One day a while back, I was at the Rite Aid picking up a few things. Seems like I’m in there every other day. I mean, if they didn’t see me for a week, they’d probably send me a get well card.  Anyhoo, I have a little list of things to get, and on that list, second from the bottom, was “L-Glutamine.” Yes, I thought, that’s definitely my handwriting. But I had no recollection whatsoever of writing it, and no idea what the hell it does. I must have read about L-Glutamine somewhere in a magazine and thought it would be good for me, so I bought it. When I got home, I searched through …

Candy Corn is not a vegetable. I know. It doesn’t seem fair. If it was, let me tell you, Doctor Oz would be very proud of me right now because I’ve been managing to squeeze in at least five servings of candy corn per day. And that’s before lunch.  The thing is, I don’t even like candy corn that much. I mean, what is it really? Well, I looked it up, and candy corn is made up of sugar, water, corn syrup and marshmallow, so it’s just packed with nutrients. Get this: a “serving size” is supposed to be 19 pieces. Seriously? We have a bottomless bowl of candy corn in our break room at …

I finally switched over my clothes. We usually get a hot snap after I pack away my summer stuff, but that don’t look like it’s going to happen this year. It always feels so good to get the closet and drawers in order. Toward the end of the season, they get a little messy, you know, with all that digging around in my fall/winter clothes for sweaters and such. I even put the flannel sheets on the bed, and have started making soup for our lunches. These are my yearly rituals that mark the changing of the season. Here’s one of Charlie’s: How’d it Get to be October? How’d it get to be October? Mowin’ …

When I see folks splitting and stacking wood this time of year, it always makes me think of my dad. Back when he was a kid, they did all their cooking and heating with wood, and he spent most of his childhood splitting, stacking and hauling wood, to hear him tell it. He swore he’d never do it again, so we didn’t have wood stove growing up. And Charlie and me don’t either, though we have a generator, in case the power goes out. Dad is almost eighty, and still has recurring dreams of stacking wood with his dad, my grandfather, George. Now, there was a true, old school woodsman. George meticulously split wood into …

One of the things I love most about Charlie is he sees what needs to be done and does it. No need to form a committee, and discuss it to death. No ignoring it and hope someone else will step up to the plate. (Okay, to be honest, there were a few incidents where he left a scrap of toilet paper on the roll instead of replacing it. Hey, no one’s perfect.) But all in all, my Charlie’s a doer, and that includes writing poetry about what he’s doing. Here’s the latest. Happy to Have Done My Bit Today I saw a scary sight Drivin’ back to my abode Something dark was sitting right In …