All Hallows Eve (on the Horseshoe)

Happy Halloween, folks!

The apex of October has, for at least most of the last decade or so, seemed more like an epilogue than a climax. That obviously has more to do with our own Halloween Party, which every year detracts attention away from the holiday itself by absorbing all of our energies on costume-hunting, party-prepping, and house-cleaning/decorating.

Not that I'm complaining.

Another win for Southern Tier's Halloween beer.

As we've done the last seven years, we rolled in to the Johnson's residence for their annual Trick or Treat the Horseshoe party. The Horseshoe is the nickname given to the neighborhood compromising their street (Sweetbrier), Highbrook Dr., and Westbrier Terrace (the outside outline of the 'horseshoe' shape), and Greenbrier Terrace, Canterbury Dr., and Lawndale Dr. (the inside outline.) It's all self-enclosed, so super safe for trick-or-treaters and their families, and a lot of houses participate in the distribution of candy.

Not nearly as good as we had it back in the 80's and 90's, but definitely a few clicks above the usual.

Erik had a fire going and several chairs set up by the time we got there, with their garage emptied of vehicles to accommodate Courtney's buffet-style table set-up. Like we always do in this group, everyone brought food to pass as well as candy to contribute for the evening, but after a measly two hours of giving it out we still had a crap-load on hand (which is par for the course, honestly - we all buy too much, every damn year.)

This isn't an all-night rager, compared to our party last week, but it's a nice, chill time and super nostalgic seeing all the kids running around in costumes having the time of their lives. We were home and in bed by 11pm or so, and I did my damnedest to help finish off the half-barrel of Miller Lite that we had worked on at my house the week before. . . but we didn't quite do it.

So here's one, last installment of pictures from October, gang - enjoy. . .

Another appearance of the Wild Kratz

I don't know all of these kids, but Julianna is left of Ella, and that's Harper in the Minions shirt.

And the obligatory weird one.

Before all the trick-or-treaters set off for their two-hour odyssey, we were able to get one picture of all of them together in the Johnson's front yard. This took multiple attempts, folks.

Erik set up a TV by the driveway, which was streaming old horror movies from like the 1950s for awhile, before some big football game or something came on, then folks wanted to switch to that.

After I had consumed my required Halloween, fancy beers (I always save a couple for the big night itself), I switched to our trusty keg.

Folks hanging out and snacking in the garage.

The food spread.

Kids eventually trickled in, coming into the house to start the usual sorting and trading process (good to see kids still do this sacred tradition.)

Loading up plates.

Brandon, Holty, and Collier

Womenfolk, probably talking about something super important.

Collier, Tom and Mitch, watching the game (sorta.)

If there's anyone who shouldn't be playing around with a hatchet, it's Holty.

My wife is special needs, don't make fun.

Holty and his wife, Alicia.

Collier and Mitch

As the temperature continued to drop, the fire became more and more popular. By around 10pm most of the folks had taken off (this party is definitely more a 'swing by' for a bit sort of an event, which most people hanging out in the 6pm to 8pm window of trick-or-treating.)

Most of the night looked like this right here.

Selfies in Ella's bedroom.

Hey look, I'm actually in a picture.

Another Halloween in the books. We'll see you guys next year.

- Brian 

All Hail Kromdor III

Hey kids.

As you know, I go on two camping trips a year with my old high school buddies, both up at Trevor's family's hunting property:  one in the winter, when we stay inside the hunting cabin, and one during the summer, when we camp outside down by the pond. The other guys had started this traditional around 2013 or so, while Yours Truly was down in Florida, but since I've been back up in Michigan I've met up with them whenever possible.

This year, our annual summer camping trip just so happened to fall on the same weekend that my borther Bryan and his wife, Chelsey, were flying up from Tennessee and staying up at Eight Point. What has always been a weekend camping trip was consequently shortened down to one night, as I was double-booked, so I planned on bowing out of Friday and Friday evening and just popping in Saturday, staying all day and night, then returning to Eight Point first thing Sunday morning.

Sean works on this year's Kromdor for annual sacrifice. . .

So, like all of 2024 thus far, this year's camping adventure in the woods was a much more timid affair. Didn't help much that when I arrived to their campsite Saturday morning, all the rest of the guys were in rough shape - apparently they had gone at it hard the night before, so morale was a bit low. Also didn't help much that it was pushing 90 degrees out with barely a cloud in the sky, and out in the woods we didn't really have a lake to swim in, or jet skis to ride on, or anything like that - we just had to retreat into the shade and sweat as little as possible.

All in all, though, it was still good seeing the old crew, and we still kept hold of the usual traditions - cooling off in the creek, hiking through the woods, singing karaoke, and - of course - constructing and sacrificing the annual Kromdor totem at the end of the night.

