Return of the Shepherds

What's up, gang.

Happy Veteran's Day. . . I guess.  We're not doing anything to commemorate this 'holiday' per se - because I refuse to thank the military for their service unless they're defending us from a serious threat, which they haven't done since. . . oh. . . World War II.  We did, however, end up doing something completely unrelated this evening.

Our old friends, the Shepherds, recently returned to Midland to visit family, something they do once or twice a year, perhaps.  The Shepherds were once one of the ten or eleven families that were part of this friend group of ours, but moved out to New Jersey in 2019 when Pete landed a sweet promotion with his company. So, accordingly, whenever they pop back into our neck of the woods our group makes an effort to hang out with them.

This evening, they rented out an entire private VIP room at Valley Lanes - an entertainment venue across town with a bowling alley, arcade, laser tag, bar/restaurant, etc. - and hosted all of us (they are, well, pretty rich now.)  Five of the families were able to make it out for the evening - coincidentally, the Inner Five families, if you will - and we spent the night feasting, drinking cheap beer, and watching the kids bowl while catching up with our long-lost New Jersey compatriots.

Check it out. . .

We placed all of our food orders around 6pm - several pizzas, appetizers, wings, etc. - but it took quite awhile for it all to come out (they were pretty short-staffed.)

Abby, mid-flight

There were a few other families there that none of us knew - friends of theirs from Mt. Pleasant (both Andrea and Pete are CMU alums), so we didn't get to hang out with them as much as we would've liked, so our group just kinda hung out as usual.

The wives, cluckin' away as usual - Danielle, Kris, Mees, Kelli, and Courtney.

The dads just stood around in a circle and drank multiple pitchers of Miller Lite - par for the course with this group.

The pizza arrives, and the Cannonball wastes no time in loading up the first of many plates.

Wouldn't be a hang-out with this group without attempting to get multiple group pictures. . . 

The moms with Andrea. . .

. . . and one with one of Andrea's friends (not sure who that is.)

The Dads, feat. Pete.

After a few hours at Valley Lanes, we said goodbye to the Shepherds and, wanting to hang out some more, headed back to the Collier residence to have a few drinks.

Moms holding court at the kitchen table, as usual

We ended up having a wives vs. husbands game of Mind the Gap - a multi-generational, trivia game we've played in the past, and one that we dudes always dominate.

This game wasn't even close - Erik and I are pretty much unstoppable when it comes to trivia, so it came as no surprise that we absolutely slaughtered the womenfolk once again.  So ends another fun evening with our local squad.

- Brian

Summer's Death Rattle

How many dogs is too many?

What's up, folks.

Well, this is it, at long last:  the End of Summer.  What more or less began six months ago for the Houghs with the Collapse of Society due to Covid-19 - the beginning of a lengthy quarantine that just sorta bled into our usual block of months off - is now drawing to a close.  

This last week was our first week of school, and it went pretty good:  the girls returned for face-to-face instruction in their classrooms (wearing masks, of course), while Yours Truly taught his students remotely from his own, empty classroom.  Definitely weird, talking to a screen of muted students in an empty room, like some sort of crazy person, but it got the job done, I guess.

Anyway, Labor Day Weekend is the Last Hurrah of Summer, so we had every intention of cramming everything we could into it from the get-go.  A couple evenings out with friends, a trip up to the family cottage up at Eight Point Lake, last minute 'crap we need to get this taken care of' scrambles.  A four-day weekend encompassing all that is summer.  Gotta love it.

So here you go, gang - Summer's Death Rattle.  Enjoy. . .

Despite the chilly water and the outside temperature being in the low 70s, Abby insisted on swimming.  In her wetsuit, of course.

We rolled into the cottage in the late afternoon on Friday, after taking care of a score of errands and chores throughout the better part of the day.

The wind was ridiculous on the lake when we showed up, far too windy to take the boats out (as is evident by the windsock that's flying parallel to the water.)

Pizza kits for dinner.

