A Forced March

March is usually pretty similar to October around these parts:  every weekend is chock-full of social plans and obligations, while the weekdays drag on maddeningly slow.

My students this year, as much as I love them, have been driving me crazy this month.  Testing season is in full-force, and Summer is so far off in the distance that it feels like it's never going to show up.  Everyone is burnt out with school, and I feel like a slave driver constantly forcing them forward through curriculum.  Spring Break could have very well lasted two weeks this year.  I'm sure all parties involved would have been cool with it.

Aside from St. Patrick's Day, a slew of Girl Scout crap, play dates, and house-hunting, not much else happened.  My brother Chris announced he and his wife, Nicole, were expecting twins, I sold my first record on Discogs (a Pearl Jam LP) for a cool $200 (seriously), and. . . that's about it.

Check out this month's assortment of randomness from the Hough Family:

One of my students gave me this autographed poster from a concert he and a few other kids performed at with some rock and roll has-beens.  In case you needed validated proof that I 'rawk,' the guitarist from Boston said so.  Tell your friends.

Found this one day after a class left.  I should probably invest in some cleaning supplies at work one of these days. . .

New additions to the House clan:  Chris and Nicole's thumb-sized twins.

Found this old chestnut in one of my boxes of books.  Figured Chris has far more use for it now than I do.

Kris took the girls to Clare one day to visit her mom, so Yours Truly took the opportunity to kick some more ass in Mass Effect 3 -  a rarity these days.

One Saturday, taking the girls out to the Roll Arena for the afternoon (featuring a rare glimpse of Alayna actually rollerskating instead of playing arcade games.)

Abby racing around the track

One day during the middle of the month, Kris and I were dumb enough to take the girls out mattress shopping with us.  NO idea why we thought that would be a good idea.  Here's our kids screwing around on a mattress we didn't end up buying, at Dan Dan the Mattress Man in Midland.

Guess how much these animal-loving girls loved seeing this dead, stuffed wolf?

I picked this up for St. Patrick's Day. . . I'm a big fan of craft beer and Jameson, so I was hoping this shit would go together as well as Chocolate and Peanut Butter.  Sure, it was good, but not worth the increase in price from a normal bottle of Jameson. You could barely taste the difference.

St. Patrick's Day technically fell on a Friday this year, so here's the girls all Irish'ed up and ready for school.

There was a carnival at Chestnut Hill after school, so Kris took the girls back up to that and let them play a few crappy carney games while I packed up for our annual St. Patty's stint in Clare.  Surprisingly enough, Alayna won a cake in the cake walk. . . something Yours Truly repeatedly tried to do back during my Elementary years, but to no avail.

Healthy dinner.

After Kris and the girls returned from the Carnival at their school, we dropped the girls off with Mom and met up with Chris and Nicole at the Midland Center for the Arts.  We had bought tickets for a one man production of - no joke - the entire original Star Wars trilogy.  I had a quick tinge of anxiety when someone asked me which Star Wars trilogy I was going to see, but fortunately I was spared having to sit through some random dude interpreting the God-awful Prequels.  They even had Bell's Two Hearted on tap, which they served in a bizarre sippy-cup sorta thing, but it was appreciated.  In the end, the guy did a pretty good one man show of the trilogy (but the beer definitely helped.) 

More selfies with Mom. . .

Playing with Shopkins, surrounded by mountains of cardboard (we're still packing, and still looking for a new home - it's LOADS of fun. . .)

At some Girl Scout cultural. . . thing.  I don't know, I wasn't there.  Here we have the Cannonball along with two of her friends, Madi and Samantha.  I'm guessing they're playing the part of Guatemalans. . .

Es muy bueno.

Seloske gave me this in 2006.  As a member of the Pearl Jam Fan Club, he received merch from the band once and awhile, and they accidentally sent him two identical LPs of this, so he gave me one.  Had he known that the record was incredibly rare, he probably wouldn't have done so.  I only listened to it once or twice, so decided to sell it on Discogs.  Some guy in Colorado ended up buying it for $200, which was good news for both of us:  he ended up scoring a great record in perfect condition (the cover had a little wear, as you can see, but that's it) and I ended up with a decent chunk of change.  Too bad I don't have more of these lying around in the collection. . .

- Brian

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