Barry Smith: Irrelativity |

Barry Smith: Irrelativity

Barry Smith
The Aspen Times
Aspen, CO Colorado
Jordan Curet The Aspen Times
ALL | The Aspen Times

This time of year is not without its pitfalls – chestnuts roasting on an open fire (carbon footprint), Jack Frost nipping at your nose (restraining order), tiny tots with their eyes all aglow (reefer) – but the one thing I can count on to brighten up my holidays is the annual Christmas letter from my Aunt Faye in Mississippi.

Hi Y’all,

Well, lordy mercy, it’s been quite a year! Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep this letter down to 10 pages – LMFAO! The grandkids just taught me that. It stands for “Let MeeMaw (that’s what they call me) Find An Otter.” I’m not sure of why they think this is so funny, being that I’ve not had many dealings with otters, but they just love it when I write it, and I do like to see their darling little smiles.

I’ll start with the big news – our little Skeeter got his settlement! Y’all might remember how last year I told you that he was suing that movie theater where he worked after he got his class ring caught in the butter melter and was trapped there overnight. Poor boy had to eat popcorn all night long to survive. He just kept making fresh batches until the morning shift showed up. And he had to eat it without butter, cause otherwise he’d-a burnt his whole hand, bless his heart. (Huey told him that he should-a cut his finger off to get free, and then they’d make a movie about him.) Well, they settled out of court and Skeeter is all set to return to community college and finish up his degree in arc welding with a minor in economics. In five or six years time we just might have a college graduate on our hands!

Uncle Clem has finally got married. We’re all pleased as punch for him, and his new bride, Petrovia, is a great girl. Stout as Clem is, she’s still able to whoop him at arm wrassling! She’s real good at making pickles, too. Soon as she learns to speak a little bit of English I’m sure gonna get her recipe.

I know it ain’t polite to brag, but my cookbook, “To Grill a Mockingbird,” is now in its 5th printing! I did a bunch of revisions for this latest edition, taking into account the situation with the Gulf these days. I know it upset a lot of people, but I’m finding that the light coating of oil makes for an even deeper shade of brown when it comes to deep frying. So I worked that into some new recipes, like “Light Sweet Crude Shrimp” and “Vinegar and Oil Spill Salad Dressing” and “Slippery Pelican.” Look out Oprah – I’m gonna be on your couch one of these days! OMFG! (Kids taught me that one, too. It means “Our MeeMaw Fries Grits.” Cute, ain’t it?)

Well, Huey went and parked his pickup on top of the septic tank last month, the whole thing caved in, and he liked to drowned! He’s the one who dug the hole for the durn thing to begin with, I don’t know how he could forget about it like that. C’mon, Huey – WTF!? (“Where’s Those Fries?”)

Has anybody heard from Barry? Somebody told me that he was talking like a Yankee these days and that he’s taken to reprinting these letters of mine in the newspaper every year. I don’t know why on Earth he’d go and do such a thing! Gettin’ too big for his britches, sounds like. I hope he knows he ain’t too old for Uncle Satch to have a go at him with his belt. He always was a strange boy.

Some sad news. We had to put down old Buford. He was just gettin’ too old and could barely see and would get real confused. He’d spend all day standing in front of the closet door, howling like he wanted to be let out, then he’d turn around and make a mess on the carpet. It was a pitiful site. It was a hard decision to make, as he’s been in our family for as long as some of us can remember, and I know he was one of my favorite cousins.

Well, that’s about all I got. Drop me a line any time. I’d sure like to hear from all of y’all ASAFP (“As Soon As Feasibly Possible” – don’t know what I’d do without those grandkids keeping me up to date!)

Merry Christmas Y’all!

Aunt Faye

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