Category Archives: Family

Food pusher

I was raised in the South by amazing home cooks.

The food may not have been the best for us, but it tasted better than anything I’ve found in my travels.

We used to call my mother and her sisters “food pushers” because they were always encouraging us to eat more.

Another taste. Another serving.  Heck, in some cases, another meal.

I had a flashback to those food pushers this morning when I was sitting on the floor, trying to get my dog Rory to eat.

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When he rejected his wet food, I added chicken. When he tired of the chicken, I gave him treats. When he finished the treats, I handed him the wet food again.

Anything to get him to eat a decent-sized meal.

Old dogs are the best, but they’re not the best eaters. — Mama Dog food pusher

Not so quiet

My bucolic beach vacation received a jolt yesterday when I got up close and personal with a stingray.

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I was walking in kneedeep water, so I  didn’t see my attacker coming. But once I felt the stab, I did get a hand on him to pull him away.

It bled a bit, but hurt a lot. For three or four hours, it was pretty darn intense. Then it calmed down.

And so did I.

For future reference, should you be so unlucky, don’t pee on the wound. And don’t rush to the doctor  (although painkillers will be tempting).

Just make sure no barb remains, soak it in hot water, apply antibiotic ointment and leave it uncovered to heal. Elevating it seems to help, too.

And be grateful for friends and family who quickly gather round to help.

Beach and quiet

Things have been quiet around The Egg the past couple of days. That’s because of the view.

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We’re on vacation this week, so forgive me if my posts are a bit more sporadic.

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We may lose track of time now and then…

Carbonated cake?

I’m not much of a cake eater, but this ‘recipe’ has put me in the baking mood.

I found it on the Interwebs. Rumor has it if you have a favorite boxed cake mix on hand, all you need is a can of soda — instead of the usual eggs, water, oil, etc. — to make a perfectly yummy dessert.

Here are the suggested combinations:

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Game on.

Florida clan — this is on my list of ‘suggested dishes’ for our beach trip later this month. We gotta try it!

Words matter

Everyone should have an opportunity to read the closing paragraph of the Supreme Court ruling–authored by Justice Anthony Kennedy–that has changed our country for the better.

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Simply beautiful.

#SCOTUS #MarriageEquality

Ringside seats

I’ve never gotten involved in the online debate about whether or not to vaccinate children. Since I don’t have kids, I figured I would stay out of that fight (although I vaccinate my dog, so we can probably guess where I might land).

I have to wonder, though, if this TV commercial is making the back-and-forth even more heated…

Not only vaccinate your kids but re-vaccinate in their teens? The anti-vax crowd must be foaming at the mouth. But the ad’s emotional argument is effective.

Once again — staying out of it.

The music died

All the discussion of late around the Confederate flag brought the band Lynyrd Skynyrd to mind, since that flag is part of the band’s logo.

(I didn’t use that version here on The Sticky Egg because, um…no.)

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That led us to talking about where we were when we learned about the plane crash that killed half of the band members.

[If you’re too young to a) know who Lynyrd Skynyrd is, or b) remember the plane crash, move along.]

I was in bed asleep. The phone rang — a corded phone, no less  — and I walked down to my mother’s bedroom to answer it. A good friend of my oldest brother was on the line, and he was crying. I may have been young, but I knew a call that late at night could only mean one thing…

Someone had died.

We woke up my brother, who came to the phone in a fog of sleep. We heard him say, “Oh no. Oh God. Oh no.” Then he hung up the phone and turned to go back to bed.  We stopped him, saying, “Wait — what happened?”

He said simply, “Lynyrd Skynyrd died.”

I’m not sure either my mother or I knew exactly what that meant, so we went on to bed.  When we questioned my brother the next morning, he barely remembered the phone call.

But it stuck in my memory, all these years — the day Lynyrd Skynyrd died.