St. Patrick's Day (Observed)

Erin Go Bragh!!

The night before St. Patrick's Day
beverage of choice. . .

I know I say this every year around this time, but The Houghs truly love themselves some St. Patrick's Day.  Always have.  It probably ranks third - behind Christmas and Halloween - as our all-time favorite holiday.

(Having a predisposition towards Irish music, parades and booze probably helps that a great deal, I'm sure.)

Like last year, we felt it was a no-brainer to head up to Clare for its annual Irish Fest (half the state, as always, seemed to agree with us.)  This year Dad was in town for the weekend, so we drove up the night before in order to visit with Dad and Cindy before having to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn in order for Kris and I to run the Irish 5K.  After showering off, we hit up the parade (most of it, anyway), made a valiant attempt at purchasing a home, ran into some old faces in town, caught dinner with the DeBoer clan, pushed societal limits for having children in a bar full of drunks, and escaped a near-mauling from a pitbull.

All in all, a pretty successful St. Patrick's Day.

Check it out. . .

The morning of St. Patrick's Day (observed) wasn't very promising at all:  low-40s, rain, and plenty of slush.  Far from optimal running conditions.  BP was on the fence whether or not he wanted to run at all - his wife, Sam, opted against it - but in the end I nagged him into it.

The roads were pretty slick, so we walked a fair chunk of the race this year.  Dad and Cindy waited out in front of the Doherty with the girls in order to snap a few pics of us when we were actually running. . .

That girl in the white hat there is throwing us some serious shade. Who knows why.

By the Finish Line, which was located behind my old alma mater, Clare High School.

Signature arm pose, again.

Sweaty.

We added about ten minutes to last year's time, but in our defense the conditions were way shittier.

Hanging out back at the house, while kids and spouses showered and readied themselves for the Parade (which started at noon this year.)  I didn't want to go - again, it was cold, windy and rainy, and I knew the parade was going to be basically nothing but firetrucks anyway, but I was eventually guilted into it.

Kris' cousin Crystal's kids were in town for the festivities, having gotten a room at the Day's Inn on the north side of town.

Kris' Aunt Mickey was watching them for the weekend - we ended up hanging out with them during the parade.

Downtown Clare

Here's this dude.  I bet he's a fun conversationalist.

Old people selfie.

Mounties (I can't imagine these guys use these horses outside of parades - I hope they enjoyed their moment.)

This guy was cutthroat about getting himself some candy.  He's my hero.

Hey, look.  A firetruck.

Gotta give Sen. Debbie Stabenow props for having the balls to walk through Trump Country. . . 

Typical Cannonball picture

(We're freezing our butts off.)

Next year we'll have to remember to bring a grocery bag or two - totally didn't think ahead this time around.

It was cool to see an actual float this time - as sad as it is, you don't really see those that much in parades around here anymore.

We spotted the DeBoer's across the street, in front of the Hospital.  I tried hollering at BP for awhile, but he never saw us.

More Democrats running the Gauntlet of Deplorables. . .

Fabulous tractors. . .

Thug life.

The real Saint Patrick.

Even the people that deal with poop felt the need to take part in this year's festivities. . .

The Clown Band.  I have nothing negative at all to say about these homeboys.

Smokie the Bear.  'Cause Clare.

A rare display of sisterly love.

The sheriffs had to ride by a few times and tell the older boys here (who were from Farwell, so go figure) to back up behind the line.  Their regional upbringing prevented them from comprehending this simple directive.

I wish my car looked like that.  Minus the advertising on the side, of course.

Love the Star Wars theme, hate their beer.

Back at the house for lunch and a few beers with BP.  During the few hours off between the Parade and Dinner at the Doherty, I hung out with BP and put an offer in on a house Kris and I both really liked (the Lawndale House.)  Our offer was for $5k less than the seller's listed price, but we had a strong conventional loan with no strings attached, so our realtor had high hopes for it.  Unfortunately, we'd find out later in the evening that someone else had swooped in at the last minute and had offered more than the seller's listing price, which obviously was snatched up immediately. Needless to say, Kris and I were pretty bummed.

While BP and I had a few beers in Dad's basement and I hammered out the back-and-forth with our realtor, Kris took the girls over to visit with her Mom in Briarwood (Marcy was on some meds that caused swelling - she doesn't usually look like that.)

Primed for dinner at the Doherty Hotel. . .

The bar and hallways were packed with revelers, but the restaurant was eerily sparse and quiet.  We've gotten to that age where we prefer that over the former.  Getting old will do that to you.

Alayna brought along her camera, so we of course we ended up with a ton of pictures that look like this. . .

BP and his family were already there, so we just sat down and joined them.  I'm sure he appreciated having his salad well-documented.

Kris, as always, was adamant about getting her corned beef and cabbage, but she was sorely disappointed with the Doherty's handling of this traditional Irish dish.  It was pretty salty, and she grumbled about it the remainder of the evening (and rightfully so.)

After dinner, the Houghs and DeBoers adjourned to the Doherty's ballroom in order to check out some live music, have some drinks, and bump into hometown heroes.

Abby begins to get drowsy. . .

Dancing with the Cannonball.  By about 8pm or so we started realizing that there weren't a whole heck of a lot of kids around anymore, as the place began to fill up with more and more drunk adults.  Since we had a table and enjoyed ourselves we pushed it for as long as we possibly could (the hotel had posted signs saying no children were allowed inside the hotel after 9pm.)  The kids were both still up for doing stuff, though, so we drove across town to visit more with Kris' Aunt Mickey and the cousins.

We only hung around their room for about ten minutes or so, because their pitbull didn't like me very much.  The general assumption was that it had never really been exposed to adult males before - Crystal and Mickey are both single - so we decided to head back to Midland when it looked like the dog and I might have to throw down at some point.  I like to think I would have prevailed in that fight, though.

- Brian