So I survived my annual family reunion.  Dad's side of the family.  It was a 5 day event, camping at one of Oregon's beautiful lakeside campgrounds.  My husband and I showed up for the last 3 days.  It was a beautiful drive.  We arrived in the early evening, pleasantly surprised to find my older brother had grilled a huge batch of marinated chicken for the entire family.  What a sweetheart.

It was all downhill from there.

My mother made an absolute ASS of herself that night.  My niece and nephew had choreographed a little dance recital with neon bands all over them.  Reminded me of a rave (ah the 90s).  I don't remember their playlist, but they had picked it out special for their dance.  Suddenly into the first song, my mother jumped up and started shouting PLAY YMCA!  PLAY YMCA! (she spends a lot of time on cruise ships).   She pounced on my brother's iPhone.  Ever the good son, he had no choice but to indulge her.  YMCA started blaring.  The kids kept on going with their dance (consummate professionals at age 6...Auntie Pam was so proud...of them).  At this point my mom had joined them onstage and was completely spazzing out, picking them up, trying to throw them up and down.  My dad's family watched in bug eyed horror (they're very low key).  There were a lot of hands on mouths and shaking heads.  One of my hot cousins came over to me.  That's your mother up there.  [sigh] I know.

My brother turned off the music and put his kids' playlist back on.  He actually said to my mom (in his nice way) no more.  The kids had chosen this playlist for their dance.  My mom sat down next to me.  What's in that coffee mug, mom?  Tea.  Just tea?  Yes!  Uh huh.

The next morning my husband and I had plans to get the fuck out of there and go to Bend.  We'd nearly frozen to death the night before and wanted to buy a camping heater.  Also, I had forgotten to pack toothpaste.  As we sat in our car in the Target parking lot brushing our teeth, a shopper walked by, looked at us, elbowed her husband and pointed.  They both laughed.  So did we.  We looked ridiculous.

Feeling slightly better, we continued on with our original, wonderful plans...a tour and tasting at Deschutes Brewery.

Their tasting room was an oasis.  3 sips (gulps) into my first IPA and I was playing grab ass with my husband.  We didn't have reservations for a tour and they were fully booked all day (July 4th), but they were kind enough to squeeze us into the next one, giving me 30 minutes to drink.

To start off, if you can find the entrance, both the tour and tasting are FREE.  So free, in fact, that they offer 4 free 4 oz. tastes per person PER DAY.  Yes, for free, you can get 16 oz. of Deschutes beer everyday.  I tried 4 different IPAs plus 2 of my husband's.  The other 2 of his 4 were their fresh brewed root beer and ginger ale, which were delicious and so interesting on the palate...like what you'd imagine they would taste like if they were made at the soda counter of a pharmacy back in the days when cocaine was legal.

My favorite was their Fresh Squeezed India Pale Ale, and  I was delighted to find out this is their current best seller.  (IBU 60 ABV 6.4%  $10-$12 per 6 pack)  Also worth mentioning...their Black Butte Porter is the best selling porter in the US.

With nice buzzes on, we began the tour.  Our tour guide was a happy woman with great energy.  As we started, she asked our group what we loved about beer.  People came back with the politically correct responses of THE TASTE!  IT'S REFRESHING!  Only I had the balls to say what we were all thinking...BEST THING FOR A HANGOVER!  The group cheered.  Cowards.

I learned more about beer on this tour than I have on any other, thanks to our very informative tour guide (and I figured out the reason for her happiness: all Deschutes employees are co-owners who are forced to drink a pint after every shift).

Deschutes Brewery is the largest craft brewery in the Pacific Northwest and 8th largest in the country.  If you love craft beer and find yourself in Oregon, THIS WAS AN INCREDIBLE EXPERIENCE.  And some of the BEST beer I have ever tasted.

Here's why.  Not only do they use the glorious water from the Deschutes River, the water has been burtonized (they add minerals to make it harder), to make it like the water in Burton-upon-Trent, England, where IPAs are thought to have begun or at least been perfected.

Story time.  One upon a beer keg, the English were having quite a conundrum (nothing changes).  Their beer was spoiling on it's long voyage to their troops in India.  Luckily hops, the plant that gives an IPA it's classic bitter flavor and aroma, are not only a natural antioxidant, they're also a great preservative (and a relative of the cannabis plant!).  They added extra hops to their beer, which allowed it to survive the voyage without spoiling, and the India Pale Ale was born...and the troops lived drunkenly ever after.  The End.

I also learned that Deschutes gives all their used barley grains to a local cattle farm.  The cows eat the barley, then Deschutes buys the beef from the farm and serves it in their fantastic pub, which we ate at after.  Confession time: I had a burger.  It was the best burger I've ever had.  Oh yeah, I went back to eating beef.  Later.

We returned to the campsite to find many of the elders had started drinking hard liquor.  I saw a large mint julep in my mom's hand.  Oh Jesus...  Against our will and better judgement, we joined everyone around the fire.  My mom made her way over and stood in front of us.  She was getting loud and sloppy, and about to start a long rambling conversation at us.  I said I needed to go to the bathroom.  Oh goodie!  Let's go together!  Actually, mom, I prefer to pee in the woods because that bathroom grosses me out.  I turned and saw my sister-in-law with her new toddler.  Miranda!  We haven't had a chance to talk to Miranda yet.  Come on honey.  I speed walked over to her mouthing HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME, husband in tow.  She laughed.  As we hugged and caught up, my 18 month old niece walked up to my husband.

Hi!

Hi.

She pointed to the ball at his feet.

Soccer!

No...football.  (okay he didn't say that last part, but he wanted to).

We survived the final night, both by the fire enduring the drunken pontifications of my uncle (until he went to the dark side.  My husband had us out of there just as my dad and his brother started a debate over whether or not I would ever come back to the family reunion.  Fucking Crown Royal), and sleeping in our tent, having been lent 2 goose down comforters by merciful, prepared relatives.

The next morning, as everyone was packing up and saying their goodbyes, Yoda actually went up to each relative and said his goodbyes, too, getting a pat on the head from each one.  He was the rock star of the reunion, with his adorable buzz cut and star spangled bandana.

Feeling a lot like Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss at the end of Jaws, my husband and I were quiet for most of the drive home.  Finally he spoke.

They get drunk and try to provoke you, and if you respond, you're the crazy, drunk one.

Yeah...and I always take the bait.

Well now you have me, and I won't let you.

My hero.

Aw...

I can't wait to go back to Bend.  Wasn't that a great town?

Yes it was.

You can go left, you can go right, all roads lead to beer.

Yes they do.

Hey...what day is this?

It's Wednesday...uh, it's Tuesday, I think.

You think the tide's with us?

Keep kicking.

I used to hate family reunions.

I can't imagine why.

[cue John Williams]