care of things there. I'm sure she worked her butt off that day (and all the other days before, too) before going home.

There's no pleasing me, is there? I get frustrated and disgusted if their place is a smelly mess, but feel guilty if the place is ship-shape.

It was nice to see Tim's brother John and family up from Pennsylvania Sunday. We met for breakfast at Bob Evans, a place known for its hearty breakfast menu, and spent a few hours with them and mom and dad Reinert. It was great to see our niece and nephew open their Christmas presents in person. Judging from the happy whoops we heard when they opened the packages and then the silence as they looked over the books, computer games, etc., I think we did okay.

We left Birch Run and drove 2 more hours north to our Grayling friends. We enjoyed a smoked turkey dinner and an evening with them. We stayed overnight, had a leisurely breakfast of Rodney's famous French Toast in the morning and then headed off on our own toward the Petoskey area. The plan had been to do some snowshoeing, but showshoeing in the rain and melting snow didn't really hold much appeal. Instead we drove around the Bay Harbor area and poked around the shops in the gaslight district of downtown Petoskey. We never get tired of visiting this area. It seems like it's becoming more of a tony outlying extension of an affluent Detroit suburb, but if you get out in the countryside and ignore all the high-priced condo and marina developments, you can get a more genuine feel for the area. The Hemingway-esque kind of feeling that belongs to northern Michigan.

We ate 'lunch' at American Spoon, a place we never walk out of empty-handed. They had more free samples than I think I've ever seen there. We chowed. As expensive as their goods are, you almost feel obligated to snack your money's worth. But all their products are so incredibly good. I wish I could make my canned jams and jellies taste that vibrant. I don't think the guy behind the counter was all that happy when I admitted I had been making a copy of their chocolate fruitcake for years, after being inspired by it. Nope, that happy customer-schmoozing smile just kind of strangely evaporated from his face. As well it should, I suppose. I don't have the audacity to go around charging people $18.95 a loaf for mine.

Later we visited a place Tim had wanted to get to last summer but never made it there: Short's Brewing Company. We enjoyed their pizza and pitcher special. We ordered the hottest pizza we've ever had in our lives. Instead of using tomato sauce, they used Siracha. Topped with mozzarella, ham, pineapple and green onions, it was a delicious Hawaiian/Pacific Rim smackdown. But sweat was popping out on our foreheads the whole time we were exclaiming how good it was. So of course we had to finish the entire pitcher of beer ('Chocolate Parade'...a mix of half 'Chocolate Wheat' and 'Soft Parade' ale) to quench our thirst.

Tim's a big advocate for sleeping in our own bed when given a choice between that and a motel or someone else's house. Actually, I am too. So we drove the 3 hours to get home that night.

When we got up the next morning, it was STILL gray, gloomy and raining.

So I guess we just ignore what's outside and focus on what's in our heads, hearts (and stomachs!) and say it like we truly mean it: Happy New Year!