The Last of 2015

The girls' first-ever snowman. 

December always feels like a speeding school bus on fire going over a cliff.  Seriously.  The period of time from African American Friday to New Year's Eve lasts about as long as it takes me to take a crap.

(Considering I have a magazine, obviously.)

This stands in stark contrast with the Ohio months of the year - such as August and April - in which nothing of great consequence happens, and consequently they last FOREVER.  You can ascertain as much by going back into our Family Archives and seeing how many blog posts emanate from they respective months.  December gets, like, a dozen or so posts.  There might be two from August.

I've included some randoms from this once-tenth month of the year (study up on your Roman history, America), as usual.  Seeing how we had so much going on this month, you're left with kind of a bizarre sampling, but enjoy it nonetheless. . .

Kris trimming Watson's nails.  We bit the bullet and finally splurged on a top-rated set of nail clippers off of Amazon, as we had grown sick and tired of dropping $10 every few weeks to drive the dog across town to a groomer's.  It's a nerve-racking process, and Watson definitely loathes it, but Kris has only spilled blood on one occasion. 

Chris and Nicole's Christmas card this year.  They have a thing for cats.  And sweaters.

Going a few rounds with Abby, who has made an attempt lately at learning this. . .

(Shows some promise, but I think it's going to take awhile.)

My old roommates used to wear Viking hats and chug Bud Light out of 32 oz steins on a Tuesday evening.  This is what my new roommates do (somehow not as cool.)

It's the thought that counts, kids.

Abby demanded this note be taped up on the outside of the fireplace, where Santa could readily spot it Christmas Eve.  We're all a bit weirded out with this.

The Cannonball reads one of her new favorite books, Aesop's Fables, to a classroom of stuffed animals before going to bed.  What seven-year-old doesn't obsess over a 2800 year-old collection of anecdotes penned by a Greek slave?

Kris and her mom, Marcy, shortly before heading out to check out the girls' Christmas Nativity pageant at the First United Methodist Church in downtown Midland.

Dad's 62nd birthday fell on a Saturday this year, so Chris (and his dog, Tucker) hitched a ride up to Clare with us, meeting Jeff and his brood there.  Here's the two of them holding down the kid's table.

Tucker's pretty chill, but Watson and Bailey had to be removed from the communal space during dinner, as they're too wound-up and loud to be around people eating.

Alayna and Bradley enjoy some candy canes (and back talk) following an awesome Buccelli's dinner.

Craft beer and school spirit.

Hanging out with Nana

Three dogs, even in a big house, is just too damn much. . .

These kids love themselves some pinball. . . even though they're terrible at it.

FINALLY.  We went and saw Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens on December 20th: three days after opening night.  In order to play it safe during this time period, I disconnected myself from social media, the Internet, and my smartphone as a precaution, fearing the inevitability that some asshole out there in Cyberspace dropping unwanted spoilers when I was least expecting it.  Besides Yours Truly, Abby was probably the most excited member of our family to see it (we're Star Wars buddies), so she wrote this note on our front door for the whole neighborhood to see.  We ended up arriving at the theater an hour early, which Kris thought was overkill, but proved to be a very smart move:  there were eight people ahead of us, and shortly after we got there the line grew until it snaked out of the theater and around the side.  As a result of us showing up early, we ended up getting some of the best seats in the house for the movie, which, truth be told, was AWESOME.  But that's a whole other blog post itself, honestly, so I'll save that for another time. . .

Look what I found on Netflix the other day - Pee Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special.  I grew up with this on VHS, but Kris didn't think it'd be appropriate for the girls. . .

. . . who knows why.  What's not to like about a talking chair, Little Richard, Charo, the King of Cartoons, and the one and only Pee Wee Herman?  I mean, it's not like the guy that played Pee Wee ever did anything that society would deem 'inappropriate,' right?  Right, America?

Deer in headlights.

As you all know, Old Man Winter properly screwed us this year:  no White Christmas to speak of, but shortly after Christmas, we get this crap. . .

Sure, it's pretty. . . but shoveling this crap (especially when it's all wet and heavy like this snowfall was) is a pain in the ass (and back.) 

Here's hoping this snow business only sticks around for a month or so.  That's about the norm up here in Michigan, right?  Guys?

- Brian

Revisiting 1993 (feat. the Clumsy Hough Girls)

Set your phasers for '' 90's '', America:  we're heading back to the Roll Arena.

For those of you not in the know, the Roll Arena is Midland, Michigan's premiere roller skating venue, and has been since, oh. . . who knows.  A looong-ass time, that's for sure.

Yours Truly used to frequent the Arena as a kid growing up in the early '90s.  Our family used to frequent the joint so much during '91 - '94 that, for me, it has become synonymous with early '90s Top 40 Radio.  The Roll Arena DJs would only spin Top 40 back then, and, evidently, nothing has changed.

Fast forwarding to 2015, I once again found myself sitting in the dark, blaring-loud rink, listening to Top 40 pop crappiness accompanied by the shrieks of overly-excited children.  Only now, of course, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch has been replaced by. . . God knows what.

I don't listen to shallow dance pop music, so I couldn't tell you who sings what.

