Cherry Popsicle Day fell on the same day as Dog Day so I invited Rascal to share one with me. Rascal would rather share a Jimmy Jones Italian sub with me, but hey – we are a family and support each other’s goals.
Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on the front steps eating a cherry popsicle with my mom. I noticed even way back then that while my popsicle would cover my shirt and hands in cherry popsicle juice, my mother never got a single drop on her… even when she cleaned me up.
My mother is never dirty, sticky, or spotted. Her tennis shoes are always white, and she keeps clothes staying flawless for decades. My dad is much the same way. His sweaters never have snags, his jeans are always creased, and he can eat ribs without getting a smidgen of barbecue sauce on himself.
Me? Don’t ask. Ok, ask.
The last time I was in Albuquerque we went out to lunch and Sopapillas were served. A real sopapilla is a pillow-like puff of fried pastry. The correct way to eat it is not with powdered sugar or chocolate sauce but to bite off one end and pour honey into the center of it. I did exactly that and I am still not sure what happened, but my hands, elbows, shirt, and the table were immediately sticky. Cole moved his seat as close to his grandmother as he could. I knew just how a person with leprosy must feel. Really.
The unthinkable happened a few years ago at the New Mexico State Fair. My mom was eating a hot dog and a drop of mustard about the size of a dime fell on her shirt. She was stunned. I was shocked and then I did the only thing I could do while she blotted the stain furiously – I jumped up and down, laughing and pointing and admonishing to her to rub, not blot. It was my turn. I took it.
Emily celebrated Cherry Popsicle Day with her youngest.
I Celebrated with Rascal
After Rascal licked on her popsicle…she was a little bit sticky but she did not seem to mind.
Odd Loves Company so I hope you will keep us company with a comment! We have a weekend of musing to catch up on so I will see you later!