Thanksgiving, African American Friday, and the Rise of Yule

Happy Post-Thanksgiving, everybody!

Voigts and Houghs.

Houghs don't take too much of a shinin' to Thanks-giving.  Perhaps you were aware of this.  Blame it on the Curse, blame it on what you will, but we don't prefer to acknowledge it all that much.  I'm sure it has a lot to do with the fact that we have zero family down here, and Thanksgiving is sorta centered around 'family.'  

Whatever.

This year, like we've done many times before, we had Thanks-giving over at the Voigt's house.  This was the first time we had done this in awhile, as last year Abby had a fever and the year before Alayna projectile vomited all over the van and the Voigts' couch.  

Good times.

Turkey head.

A Lions win?!  I'll take it. . .

No such drama this time around, though.  We ate early (around lunch time), watched the Lions miraculously seize victory (a rare occurrence, indeed), and were back at our own house by late afternoon. . .

Deeply focused on Brave.

. . . not this one.

Old people selfie.

Taking Watson out for a constitutional around the neighborhood. . .

It's been in the mid-60s this week. . . a lot chillier than we're accustomed to down here.  Though I guess I probably shouldn't complain about our weather down here. . . am I right, Midwest?

The girls take Watson down the sidewalk, while a G.I. Joe vehicle tears ass down our street. . .

Letting the dog burn off some steam (the thirty or forty feet I ended up running was the longest distance I've ran in probably seven years. . . is that about normal for folks?) 

Taking a breather.  Houghs, believe it or not, are not known for their athleticism,.

Quit starin' at my cheese stick, bro.

Only a matter of time before Watson nabs himself a cheese stick.

Thanksgiving, right?  Yeah, sure.

Tomorrow's African American Friday, but I can't write about that without wanting to tear my own face off.  I'm not sure if I can be friends with anyone who still actively participates in this crap.

Having said that, now that the last obstacle has been cleared from its bloated, shiny path of commercialism and destruction, there is nothing standing in the way of the juggernaut that is CHRISTMAS (*you need to scream this in your head while reading it*)  Our holiday shopping is basically done, our tree and decorations are up, are iPods are stocked with Yuletide jammage, the bar is fully stocked, and everyone in the house owns a Santa Hat. . .

Come at me, Christmas!!

- Brian