Ho Ho Ho!

Well, we've survived another Christmas with the Svec/Conway clan.  It's been a real rat race, and it's still not over yet!  After running around like two crazy ladies wrapping, shopping, decorating, cleaning, and being deathly ill, we are now relaxing (at 2pm) in our PJ's, or in Molly's case, still sleeping.  

I must say the highlight of the Christmas season for me has to be either:

1. Saying all the wrong prayers at Catholic mass this year because, since last Christmas, they've apparently upgraded what we're supposed to say.  Molly and I forged ahead with the old words, looking guiltily at each other when we obviously got it wrong.  After communion, we totally lost it and had a major laugh attack after my mom proclaimed that she was thankful I did not (even after her insistance earlier in the night out in the parking lot) run over the choir girl, as she was now sining a lovely version of 'Silent Night' in Spanish.  Pre-Christmas mass shots FTW.
2. FINALLY getting a gift I actually want from the grab bag, which was actually filled with a variety of desirable surprises this time around.  I would have been happy with the mason jar wine goblet glasses that I had during round 1, or the corkscicle I snagged toward the beginning of round 2, but in the end I took home the gift I contributed in the first place, and am now the proud owner of a very lovely creamer/sugar bowl set.  Merry Christmas, me.

I suppose it's worth noting that this was also the most sober Christmas I've experienced in years...between spending the 23rd/morning of the 24th with Rich's family and Molly being sick, I'd guess I made it out under 15 drinks.  Now that's a Christmas miracle, if I've ever heard one!

I'm feeling somewhat disappointed that I don't have any epic tales of Christmas family fistfights or tales of over-served family members to share, but I suppose that means we are getting more and more functional the older we get.  In the interest of keeping you interested in this blog and coming back for more next week, here's a little Christmas treat for you, in the form 1/2 of a Bad Holiday Poem:

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through the Beachhouse,

Several Creatures were Stirring, especially Hank

The stockings were Hung from the Window Latches with Care

in hopes that Mom would fill them with Toiletries, per usual

The children were drinking 43, already buzzed on Champagne

While visions of Oysters & Lobsters danced in their Heads

And momma in her pajamas all day, and dad playing with his iPad

Had just fed us spaghetti, for no one felt like cooking anything more complicated

When out in the back bedroom there arose such a clatter,

Meg sprang from the couch to see what was the matter

Away to Hank's cage, she flew like a flash

Threw open the door and threw up her hands

The sight before her eyes caused her to scream "NO!"

And the Luster in Hank's eyes faded faster than Snow 

And what to both of their horror should appear,

But Hank's cage collapsed, as apparently he learned how to escape from it

With the vigor of a young pup, so destructive and quick,

Meg knew in a moment he'd been acting like a total prick

More annoyed than ever, she threw Hank out in the Rain

And then put the cage back together, whilst cursing his name

END

It's really taking me quite a long time to figure out rhymes.  Long story short--Hank learned how to get out of his cage this weekend, and we had to wire him into it before we left on Christmas.  He wasn't allowed to come to the party after that stunt, and he was furious.  

Merry Christmas, one and all!  

Here we go...

Greetings!

We're off to a typically rough start with this thing, as I've already written and then accidentally deleted my first post.  It'd be impossible to recreate the genius hilarity a second time, so you'll have to live with what I've cobbled together here, instead.

This is a story of my family.  I live with my little sister Molly and our dog Hank in Pilsen.  We really dig Chicago, but we dig each other more (though our battles are pretty epic).  It seems that every day something bizarre and unbelievable happens at our house, and I'm documenting it all for posterity here on the Internets. 

Monday night, the Penthouse:

Molly and I have struggled lately to find time to hang out.  Molly's been working crazy hours at the pie shop and partying with the Brians (more on them later), and I'm having trouble adjusting to my adult schedule of crock pot cooking, pinning, walking Hank, and making it to bed by 8:30 so I can re watch the Twilight movies and catch up on Breaking Bad.  Accordingly, it was a small miracle when Molly and I both found ourselves at home at 6pm on a Monday, highly sober, and ready for some girl talk.

The usual subjects were covered: Molly's seeing someone new, but I've been sworn to secrecy and she's being stingy with the details. I'm nit-picking for issues with Rich because I can't believe how damn well things have been going.  We're both pumped up about our impending move to a new apartment that has both a dishwasher and laundry.  So over 4 glasses of Chardonnay (me) and cheesy ravioli (Mol), we proceeded to delve into the uninteresting minutiae of our mostly unimportant and dull young adult lives.  Meanwhile, Hank wrestled his doggie bed with the reckless abandon usually reserved for rabid animals devouring the flesh of their struggling prey, chewed the cable cords and rubber plant leaves, and trolled the house for q-tips or bits of paper to munch on.  All in all, it was a festive and cozy evening.

I'll be sad to move out of the Penthouse in a few weeks.  We've called this little apartment home for the better part of two years, and ever since Bridget moved in down the hall it's really felt like our little family is complete.  Nothing compares with miming silently to Bridge across the "courtyard" first thing in the morning with a killer hangover and the promise of Mexican breakfast looming near.  Or bounding down three flights of stairs with Hank at 4:30 AM praying he can hold it until we're outside.  Or shrieking out the windows at the neighbors to please, for the love of God, take the fighting down the block so I can sleep.  Or even politely asking the homeless man who feeds the cats in the abandoned laundromat on the first floor to please stop feeding them because they are multiplying and starting to take over the entire building.  The joys of urban living are truly limitless, and I only expect the hilarity to continue when we move 4 blocks west.

Before we delve too deeply, I suppose I should introduce you to some people and places I've been mentioning, on the off chance someone who isn't related to me happens to be reading:

Hank - 7 month old Weimeraner.  Exhibits completely psychotic behavior on a regular basis.  Only knows the words "sit", "no", "Hank", "bacon", "go in your crate", "down", and "out".  Needs at least 5 walks daily to be even remotely tolerable.  Is growing at an alarming pace.  Basically the reason we need to move to a bigger apartment, across from a park, on the first floor, with a basement we can lock him in during the day so we don't get evicted due to noise complaints.

the Brians - Two upstanding gentlemen that Molly and I have had the pleasure of knowing since high school.  They are now roommates, who live a short walk from our apartment in Pilsen.  They once joked about starting a cleaning company with a mildly racist name based on a combination of their two last names.  Today, Brian #1 works at production company and liquor store and enjoys whiskey and tacos.  Brian #2 works the graveyard shift at CVS and loves Hank and sweater vests.  They're both staples in our lives, and certainly always the last ones to leave a party.  

Bridget - Our cousin, and a real party animal.  She has a killer wardrobe that Molly and I both borrow from frequently.  She'll be moving in with us at the new apartment, which makes me just as pleased as punch.

Rich - If you've seen the YouTube video "Bro Science", you basically know Rich.  He's a real card, and pretty easy on the eyes, too.

the Penthouse - Our home.  This is neither a Penthouse nor particularly luxurious.  It's actually a pretty crappy walk-up on the 3rd floor of a 4-story building.  On the plus side, there's no carpeting, we have a killer view of the Chicago skyline out our front windows, and we can crawl out Molly's window onto the neighbor's roof for secret barbecue parties or to get drunk on our lawnchairs while watching the sun go down.  Not bad digs at all.

Welcome to the party!