Here's this year's summer version of Clare High School's camping venture (toned down substantially from previous years, 'cause 2024 and all.) Enjoy. . .  

Sean had mapped out his cut lines on this log prior to bringing it up, then painted it partially red, then started to hack away at it with a chainsaw

His daughter, Grace, Matt Lee, and Scrunge's girlfriend sat by and watched the master at work.

When I first rolled in, this is what everyone was doing. Some folks had run into nearby Rosebush for supplies (ice, food, beer, etc.), and some folks were still sleeping it off. I set up my tent and put my crap away, then joined the others to watch Sean narrowly avoid cutting his fingers off.

Some of the tents, situated along one of the many paths that zig-zag through the 80 acres of woods on the property (mine's the little blue dude second from left.)

One of the kitchen pavilions. There were approx. 50 or so people camping up at the property this summer (a lot of Trevor and Sean's relatives come up to hang out, and most stay the night), so we had multiple kitchen setups.

Couldn't find any other knife laying around to slice limes for my Corona, so I had to adapt and overcome.

He was at this for a couple hours.

Sean decided that Kromdor needed some spider legs this year (last year the dude definitely got some impressive limbs.) He also gave it sideburns this year because, as the joke went, because I didn't come out the night before they were modeling Kromdor after Yours Truly. Nyuck nyuck.

Kromdor III

With Kromdor complete, we all ventured down to the nearby creek to cool off - by this point in time the sun was at its zenith and it was absolutely hot as hell outside.

Scrunge and Sean's cousin (always forget his name) cooling off in the creek.

This giant tree had collapsed into the creek over the last couple of months, falling directly onto what used to be called Seanlandia - a little 'sandbar' of peddles where you could set up camping chairs in the river. Not sure how Trevor's gonna go about fixing this disaster.

Sweaty (I had already showered that morning, and had zero product in my hair.)

Brutus - basically the size of a mastiff with the temperament of a pit bull - explored up and down the river, biting at the water.

Dogs are dumb as hell.

Grace, Scrunge and Sean, soaking their bums in the creek.

Getting that wet in dirty water and not being able to shower off did not sound fun to Trevor and I at all, we sat nearby on a log and drank beer.

After an hour or two down at the creek, folks began to get bored so we labored back up the steep embankment back towards the campsite. On the way, we passed by the hunting cabin and found this familiar animal skull still chilling on the back deck.

To the left there is the outhouse we built last summer on this very same camping trip. Wasn't nearly as hot out that year, that's for damn sure.

The rest of the crew finally joins up with me after making their way to the top of the embankment (I'm one of the only adults at these annual get-togethers that exercises regularly and doesn't smoke, so I'm arguably in better shape then them.)

While we had been down at the creek, Kromdor had patiently kept watch over our fire pit, awaiting his inevitable demise.

Scrunge's girlfriend, Sean, Scrunge, and Matt, trying to cool off in the shade of the trees.

As we drew closer to dinner time, Sean and Scrunge set about gathering firewood (once you get the fire going it just makes more sense to have enough wood on hand to keep it going until folks crash at the end of the night.)

The giant woodpile we use every year.

Trevor is convinced, and has stated repeatedly over the years, that it's totally possible for one to walk across the length of this gross-ass pond without going under water, it's that shallow. Seeing how disgusting that would be - I'm sure it's like six feet of filthy muck at the bottom - no one's every attempted it since I've been coming here.

Trevor cooks his family up some pork chops (or something, I don't know - I wasn't paying attention and all meat looks the same to me.)

Primed and ready to roll for later this evening.

People - myself included - were falling asleep in their chairs most of the evening as the weather cooled off. A combination of having beers in 90 degree weather - and for the rest of them, being hungover most of the day - meant the energy and vibe of the assembled was much more chill this year compared to previous years. It was a struggle to stay awake as we hung out around the fire, listening to music.

Like last year, Sean brought up all his karaoke equipment, along with the McNerney family (despite having to run back to Clare to get the correct cords to hookup their computer to the speakers.) 

I didn't get nearly as many pictures and video of this year's performances, despite having nearly 20 or 30 people perform (they were at it for hours.) Like I said, I was falling asleep in my chair most of the night, wasn't feeling it this year at all.

Good ol' Scrunge.

Around midnight, it was time to sacrifice Kromdor to our heathen gods. . .

Wrapping the totem in birch tree bark helped it explode into an absolute inferno. . .

About an hour into Kromdor's death, some folks ventured out for the annual 'midnight walk' through the trees (even though by this point it was closer to 1am. That's usually my favorite thing to do, stumbling through the woods in pitch black, with no lights for guidance, but I couldn't physically do it this year. Me, Trevor, Matt, and most of the others just stumbled back to our tents and crashed, totally wiped out from the day's oppressive heat. Maybe next year will be a return to form, and not so, you know, 2024 and everything. . .

- Brian