Relaxing indoors (the wind was pretty bad in the early evening, no one felt like shouting over it.)

Bored dogs.

Some of the guys went out to the Duel bar in Auburn prior to heading over to the Tri-City Motor Speedway for the Friday races, and so Ryan texted me this pic shortly after dinner.

Here was my response.

I straight-up murdered this child in three consecutive games.  I've spent years honing this skill, I'm not about to let some fruit of my loins win just because she's a kid.  Screw that.

It was a board game sorta evening up on Eight Point Lake. . .

Miraculously, the wind died down pretty rapidly as the evening wore on, so much so that by the time the sun began to set we figured we could safely take the boat out around the lake for a sunset cruise. . .

Preparing for departure.

 

Want a gratuitous amount of sunset pics?  Of course you do. . . 

Hooking up some jams.

Definitely needed some blankets on this evening's cruise - the temperature was dropping pretty fast, it was chilly.

 

Alayna and Nana

Sailing the high seas.  (Should've worn a warmer sweatshirt.)

She's been obsessed with her current series of books the last week or two - some tween horror series that she discovered.  I'm definitely not complaining, I'd for sure rather have her reading than watching Netflix.

A rare moment of two sisters getting along with one another. 

Letting Abby steer the pontoon for a spell.

Kris is always cold.

Alayna's turn to drive.

We're not entirely sure how it happened, but towards the end of the night, after the girls (and dogs) went to bed and we had come inside and watching TV for a bit, we noticed a shit-load of bugs congregating along the ceiling above a lamp in the living room.  The door couldn't have been cracked more than a hair, so who knows how this even happened. . .

Pretty nasty business.

Dad made short work of them, though.

The next morning, Kris took the girls with her out to Harrison to visit her friend, Kim, for a bit.  I stayed back and accompanied Dad around the lake on the golf cart (along with taking care of some random errands/chores around the lake.)

A little cold for this kinda beer, but, then again, I packed terribly this weekend.

The Whites arrived in the afternoon, around the same time Kris and the girls returned from Harrison.  The weather had heated up a bit - still too cold to tube or wakeboard, though - so we just took a short cruise about the lake in Brian's boat. 

If it had been, like, ten degrees warmer out today it would've been absolutely perfect.

Meanwhile, our friends back in Midland had launched into the annual End of Summer grill-out over at the Collier residence.  Corn hole tournament, multiple grills, and even the Shepherd family was on hand (having driven in from frickin' New Jersey for the weekend.)  They kept sending me pictures like this throughout the afternoon and evening in order to motivate us to get back sooner.

Getting ready for dinner (beer can chicken, a cottage staple.)  Afterwards, we had a cake for Jax and Bradley (who are both celebrating birthdays in the coming weeks.)

Around the time we left Eight Point, Dad was out chasing seagulls off his boat canopy.  'Cause that's what you do when you have a boat.

By the time we got back into Midland, switched out our coolers, bundled everyone up in warmer clothing, let the dogs out, and got back in the van to head over to the Collier's party, it was 8pm.  By then it was dark, the fire was raging, and the tournament was over (we were all fine with that - I've had enough cornhole this summer to last a lifetime.)

The moms requested I take this picture of them.  Because, you know, they can't go ONE F***ING HANGOUT without having their frickin' picture taken.  I don't know if that's an insecurity thing or what.  Us dads definitely don't do that.

Segregated hangouts.  That's how we roll.

We did get suckered into taking one group photo (courtesy of the Cannonball, who was passing through.)

Brad brought his own grill to the party for 'meat snacks,' much later on in the evening.  That's the kinda guy he is, folks.

Enjoying some wind-down time out by the fire pit at the end of the night, after most of the other families had left for home.

Ryan's front door security camera captured the local police - who have nothing better to do with their time, apparently - writing one of the party-goers a ticket for leaving their car parked on the street at 3:30am (all because said guest was responsible and left their car behind, having drank too much.)  Figures.

- Brian