The girls each received a free skating voucher for their excessive reading achievements earlier this month, so I decided to take them up there while we were all still on Holiday break.  We ended up meeting my mom up there, and the girls finally got to try out their new skates they got for Christmas.

It didn't go well.

Behold:

We always get suckered into renting a couple of these walker thingies whenever the girls go skating.  Our kids are inherently clumsy to begin with, so adding 'shoes with wheels' and 'low lighting' to the mix definitely doesn't help things.

New decade, same vibe (I still can't help but think of Salt N' Pepa or Boys II Men whenever I'm at this place.)

(It took them FOREVER to circumvent this track.)

Mom showed up after awhile, and joined the kids in skating around the rink. . .

(She's about as bad as they are at skating.)

This was taken seconds before Abby fell backwards, pulling Mom down along with her.  I'm really pissed I didn't get a picture of that. 

Abby ignores the DJ's pointed instructions for all skaters to move in one, general direction

Alayna eventually stopped skating on the hardwood track all together, and ditched the plastic walker in order to skate along the carpet instead.  She did this for the next hour and a half.

Good Vibrations.

- Brian

Gaining Holiday Waite

The tree at Dad and Cindy's

You know, sometimes I surprise even myself with some of these clever title choices*, America.

Anyway, the day after Christmas is generally the day the Houghs and Waites (my dad's sister's family) get together and celebrate the Holidays.  Not a lot of gift-exchanging anymore (all the kids are grown up now), but we do have our fair share of feasting and drinking.  And watching football.  Usually this annual event falls on the 26th, but this year - and I forget why, exactly, we had to do it on the 27th.  This more or less meant that we stayed up in Clare for the weekend, as driving back and forth from Midland every day is, well, pretty shitty.

So check it out, folks - this year's grand Hough/Waite Extended Family Christmas:

Morning of the 27th.  The calm before the storm.

As always, my kids were up loooooong before they should have been.  After watching their morning dose of Netflix, the Cannonball stopped in to Dad's office to assist him in his random iNerdery.

I can't wait to have a piano like this in our new house (when we buy a home, opposed to one like we're renting now for the time being - there's no way I'd move a piano on a temporary basis.)  Granny's going to be giving us hers, which looks more or less like the one you see pictured here.  This one was the one I learned on, and I really miss having one in the house:  the Cannonball took piano for about a year before we moved, and I myself took lessons for nine years or so.  Not a drum set, of course, but it'll do.

Kitchen colleagues (this being the one time of the year you'll ever spot Dad making something that isn't a sandwich in the kitchen.)

A good, clean work station.  The chef in his zone.

Sunday morning in Clare

The girls are taking a late-morning TV break (and, in a rare display of sisterly affection, they're actually snuggling.)

Chris and Nicole (and their dog, Tucker) showed up in the early afternoon.  They were swinging through on their way back from Traverse City, where they had been celebrating Christmas with Nicole's side of the family.

She's a sport to let our obnoxious children mess with her hair upon command.

More gift opening.

Papa and some of my dependents.

Shit's about to hit the fan.

Showing some team spirit for the upcoming Lions game.

When these three get together, all hell breaks loose.  Watson and Bailey get it out of their system fairly quickly, but you throw the passive Tucker in the mix, and suddenly the two more aggressive dogs start competing for Alpha Male dominance.

Abby calls a temporary ceasefire.

Go Lions. . . ? (Watson's taking a break from his canine shenanigans - that ottoman has proven to be one of his favorite napping spots at Dad and Cindy's.)

Another three-way.  You could fool yourself into thinking they were trying to form a conga line, but. . . that wouldn't be at all accurate.  Sadly.

Bryan and Lyssa

Superfans.

The Houghs, v.2.2

Lucy and Larry (and my cousin, Rachel) showed up in the late afternoon.  Here, Lucy attempts to understand the youthful obsession with Shopkins.

No idea what the lecture is.

In the library, enjoying some quiet (and Playmobil.)

After watching the game for a bit, I started getting bored, and so I found my way to our old Super Nintendo downstairs.  This gem here is Joe and Mac - one of our favorite SNES titles growing up.  

An Uncle Bryan sandwich.  

Following the game, the Whites made it over.  As it got closer to dinner, people started migrating downstairs for pool and pinball. . .

Girl talk

(That's a Sprite, guys.  Give me some credit.)

Christmas with the Whites

Grandkid table

The Uncles Bri(y)an snuck outdoors to shoot off a series of fireworks for the kids, which thrilled the younger ones, and consequently pissed off the neighbors across the pond.  Whatever - they suck anyway.

Another Hough family tradition

Things have gotten a lot more PG around these parts since everyone started pumping out kids.

With the Waite cousins (and their fiances) not present, and Chris and Jeff (and their spouses) no longer present, we were a little under-staffed for a full family blowout in the basement.  You can always count on these two, though.

By the end of the night, it was just me and Rowley, so we decided to play mad scientist with what was left in the parents' liquor cabinet.  The results weren't pretty.

Some of these bottles have been down in the bar since we were in High School. . .

He has good cause to be worried.

And as a nightcap:  Nerf guns.  'Cause it's Christmas.

- Brian

*  = If you didn't catch it before, I employed a play on words with my extended family's surname, Waite.  The fact that I had to just explain that joke kinda kills it, but. . . whatever.