Back in the Mid

Well gang, we're home. We finally made it up and into the Mid... though frazzled, smelly, strung out, and spent.

From the bowels of Ohio, we managed to reach Mom and John's house just before noon, so we ended up making decent time up that last stretch of I-75. Lot of this has to do with the whole 'second win' thing: once you hit the Michigan border, and are out of that aforementioned crap-hole state, the drive isn't so bad anymore. You're on home ground, and the nostalgia of passing familiarity is more than enough to distract you from the fact that you've been on the road for two, horrifying days.


Mom's house has been awesome so far. Spare rooms were set up for both Kris and I as well as the girls, so that we were able to dump our luggage and relax.

Alayna got to play with a snowman, make some Christmas cookies, and engage in other seasonal activities that she was too young to enjoy last year when we were up. She's become a pretty big fan of snow since she's been up here.

...she doesn't have to drive in it herself, so that probably helps some.

My Grandma and Grandpa Chinery swung over from Saginaw and were able to visit with their great-grandchildren for awhile, which was cool (as they don't get to see our kids much), and we got to hang out in front of a fireplace throughout the day. Low-key and slow-paced, unlike the previous 48 hours.


Awesomeness.


Lt. Jeff and his newly-acquired wife, Annie, also rolled into town around the same time we did, so we were able to see him for a bit (though not for very long, as he had some crap luck with his flights due to that nasty weather the East Coast is dealing with right now). They had to head back out to Virginia pretty early, as Jeff can't be over a certain distance from Langley AFB for a long duration of time (however that works, I don't know), but a short visit with Maverick's better than nothing.


Abby finally got to meet Santa Claus, too... which proved to be a little more of a pain in the ass than we would've preferred. We took her to that Santa's House in downtown next to the courthouse in Midland (yes, evidently the beloved fellow resides in Midland, MI. during the peak season). A pretty cool set-up downtown for a fat, old volunteer dressed up like Santa Claus having strangers' kids sit on his costumed lap.


'Tis the season.


Of course, before we got to see this magical gentleman, we had to endure a hellish outdoor line through biting winds and freezing temperatures. The line itself wasn't so long, per se, but this ended up being somewhat of an optical illusion of sorts. Those brave souls that stood in line alongside us were really only the tip of the iceberg: they were, in fact, only those hardy enough to hold their party's space in line. As soon as they approached the front of the line, their numbers would swell, lengthening up the line as their much larger entourages emerged from their positions in nearby, heated vehicles.


Probably a smart move on their part, but it pissed us off not knowing how long the damn line was.


Anyway, it took about an hour before we finally got to meet Mr. Claus, and the result was to be expected: Abby was oblivious to the whole thing, and probably mistook the volunteer dressed up as Santa for me or Kris, while the Cannonball writhed and wailed in terror until she was released from his jolly, plump grasp. A few hurried pictures were snapped, if only to assure future generations that we were decent parents back in the day, if only for having our children sit on a fake Santa's lap during the 2010 holiday season.


Hooray for us.


I managed to dump off some records to Chris and Jeff this weekend, too. Both have recently taken up the celebrated Hough family past time of collecting vinyl LPs. Now, I myself love collecting records - love it - and, as you'll remember, recently got my hands on 187 of 'em during the Fall Hunter's Creek Community Garage Sale. After I picked out the ones I had, I boxed up the ones I already owned - as well as the ones I just didn't want - and brought them up in the trunk of the van for Chris and Jeff.

Surprisingly enough, neither one of them went for the Streisand.


We head to my Dad's house in Clare tomorrow, for this birthday, and then proceed from there onto future Christmas shenanigans with Kris' family, my Dad's side of the family, my Mom's side of the family, and ultimately our collective high school and college friends. This year's going to entail driving around a lot, shuffling our kids around like child traffickers, and constantly living out of suitcases, but it's a small price to pay in order to see all of our people and fully enjoy the holidays.

It's good being back in the Mid.

- Brian

Cold Weather and New Ink

Hey gangsters...

Well, we're safely back home after the Christmas Excursion up in Michigan, and are currently settling back into the normal grind that is life in the urban sprawl of Central Florida. I think it can go without saying that we were both pretty down about having to leave the snowy wastelands of the Glove State, but what we weren't expecting is to fly out of the cold, cold winds of Michigan, traverse the continental United States, and land in the cold, cold winds of Florida.

