Randoms from November

Walking back from the Larson house after school. . .

And so we find ourselves at the end of another month, America.

November was frickin' busy. . . and abnormally warm.  Those of you who respect the knowledge of the worldwide scientific community could probably blame this in on climate change and global warming.

Those of you who are Republicans could probably blame this on Obama.

We Houghs really didn't mind the warmer weather, but towards the end of the month we were ready for the leaf-raking season to be over and done with, and embraced the colder temperatures when they finally got off their ass and decided to show up to Mid Michigan.  Looking back we definitely kept busy these last few weeks, and aside from the crap I've talked about before in previous installments this month, below is a list of random stuff that otherwise befell the Houghs 2.0.

Enjoy.

Abby reaches for some leaves to pull down (her vertical isn't quite there yet.)

Just like they did in the Primaries, the girls accompanied me to our local polling location to Vote (I had the day off, so we went up in the late morning and experienced no lines whatsoever- must've missed the before-work rush, thank God.)  Sadly, the Third Party candidate we were supporting didn't have a shot at winning, but we still wanted to show the girls the importance of backing the candidate you felt was the best choice, not necessarily the 'lesser of two evils.'

Fall debris on the back patio

Alayna had a sleepover with one of her BFFs from school, Madi.  Kris took the girls (along with Abby and her neighbor friend from across the street, Reba) out for dinner at McDonald's. . . all by herself.  I was lucky enough to stay behind and not deal with a gaggle of little girls in public.

Putting the kids to work.

Kris was in charge of Girl Scout Cookies this year for the troop she's co-leading.  I was obviously pretty cool with this gigantic stack of food in my living room.

Yes, that's in Sharpie.  Having kids sucks.

I was able to catch this dude with a telephoto just as he was making a mad dash across the street from the neighbors' house.  Homeboy really wanted that gourd.

Our lazy dog

We let the girls put up their Christmas tree in the basement the weekend before Thanksgiving, since it's not the main one and only serves as a spill-over receptacle for all the ornaments that we've deemed 'not cool enough' for our main, Hallmark-ridden tree upstairs.

(She's special.)

The not-quite-finished product (as you know from an earlier post, we bought a star for it this year.)

Picnics in the living room

We drove up for a Saturday visit to Clare one weekend, as we hadn't done so in awhile and wouldn't be around for Thanksgiving.  While we were there the girls busted out our old Bop It game (circa 1994) from the game closet downstairs.  The Extreme version was too much for the kids, but they liked the normal one.

Dad shows her how it's done. . .

Messy, messy guinea pigs.  Kris and I are starting to think we bit off more than we could chew with these furballs. . .

My shadow.

Breaking out the Christmas mugs (and that annoying Snowman that sits atop our toilet every Holiday season - the girls love him.)

Festive kitchen

Festive record collection

When Granny passed, Yours Truly took the opportunity to loot about six or seven car-loads of stuff from her house.  Among my plunder were three totes worth of Christmas decorations, including these Nutcrackers. . . which we had to ban the girls from playing with.

The Friday before Thanksgiving, as previously mentioned, is the traditional starting point for the Hough Holiday Season.  This dates back to when I had a week off of work at my old school in Orlando, and so our holidays technically started that Friday before Thanksgiving.  Staying true to tradition, I hauled up the many, many totes of Christmas crap - except for the totes containing Christmas tree ornaments, which we save until Black Friday - and had the girls help me set things up.

. . . so of course it ended up turning into a big, yule-tide fight between the two girls.

'Tis the season.

Due to the awesome warmer weather, I put the house lights up the second week of November, but didn't turn them on until Black Friday (as to not appear tacky.)  I then got to sit back and pity all of my neighbors, who waited until after Thanksgiving to put up their lights, and got to do so in 20-degree weather.

Another day, another girl scout cookie booth.  This time at a local K-Mart.

Abby and Susie

Our mountainous stack of Girl Scout Cookies in the living room and shrunk considerably. . .

