Randoms from the Month of Brian

Hi readers.

The epoch of summer, the Month of Brian, being formerly attribute to the late Gaius Julius Caesar, seventh month of the Gregorian Calendar, was a hodge-podge mix of calendar-clogging social obligations, family obligations, work obligations, house obligations, and days-long stretches of. . . well. . . absolutely nothing.  So goes the month of July in the annals of all things Hough.

Kinda like the months of October and December, where every weekend is jam-packed with a ton of shit going on, but then, during the week, we don't do anything but go to work/school and otherwise sit on our butts.

July, of course, has much better weather than the previous two, so it's got that going for it.

As you know, we moved into our dream home a month ago, so this summer - despite its ridiculous amount of previously-discussed obligations - was devoted to settling in, painting, unpacking, and picking up new home decor, yard tools, and other probably-unnecessary items for the new house.  This month's installment of Holy Randomness, therefore, is exceptionally random in nature.

Ye be warned.

The Study, first day of July.  Coming along quite handsomely, if I don't say so myself.

Kris had to work on my birthday (which fell on a Wednesday this year), so I was forced to take the girls with me when I decided to treat myself to an outing to my favorite local record store, Radio Wasteland.   I spent waaaay too long in this store - probably an hour and a half - taking my time perusing through each section of the store, so I let the girls play on my phone to keep them occupied and buy me as much time as humanly possible.  Here's a video of them playing Heads Up! on my phone (a charades game that takes automatic videos during gameplay.)

A modest $20 birthday haul, but these are all pretty sweet albums. . . and all in VG+/NM- condition.  Can't complain.

Dad and Cindy invited us up to Clare one weekend to hang out and enjoy their pool, which, obviously, is something we never say 'no' to.

Gorgeous weather for it, too.

Jeff, Annie and their brood showed up a little later in the afternoon. . . by which point in time the pool was thoroughly trashed with kids toys.

Nana and Abby.

Owen and Papa

Hanging out with Baby Levi in the shade

Our girls have to brush the bejesus out of their hair after swimming, or else it turns into nappy, bird nests.

At a work conference downstate, I got to hang out in a hotel room on my own for three or four days.  Needless to say, I don't know how to buy myself groceries without my wife around.

Remember when hotel rooms only came stocked with crappy, little 4 oz coffee makers?  I'm embracing the change.

When this nerd travels, you best believe he packs his Command Center. . .

I wish my bedroom at home looked like this. . .

So, our house was more or less perfect upon moving in, but that's not to say that there weren't a few things lying around that got under our skin.  The house's previous owners were obsessed with baseball, and stickers (yes, stickers.)  All the ceiling vents, any unfinished exposed metal, etc. - you better believe it was slathered in stickers.  And, to top it off, there were even a few giant wall decals to boot.  While most of these large decals were in the garage, and easily covered by posters or tool equipment, there's one in the basement (shown here) that is basically uncoverable.  You can't tell from the picture, but it's literally in the top right corner of the wall - we can't cover it with anything because it'd look stupid being so high up in the corner.  We can't tear it off because it'll rip off the paint along with it.  So, more or less, we're stuck with this decal on our wall until we decide to repaint the entire sidewall of the basement.  GO LOONS.

The Captain's Quarters, more or less finished for the time being.  I ran all the mood lighting into a light switch that's controlled by a remote, so I can alternate between the bright fluorescent shop lights and the Christmas lights/antique lamp lighting at the drop of a hat.  Because priorities.

I have so many swords and walking sticks now I don't have anywhere to display them, so they're hanging out here in this 'weapons rack' for the time being.

Don't kid yourself, America - you wish you had this room in your house.

One day about half-way through the month, while Kris was once again at work and I was once again left in charge of keeping the kids out of trouble, I took the girls out to Big Boy for lunch, as they had expressed interest in going one time as we drove down Saginaw Road.

These kids love pop.  (We're those parents that never give our kids pop.)

Abby tries a cheeseburger for the first time, and fortunately found it worthy of her time.

Obligatory post-lunch ice cream sundae.  'Cause that's how dads roll.

This is what the girls' playroom looks like on any given day of the summer.  Feel free to stop by and impale your foot on a Lego piece or Playmobil accessory, folks.

BFF playdates with Abby and Alayna's respective besties, Larkin and Madi.

Running errands out at Gilroy's Got It in the Do It Center over on Ashman and Cambridge.  The girls and I perused these Adirondack (or however the hell you spell that) chairs for awhile, but decided to hold off until we knew which color of chair wouldn't get us in trouble with the Warden.

Spent a decent chunk of change on a Persian-esque rug for the Study, but - damn it - I've been questing after this dream room of mine for years, so I'm not sparing any expense.

Got Granny and Grandpa's ukes hung up finally.

Wouldn't be a true summer without the girls trying to con the neighborhood into drinking their shitty lemonade. . .

We got some solid use out of this fire pit this month.  We're all big fans of this $100 investment, for sure.

A shot of the Captain's Quarters in the alternate, fluorescent shop-lighting.

The Living Room, coming along.

Another shot of the Study

This kid's going to be a handful in about six or seven years. . .

- Brian

Warrior Dash

What's up fellow out-of-shape Internet users.

About a month ago, my brother Chris texted me and asked if I'd be willing to do Warrior Dash with him towards the end of July.  His wife, Nicole, had been doing it for years and got him into doing it the last two years since they've been together.  Well, needless to say, Warrior Dash isn't the sort of thing a pregnant woman - let alone a woman pregnant with two babies - would be cool with doing, so she was out.  So was the other guy Chris had offered Nicole's ticket to when she decided to up and get pregnant after they had bought their tickets.

