Party on Cape Cod

It seems my in-laws have decided that if we come to stay with them, I need to "write a blog" about it.  In other words, it seems I am condemned to write a review of the accommodations (if not the company) of my various in-laws (insightful readers will recognize that I have no siblings of my own, so I have no such worries.  It is one reason, I say, to NOT have siblings.  Thanks Mom and Dad!)

I refuse to compare vacations with my in-laws.  Refuse.

So, what do I write?  Let's start with pablum #1 -- the classic sunset over the water pic, taken this past weekend during a quick visit to Orleans, which is on the elbow (as they like to describe it) of Cape Cod.

We were there for the annual party held by brother-in-law Butch (famed from these blog posts) and his wife, Peggy, who have a cottage there that is part of her father's property.  It is a mile+ (according to Google maps) from Nauset Beach.  A bit more on that later.

The party included a bunch of cousins and even Uncle David and Aunt Mary (the youngest uncle and aunt).  It was not a wild good time, but a good time nonetheless.  There was Butch's famous pork barbeque and either Budweiser or Coors Light to drink (if you didn't bring your own; some did).

The blog-worthy highlight were stories about Grampa.  Grampa John was born in Osterville (again, for the geography challenged, in the center of the Cape on the south side) and knew everyone, having worked first in landscaping, then in cranberries, sitting on the Ocean Spray board (it's a coop) for some years.

So here's the story worth repeating here:  Uncle David tells it.  It was winter and he was down to "the house" (a large place with a view of East Bay across the road) to hang out with Grampa.  It had been a cold night and then the tide went out on the bay.  The oysters clung to the grass in the cold as the water receded and Grampa said "let's go down and get them oysters."  David was out pulling off the second bucket full when the local Game and Fish Warden pulled up.

"John, you got a license to harvest those?"  Of course, like everyone around, he knew Grampa.

"No," he shot back.

"Well, John, you can't be taking them oysters then."  (You should be hearing a strong New England accent -- that's how David told it and Grampa had one)

"Nevermind that," Grampa said.

"John, really, you can't be taking those oysters."

"What are you, an idiot?" Grampa responded, seemingly with his voice raised a bit.

David said they had oyster stew that night.  Seems Grampa convinced the idiot that the oysters were going to die anyway...

That was Grampa. Not a man to back off or speak anything but straight.

That day and the next we went to Nauset Beach.  Here's the requisite sandy beach picture --

And, then, there was this -- kind of kept you from going out very far ( how many times did I hear "we're gonna need a bigger boat"??!?!?!) --

And then the 8 hours home.