Taking a break from some Holiday shopping at the Midland Mall.  Abby didn't know what this phone was all about - her brain couldn't wrap around the fact that it was plugged into a wall and you had to pay to use it.  I'm frickin' old.

Susie and Fuzzy, piggin' out over some Timothy Hay. 

Dinner and a Movie in the basement. . . in front of our not-so-big screen TV.

That's toothpaste, America.  Why did I take a picture of this, you might ask?  Because it's on THE FRICKIN' CEILING.  And Yours Truly sure as hell didn't put it there. 

First Egg Nog cocktail of the 2016 Holiday season.

Abby's troop, freezing their collective asses off at another cookie both (this time outside Family Video.)

No idea why everyone's so happy, here - it was freezing outside.

Abby's Sales Pitch

Huddle time

. . . and again at yet another Girl Scout cookie booth.  I'm SO done with cookies and girl scouts this year.

No idea where or when this was taken.  Kris doesn't help much with this blog anymore.

Alayna had a friend from school, Dani, over for a play date one Saturday. 

Kris and I bought ourselves some Fitbits this year, since we decided we're getting to the age where we need to start taking better care of ourselves.  Neither of us need to lose weight or anything like that, but we're definitely out of shape.  Motivating each other to get off our asses once and awhile can't be a bad thing, I guess.  She got the Alta and I picked up the Charge 2 (which has all the same features as the Alta, just with a bigger screen and a heart-rate monitor.)

An afternoon stroll down Raponos Drive with Dr. Watson

- Brian

The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. XXI

Time for another go-'round with some Holiday jammitude, kiddies.  Let's do this.

Album Title:  The Christmas Sound of Music

Album Artist:  Glenn Campbell, Ella Fitzgerald, Bobbie Gentry, The Lettermen, Sandler and Young.

I want to say, right from the get-go, that I have no f***ing idea where this record came from.  I really don't.

This had to have been in a bundle with other albums, either from a garage sale or else lifted from a grandparent in a giant cardboard box at some point.

These pictures really say it all, folks.

It's not like I went out to a hipster-ish record store, thumbed through some stacks of vinyl amidst stinky, bearded guys in their 30s wearing flannel and horn-rimmed glasses, only to stumble across this particular record and exclaim, "Glen, Ella, Bobbie, Sandler and Young- AND the Lettermen?  TAKE MY MONEY, HIPSTER RECORD STORE!!"

Yeah.  That definitely didn't happen (but can you imagine how disgusted those hipsters would have been if I had freaked out over this?)

Anyway, this record is. . . well, just terrible.  I mean it, it's terrible.  I don't even know where to start.  The background music itself is fine, I guess; I mean, if Bobby Darin or Andy Williams really revs your engine, you'll probably really love this compilation.  It's the easiest of listening I think in human existence:  quiet, no change in volume (all piano, no forte - this crap makes elevator music sound like death metal.)  In fact, this is arguably the least offensive thing I've heard in my entire life:  there's no possible controversy here.

Even the instruments feel as if they're constantly afraid that they'll be singled out and noticed, so they all play along in the background like sheepish children afraid to look their drunken, abusive stepfather in the eye.

There are some big names on here, I suppose, but none of them deliver anything worthy of note.  I mean, technically these are recognizable Christmas songs, but they're so dull and so sluggish that really this whole album comes across as forced.  As if the artists themselves recorded this in order to settle some lawsuit out of court.  Like, as if Glen Campbell accidentally hit the album producer's kid with his car when he chased a ball across the road, and instead of having to pay some exuberant settlement, the producer told Glenn Campbell he'd waive the suit if Glenn sang a few songs on a Christmas compilation he was putting together.

Then the producer threw his kid out in front of Ella Fitzgerald's car, then in front of Bobbie Gentry's, and so on and so forth.

If that kid's luck wasn't shitty enough after being hit with so many cars, he probably ended up getting a promotional copy of this album for his trouble, as he lay paralyzed in a hospital room unable to puncture his own eardrums.

I feel for this kid.

VERDICT:  2/10 - Reality TV  (The least offensive Christmas album ever recorded.  And that's not a good thing.)

- SHELVED -