So he asked me.

And if you folks know anything about me, know this:  I'm terribly out of shape.

I'm not fat or anything, but I rarely exercise.  I'm on my feet all day at work, so during the school year I rarely feel up for running after wrangling teenagers for eight hours a day.  Granted, I ran a 5K the last couple years for St. Patrick's Day, but that's about it.  I honestly didn't think I'd be able to do it.

It took no small degree of convincing on Chris' part before I finally relented and agreed to do with him.  For those of you unfamiliar with Warrior Dash, it's a 5K obstacle course through the woods, where you scale walls, crawl through tunnels, swim across ponds, navigate your way through trenches, climb through water-spraying death traps, jump over fire, and drag yourself through mud under barb wire.  Endurance is definitely more important than strength.

Nicole hung out at the Finish Line and snapped a few pics as we made our way through the final stages of the course.  We were covered in mud and had to discard our shoes at the end, but fortunately Chris had snagged a few used pairs for us from guys he works with.  After waiting in line for a half hour to showever off the caked-on layers of mud we had accrued, we drove home and I promptly took a two-hour nap, thoroughly exhausted.  I'm definitely doing it next year.

I also was able to download a few pics some event photographers took throughout the race, so I leave you now with some photographical evidence of my day pretending to be somewhat athletic.

Rock and roll.

Clean and dapper, pre-race.  Note the lack of mud, sweat and tears.

The firs half of the course was mostly running through sand, through the woods.  There were few obstacles for the first leg of the race, but running through sand was absolutely brutal on your ankles - my joints were pissed at me by the end of the day.  There weren't any photographers in the first six or seven obstacles, but they had one stationed at the Fisherman's Catch, shown here.

Chris charges over the Warrior Roast in the home stretch, near the finish line.

I am all that is Man.

After the Warrior Roast, you had to scale a wall and then slide down this water slide - who doesn't love water slides? - before splashing through a giant mud puddle.

Approaching the last obstacle of the course:  Muddy Mayhem.

This wasn't hard at all, but it was obviously pretty gross.

Warrior Dash.  Vanquished.

Until 2018. . .

- Brian

Eight Point Lake '17, Pt. V

(and now, the thrilling conclusion. . .)

Monday

July 24th
"The Sandbar and the Exodus"

A questionable start to the day, but ultimately we lucked out with another  day of beautiful weather.  Kris ended up having to go back to work, so Yours Truly was on solo-parent detail until dinner time, thereabouts.

Today ended up being pretty chill for the most part, with not much going on in the morning at all.  Later on, in the afternoon, we decided to take all the kids up to the Sandbar.  The girls and I rode over with the Whites in their boat, while Bryan took Blake and his friend, Nick, in Dad's.

I about fell into that muck-trap off to the right, retrieving Bradley's ball: underneath those lily pads is about two-feet of mud and grime that sucked me in to thigh before I managed to scramble back.  That'd be a really crappy way to die.

Bryan's friend, Brent, and several members of his extended family clan were also at the Sandbar while we were up there, and eventually we were joined by Lucy, Dad and Cindy, who drove over to the Waites' cottage and walked over (they're located a convenient 100 feet away.)

Alayna, bored.  She's to that age now where splashing around in the water gets boring after five minutes.  Fun times.

(That's not a beer.)

Collecting rocks and 'shells.'  A lot cooler in Florida, I'm afraid.

Alayna, still complaining about being bored.  Bradley, bein' weird.

Cindy and Lucy

After the kids complained enough, Bryan and I walked the kids over to Lucy and Larry's cottage in order to smoke some cigars and let the kids play in the sand.

One of the coolest cigar labels I've ever seen.  Love the kukris.

A couple of lazy-ass dogs. . .

Heading out for another tubing venture.

This is pretty much how the rest of the day was spent.  The kids were pretty exhausted from playing in the sun all day, so aside from swimming and fishing, they pretty much just loafed around most of the evening.  I ended up reading about 1/3 of my four-inch-thick book (Aztec, by Gary Jennings) throughout the day.  Can't complain.

Monday

July 24th
"The Swan Song "

One, last tranquil morning over Eight Point Lake.

A lazy, liberal-leaning morning at the Cottage

Bryan had to fly back to Vegas in the morning, Kris was away at work, and most of the Grants, Waites, and Whites had - over the course of the last twenty-four hours - gone their separate ways, back to everyday life in the Civilized World.  The girls and I would be following their example in the afternoon. . . after we had ourselves one last day on the lake, of course.

My Command Center this week.  You know how I roll.

Taking the Whites' boat out on a leisurely cruise around the lake with my crew of Sprite-chugging miscreants.

Cleaning up the dock (not sure what the hell Abby's doing.)

I forget what this game is called, but Alayna loves it.  And the fact you get to play with Shopkins cards makes it all the more enjoyable. . .

Aunt Lucy, in the zone.

Some forced wind-down time after a morning/afternoon filled with swimming and boating in the sun.

Moana on a tablet.  This kid's in Heaven.

Paddleboatin' with Nana.  This is way too much of a workout for me - more power to 'em.

Cleaning up the offspring before reintroducing them into Society.

A last family picture (sans Kris) at the Cottage as we finished loading up all our crap back into the van, ready to head back home.  Until next year, Eight Point.

- Fin -