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