Labor Daze

The Hough gals (Kris at right) on the backyard trampoline. . .

Happy Labor Day Weekend, America.

So this year we did the exact same thing we did last year for this Death Rattle of Summer:  we spent the first half of it up at our family lakehouse on Eight Point Lake, and the second half partying it up back in Midland.  The weather for the lake aspect of it wasn't as sunny this year (though it was warmer than last year, thank God), which convinced us to only stay up there one night instead of two, but we were still able to do enough up there that the kids weren't too bored.

We opted for a family bonfire Friday evening.

Following our overnight stint at Eight Point, we returned to Midland for the annual Collier party Sunday afternoon/evening:  just like the Houghs hold down parties for Halloween and St. Patrick's Day, the Colliers open and close ours Summers with annual Memorial Day and Labor Day parties.  This friend group runs that shit like clockwork.

So yeah, I'll leave you guys now with a brief rundown of yet another Hough Family Labor Day Weekend. . . the official Death Rattle of Summer.

Enjoy.

Playing a few rounds of Think n' Sync, a decent little card game that's good for when you're just sitting around and don't want to invest too much time or energy in a legit board or card game.

The following morning, we loaded up our kids and dogs - along with a couple friends, Ella (for Abby) and Cristina (for Alayna) and hit the road for the lake.  Before we hit the lakehouse, however, I had Kris stop off at the Lake General Store so Kris and I could pick up some drinks, along with some ice cream for Cindy and a treasure trove of junk food for the girls.  That store, admittedly, is pretty fun to shop in.  When we finally arrived at the lake, Abby and Ella immediately jumped into wet suits and hit the water.

Alayna and Cristina did too, just not nearly as energetic. 

These two logged some serious time into these kayaks.

They actually paddled about 40 ft off the shore for a decent distance down the lake and then came back.

When they returned, I took turns whipping the kids around the lake on the jet ski.  It was kinda windy out so Dad didn't end up taking his pontoon out on the lake this weekend, which always sucks.

Samson thoroughly enjoys the sand.

The Whites arrived shortly after lunch, and the girls not-so-patiently waited for Uncle Brian to finish eating so he could take them out on the boat.

Still kayaking.

Just in case you were curious. . . phones are still popular with teenagers.

Jill and Kris, cluckin' about mom stuff.  Probably leggings and wine or some shit.

Food of Champions right here.  Each of these girls downed a quart of chocolate milk in a sitting.  This will come into play later this afternoon, just wait for it.

Along with the chocolate milk, they also scarfed down pigs-in-a-blanket and about a pound of chicken/cheese dip apiece.  Just the idea of all that crap jostling around in one's gut makes me want to throw up. . .

So, immediately after gorging themselves on all that food, Brian finally caved and agreed to take the girls out tubing on the lake.  Keep in mind, these girls just finished stuffing their faces.

Pulling out of port, about to do some serious damage to a handful of girls (Alayna, as always, had zero interest in tubing and preferred to remain on the boat and watch.)

And so it begins. . .

Heading back in to port, after an hour or so of whipping little kid ass around the lake.

This picture right here says it all.  Both girls were nauseous and miserable, and shortly after stepping ashore both girls puked their asses off.

This is where they hung out the rest of the afternoon and evening.  Full-on recovery mode.

Beer Can Chicken.  An Eight Point Lake staple for the Houghs.

The Cannonball and Cristina

Dad and Cindy 'wrapped' a gift for Jax (we celebrated a Jax/Bradley combo birthday up here this weekend, to make things easier for everyone.)

It was on-again/off-again drizzling throughout the evening, so we didn't think the lake association would move forward with their plans for the annual firework display (which, like their Fourth of July one, are always better than most other local displays.)

Like f***ing London this weekend. . .

Kris and a couple dogs, killing time until it's socially acceptable to go to bed.

What had been a slightly boring evening was suddenly broadsided by a barrage of noise from outside.  The lake association decided to pull the trigger on the annual Labor Day fireworks, drizzle be damned.  And, as always, these fireworks rivaled those of even Midland.

The girls were appreciative to say the least (unlike some of the lake residents, who bitched about having to watch fireworks while it was slightly drizzling out. . .)

After the firework finale, the girls retired to their lower level for the evening and we adults settled into a documentary series on Hulu called McCartney 3,2,1, which was pretty cool.  Anything with Rick Rubin is bound to be good.

Morning over Eight Point Lake ('Merica.)

Abby and Ella were determined to kayak out to the Sandbar this morning - something that is quickly becoming a tradition for our girls, who knows why.

Fortunately they made it all the way out there and back without being struck by a dumbass boat motorist, so that's a win in my book.

After bidding farewell to my folks at the lake, we drove back to Midland, dropped Cristina off at her house and the dogs off to ours, then loaded up and drove over to the Colliers for their annual backyard bonzana.  Cornhole, it should go without saying, is always on the menu in this group.

The Three Amigas:  Ella, Sophie, and Abby

Ryan serves the hungry masses

And here's a crap-load of dads.  This is the entire group, minus Lonnie Big Balls, who had his RV out at some campground with the fam this weekend.

A couple different games going on here.

Kris throwin' bags

Ryan somehow ended up having a sliver of metal stick in his eye towards the end of the night, and nothing we could do could get it out.  It didn't hurt him, it just felt weird, but in the morning he ended up going to an urgent care and having it safely removed.  Still has no idea how it ended up in there, though.

On Labor Day itself, Yours Truly spent hours and hours grading, planning, and trying to get my shit together for the coming week (not something I usually have to do on weekends, but this year I'm the only veteran Social Studies teacher in my entire grade-level department, so I'm having to plan for four teachers this year. . .  loads of fun.)  Kris , however, tore up the entirety of our birch tree garden bed.  Finally.  She had been talking about it for years, but with the weather just about perfect for gardening, and a wide-open itinerary, she decided that today was the day.  She tore up all the plants, dug out all the weeds, then raked the bed level with the surrounding grass.  Next we're going to plant a bunch of grass seed and thatch it down well so that the seeds stay moist.  Hopefully, in a year's time, this will look identical to all the surrounding grass. . . and will become my new hammock area.

- Brian