This is awesome . . .

I plan to focus on the food — for sure — this weekend, but I won’t forget the reason we have Memorial Day to begin with.

Thanks to those who made the ultimate sacrifice in defending our country, we still have a country to defend.

Cartoon courtesy of Joe Heller/Green Bay Press-Gazette.

Super Bowl Sunday is a victory for meat eaters everywhere.

I love the day ’cause it’s an excuse to cook something yummy.

What’s that you say?  I don’t need an excuse?  Oh yeah.

Well, here’s how we spent the commercial breaks in the second quarter . . .

We may have missed a few great commercials, but it was well worth it. I already know which beer I want to drink and which hosting company to use, thank you very much.

Our group on this day was a persnickety one. So our marinades had to be kept separate. We had three distinct flavorings going on. Heaven forbid the Teriyaki mix in with the spicy Worcestershire bunch.

Just don’t tell anyone we used the same spatula to turn them all on the grill.

From the strips to the ribeyes, to the filets, our group was happy no matter who won the game.

One slight mishap did threaten to ruin the fun, though. That football in the top photo? Two minutes after that shot was taken, it was a major player in an incident resulting in an ice pack and some Children’s Motrin.

But that’s football for you.  You gotta be tough.

It was cold this weekend and we wanted something to make us feel better about being mammals and hating the weather.

What better than a hot, juicy piece of steak??!!

First, we clicked on our remote control fire (tres classy) . . .

Yeah, I said we *clicked* it to the “on” position. Carry on.

Then, we found some cool jazz tunes on the Sirius satellite radio . . .

We then began the marinating. Filet mignon in Worcestershire sauce, sea salt, ground pepper (and cayenne pepper for my spicy husband).

After partaking in some wine and reminiscing about the days when we thought jazz was for old fuddy duddies, the steaks were put on the grill in 25-degree weather. Outside.

I watched from the kitchen.

The end result was everything we imagined. Tender, juicy filets to warm the body and spirit.

We then scooped up the kids, put them in bed, read all about sea monsters and retired to the fire-lit living room with the rest of that bottle of wine.

No sitter needed. No dress code. And no tips.

Unless, of course, you count my husband reminding me to click the fire off as a “tip.”

Our evenings at home always far surpass the nights out in the elements because they’re custom-made just for us.

Perfect.