Dry January?

 My plans for a dry January were challenged when I opened the fridge today to retrieve the half-and-half for my coffee and was confronted with this sight:  

It seemed wrong to dismiss an open bottle of fine champagne, and the Universe was clearly telling me that a mimosa was the right way to start off the new year. Surprisingly, I have resisted thus far. But it does seem like a shame. Can you even drink a mimosa after the sun has set?

The bottle was just part of the items left over from our semi-annual NYE fest. It's been such a "thing" over the years, that Alison threw her own NYE party down in Orlando. She reported this morning that only one of her guests had thrown up. The Captain, fearfully asked if the couch we bought her had gotten in the way of the disgorgement.

"Nope," she said. "Clean release in the bathroom."

No vomit made the scene at our house, but there were more than a couple of highlights.

I wore a top that I'd ordered for our Christmas in Florida but that hadn't been delivered in time and some pleather pants I'd found shortly before that trip. The Captain was appreciative but informed me, "You had the best pants until Andrea showed up."

Andrea did indeed show up in fine form, as did Bree and Amanda, all choosing a variety of black pants. Sequins and sheer stripes; sequins and some liquid-y looking tights for Amanda. Everyone was looking super fine, now that I think about it.

Someone had run across a Mexican adage that said if you were looking for love in the new year, you'd find it if you ate 12 grapes under a table as the clock approached and crept beyond midnight. No one had told the Captain, though, who was confused as he walked through the dining room to find Amanda, Andrea and Jen underneath the table. Upon learning their mission, he said, "Well, hell, make room for me!"

As the clock ticked and the ladies nibbled on grapes, someone shouted to them that they "had to manifest love" as they ate.

"If we knew how to do that, we wouldn't be down here," retorted Amanda even as she kept eating.

Time will tell what happens next. (Jeff got distracted or realized even if he got down there, the trip back up might not be easy in his state. He'd been imbibing a steady stream of champagne, bourbon and sips of beer that came his way.) He was due, though.  I was in the bottom tier of my fantasy football league nearly all year and didn't make the playoffs. After his draft, his team was ranked by ESPN as his league's worst team. Somehow he emerged victorious and won the whole thing. So he is a champion. If  you see him, you might want to salute. I know I will be. (Ha!)

It was a good group and a fine night. (I stole a few photos from Niki.) 

It was the follow-up to a somewhat excessive Christmas in between Miami and the Florida Keys with the whole of Team Reed. It was a departure from our usual trip to Maine, but good memories were made and I think we were all happy to be together without having to fight the cold. We had smoking mojitos and amazing meals, including a great Christmas dinner.

We were fairly active, taking an airboat ride through a small part of the Everglades, visiting a local park, Little Havana and driving down to the tip of the Keys. Our airboat captain was super informative and somehow twisted and turned us through mangroves and grasses and back to where we started, pointing out flora and fauna along the way. Ali and I have been looking for gators religiously since we first started looking for her grad school home earlier in the year without success. We finally found some on the drive down and then, of course, from the boat. It was a fun excursion. But nothing is better than hanging out with our little family. Another good Christmas in the books.