Seriously, people... its 30 degrees outside. What the hell is the problem here?!

So, as we continue to unpack and clean up around the house, we've got the heater on and are walking about in sweatshirts (in the tropics!). My monstrous cacti looked pissed off, but there's not much I can do for them by this point in time - they've already been exposed to the elements, so if they're destined to die, its going to happen anyway. I can't believe its this cold in Florida... is this El Niño (or La Niña, rather, if its a chick storm)? What about Global Warming or something?

I'm not a certified chief meteorologist like Channel 9's reliable, ol' Tom Terry (see jolly looking gentleman to the left), but I'm pretty sure 30 degree weather, for the tropics, is grounds for some serious eyebrow-raising.

Anyway.

I had some ink done with my brother Chris while I was home. This was something that was nigh on four years in the making, and we still didn't get everything we wanted done. Originally, Chris, Jeff and I were all going to get some sort of Hough brother tattoo done, but we haven't been able to successfully plan, design, and agree on any one design in the three years that have passed since we first hatched the idea.

Furthermore, lil' baby Jeffy's now joining the Air Force in March (I think its March), and apparently the U.S. Military has to clear all recruits' tattoos before folks are allowed to enlist... meaning that if he were to get new ink done with his two dumbass brothers, he'd have to postpone enlisting for another six months (which, for him, sounds about as awesome as hammering bamboo shoots underneath his fingernails).


So yeah... here's what I had done. The guy who did it, Jason Rhodes (owner of Intricate Decor in Mt. Pleasant, MI.), does great work and I'm so glad it turned out as I had initially hoped. I had the Hough family crest done, and it took probably four or five months of research and designing to get it to fit well on the inside of my left arm. The surname Hough traces its ancestry to 9th century Cheshire, England, where they were Saxon nobility. I found a couple different family mottos for the Hough surname, but 'Aut Pax Aut Bellum' (trans. from Latin, "Either Peace or War") seemed the most fitting for yours truly:


It was difficult working the design around my existing Gye Nyame symbol on my wrist, but Rhodes wrapped the scroll of the family motto around the side and I included one of my favorite passages in the KJV bible for perspective:


On the other arm, I decided to get the kid's nickname ('Cannonball') done in ancient Irish (seeing how both Kris and I have a lot of Irish in us). I went with a shamrock, too, as other traditional Irish symbols (pint of Guinness, a Shillelagh bashing in a Protestant's skull, etc.) might not be appropriate for a little girl...


Eventually, when the second kid is born, I'll get a design done for him and place it directly below Alayna's shamrock, and then eventually tie all three designs together in some sort of sleeve design. That'll take a couple years (and a couple hundred dollars, no doubt), but it'll look awesome in the long run.

Word. So there you have it. Yours truly had some ink done, its freezing in Florida, and nobody wants to go back to work.

Have a good New Year's, people...

- Brian

Teacher's Pet

i think its every dad's primary goal, as a parent, to raise a kid that turns out like the Fonz.

not necessarily by playing out to the stereotypical italian greaser typecast... i'm talking about in terms of coolness, here.

my own daughter, as it were, is not the Fonz. let's get past the part where she's not a greasy, italian guy and focus on the fact that she's not nearly fulfilling her 'cool' quota at school.

she's a toddler now, and has been in the toddler classroom at her school for a few months now. however, as it turns out, the kid doesn't necessarily 'play well' with the other kids in her classroom. she prefers - get this - the company of the teachers instead.

that's right. the teachers.

so we raised a teacher's pet.

not necessarily the coolest thing we could've done as parents. not only is our daughter a teacher's pet, but she also seems to get beat up in school quite a bit. now, i realize that these scrapes and 'owies' are the result of other toddlers getting over-excited when she comes into the classroom in the morning, as they do like her and all; what bothers me is the fact that she doesn't clock one of these kids back when they give her an overly-aggressive bear hug.

yes, she's smaller than most of other diaper-clad hooligans in her room. that's fine. being small doesn't necessarily mean you need to be pushed around.

look at yoda - that guy rips up bad guys for a living. and i'm pretty sure yoda and my daughter are the same size.

...of course yoda has the force going for him. i suppose i should get my daughter's metaclorian count tested.

- brian