Headed north to feted (not fetid) relatives

By Laura Grimes

Joke's on Uncle The Pantsless Brother!Shhh! Be vewy vewy qwiet! Educational systems are done for the season in these parts and the Large Smelly Boys and I are hoisting secrets in the cargo hold and heading north.

JoJo is beside himself with anticipation to see Uncle The Pantsless Brother again. Daughter of Uncle The Pantsless Brother, otherwise known as Stinkerbell, is graduating from high school. By loose blog association, that would make JoJo and Stinkerbell cousins (she’ll be surprised to hear this).

Also, Mother of Daughter of Uncle The Pantsless Brother, otherwise known, by loose blog association, as JoJo’s Aunt Who is Mother of Daughter of Uncle The Pantsless Brother, recently celebrated a birthday. Yes, seriously, we have relatives to fete. We have feted (not fetid) relatives. We have serious fetting to do.

We know how to seriously fete. We have a law in the family. Whoever heads north or whoever heads south must pack a large cooler and stop here to pick up several dozen oysters in the shell. We have a big oyster bake with champagne and other sparkly drinks. We also make salads, but, really, as long as the melted butter is good and drippy, who cares.

Wait a minute. Text just in from Stinkerbell: “we have to steal my dad’s oysters thursday night. he hid my dinner tonight!”

That’s another part of the law: Look for every opportunity to hide someone else’s oysters. The Pantsless Brother is especially gifted at this part of the law. We’re not fond of his especially gifted at this part of the lawness. We look for ways to get him back whenever possible. This requires alliances.

The tales I could tell about our many stops at the oyster store over the years — everything from the not-so-Large Smelly Boys nearly getting caught with their zippers down to a giant tub full of 100 geoducks that squirted lazy streams like a Las Vegas water show. These two events, though unrelated, were very similar in their visual presentations. Ah, but a blog for another day.

The tales I could tell about our many oyster bakes, especially the unforgettable first one that started it all about 16 years ago. Teaser: It includes the word “bodacious.” Ah, but a blog for another day.

They’ll have to wait because JoJo is eager to share his secrets, he’s jumping up and down, and I have a cargo hold to fill. On the nights when feted (not fetid) relatives are not drinking sparkling beverages or dirty little secret martinis, we have other important matters to tend to. Unlike Mr. Scatter, who prefers wine and is undoubtedly lounging in a kimono in that little town some miles south of Portland known to locals as “San Francisco,” I am a bi-imbiber. Say that 10 times fast. I like wine. And beer. (And dirty little secret martinis but after the first few who’s counting?)

Since The Pantsless Brother and I hugged on an underground train at London’s Heathrow airport and parted ways last month, we have some catching up to do. Now it’s time to spread the love with the rest of the feted (not fetid) relatives. JoJo and I went shopping to prepare, and I let him do all the picking. He merrily skipped down the aisle ahead of me and was very excited to discover several friends to play with. He can’t wait to introduce them. Meet JoJo’s new friends. (Promise not to tell The Pantsless Brother, OK?)

Coney Island Albino Python



Duchesse de Bourgogne

La Chouffe

Stumptown Tart

JoJo seems especially fond of this last one for some reason. Must go hoist!

(JoJo, c’mon and help me load the cooler. … Yes, I’ll be sure she gets in the bag. … JoJo, over here. … Yes, I’ll make sure she’s wrapped safely. … They’re called breasts. … Be careful what you say. People are listening. … Don’t touch that. … JoJo … static)

Brasserie d'Achouffe: JoJo knows how to ride 'em high.