Travels home

Ah family… you can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them. Or is it, you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. All of the above or something like that. I don’t want to go into too much into detail because I don’t want to be blamed for lambasting my own family. Lovely people, all of them really, but funny how the chemistries between us don’t always mesh, especially since we share the same blood.
I suppose I can speak for almost all of us when I say, “My family is dysfunctional”. I mean, what is Normal? And is it something that we want? Where would all the entertaining stories come from? And who but someone of your own family made you laugh until you peed or cried for the first time. The very few people who have made me laugh until I cried, I either share a parent with or I grew up with, whose parent scolded me as their own.

Mimi, my 93 year old Grandmother!

Isn't my Mom cute?
There are a few key players in my family story, but there are thousands of cast members. My immediate nucleus is the combination of two large Irish Catholic and Protestant, respectively, families. Each with their own self inflated Christmas customs and family traditions. Each has their own shocking discrepancies and comforting familiarities. And, oh, it gets exhausting sometimes trying to keep track of it all. Or more specifically, it’s exhausting to try to emotionally take it all in and accept.

So, from the Black Hills, Gabe and Baloo and Conrad and I wearily made our way to Sioux City Iowa. Some know it as Sewer City or Sux City or Suicide City. Whichever suits your level of discomfort. We stayed at my Dad’s house where he and Pat treated us to PBR’s and wine. They graciously gave my dogs’ free reign of the house and offered to keep them the whole time we were in Sioux City even if we were staying at my Mom’s house. The next afternoon, Dad (Rory, William, Mr. Kelly, Bill-if you’re clueless) made me his renowned spaghetti, ground beef a la carte for those of us who eat meat (which was everyone but me). It’s a little bizarre how much of my Dad’s spaghetti I can actually eat. It’s a little embarrassing and a little shameful. That evening we went to Mom’s house. Mom (Janet, Janny, Janetto, Ms. Kelly maiden name Lynn) and I drove in her brand new car to pick up Mickey. Mickey, full name Mackenzie, is my nephew – my brothers’ son. Mickey is a doll. But everyone talks about their small child relations as if they, specifically, were some religions’ gods’ gift to the world. I will do no different. He’s big for his age and will be tall like my brother. Bren’s a cool 6’4”. Big wide cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, delicately arching eyebrows like his mother Kaitlyn. He’ll be trouble in high school. He ran at me and jumped into my arms, called me Bridget and hugged tight. I struggled under his weight and the fact that his shoe had caught my skirt and was pulling it dangerously up, closer to my nethers than was comfortable. He and a group of some other of gods’ gifts showed me a Katydid they had found and were trying to feed some grass.

Gabriel, Mickey and Brendan playing video games in the man cave at my Dad's house.

My Dad being silly.
The stay at my Mom’s was interesting to say the least. Silly, poignant, annoying, fun, stressing, delicious, heartrending, exhausting, reaffirming. Brendan, my brother the grill master, made us some delicious steaks. Mom and I had tuna steaks. Mickey was naughty at dinner and cried when I scolded him. That night Mickey and I “camped” out in the camper. He was very good and listened as I read to him, only to interrupt to ask for a pickle. He laid out for me his plan of attack in case a monster came to show its ugly face. Surprisingly for me, Mickey slept the whole night and was cheery upon rising. Before we slept, I asked Mickey what he was going to dream about. He said he would dream about hot air balloons and how he would wave to his Daddy and Mommy and Papa and Gan’ma. He said that we should both dream about that. When we woke and were gathering our things to go back to Gan’mas’ house, he asked me if I dreamt about hot air balloons like we talked about and described for me what we dreamed together about. It’s one of those moments that makes family pretty awesome.

Dad and Pat had invited us for dinner with Bren and Mick one night and because of the guilt trip laid out by my Mom, we decided to stay another night. And with that extra night, dramedies ensued. Tragically comedic is the only way I can describe family dysfunction. In the moment, it is almost devastatingly awful. In ruefully looking back, it becomes either unfortunate or infuriating. And eventually, it becomes, if not funny, something that might be funny in a superbly scripted dark comedy. We should have just eaten our shrimp that night.

Mickey is actually the photographer here and for the pic of my cute Mom. Pretty good for a 4 year old.

Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my.

My first and only nephew. Man, is he cute.

Me, Mick and Bren. Family resemblance anyone?

That tree was planted in my my front yard when I was born.

A quick and merciful four hours got us to Kansas City, Missouri. We met Bridget and Dan at the best dog park I know of. They brought with them two of four dogs, Frank and Winston. Conrad and Baloo were in heaven and cavorting around their own stomping grounds. It was a butt-sniffing, ball-throwing, pack-running evening of dog bliss. (Shame on Chicago for not having a grassy 2-3 acre dog park in the middle of the city like Penn Valley Dog Park!)

At Bridget and Dan’s house, we shared some wine, gave our first real tour of the camper and crashed. The next day, we went sculpture and pedicure hunting. Gabe and Dan got some great shots of bronzy sculpture and after a long scouting, Bridge and I bagged some beautiful toes. That evening we had a late dinner of shrimps, creamy polenta, Coho salmon and grilled asparagus a la Dan. Shannon Payne and her friend Jason came over. We laughed over the old times. (Bridget, Jessica, Shannon and I all used to work at the Embassy Suites while in college. During those times, we participated in each others blow out parties, evictions and general rabble rousing.) It was great to see Shannon, who for your information, is doing quite well. And again, as in Louisville with Brandon, Ted and Sara, I’m kicking myself for not taking pictures! I had the camera out to get a picture of Shannon for the blog and in our good time, completely forgot! But it was a great time nonetheless. My only regret about Kansas City was Andrea being out of town, and not getting a chance to see Gigi. But alas, I have a phone and the will to visit again!

Bridget, the youngest sibling, easily the most accomplished.

Hanging out in the camper.

Conrad and Baloos' cousins: Charlotte, Frank, Winston, and Jake.

Wine makes us silly.

On the prowl.

Bridget and Dan's super cute house and jungle like garden.

And so, with Kansas City behind us and I-35 rolling out in front of us, we head home to Chicago. It’s with mixed emotions that we travel. It’s been a fast 5 weeks with so many stories and events that not even a blog authored by a jobless hack can keep up. It’ll be good to get home, but it would be just as good to keep on going.