I know it’s the end of August, and I was there two weeks ago when the mums arrived at the A&P. But, it’s too soon! I am not ready for fall. It feels like summer only just arrived.  Right now, I’m groovin’ on the sunflowers, pink phlox and Black-eyed Susan, bobbin’ in the breeze. Our butterfly bush and hummingbird feeder are still packing ‘em in. Even the potted petunias are still perky. I mean, I’m not sick of zucchini yet, so I’m definitely not ready for “hearty mums.” Don’t be me wrong, I like the idea of a plant that has “hearty” as part of it’s name. It says, I’m going to be here for …

A couple of weeks ago, I had an experience that’s haunted me ever since. So much so, I felt the need to discuss it with the Women Who Run With the Moose when we got together for our girls’ night, Thursday evening. Betty was hosting, and she was servin’ these skinny watermelon margaritas. Perfect for a hot, summer night in Mahoosuc Mills, and for helping the conversation flow. Not that us gals ever have a problem in that department.  “So last Saturday, I was at the baked bean supper down to the Congo Church,” I begin, “and who do I run into but Eleanor Purdy.” “How is ol’ Ellie?” asks Shirley. “Just as sweet as …

Along with this blog, I started writing a “Dear Ida” column in the Moose Megantic Gazette awhile back. I know! Wicking fun. I thought I’d share this letter with you because it’s a classic. It’s already been in the paper, but in case you missed it, here it is:  Dear Ida, My wife don’t think I’m sexy no more. What do I do? Concerned in Calais   Here’s what I said:  Dear Concerned,      Who do I look like? Dr. Ruth? I’m short, but not that short!       You want to know how to get your sexy back? Well, let’s see. A man vacuuming, that’s sexy. (Am I right, ladies?) A man snoring away …

Seems like Charlie and me have been going to more wakes and funerals then we used to. Or we’re hearing about a gal we know just got cancer or a guy who had a heart attack. Kind of shakes you up. So much so, I found myself thinking the other day, if I’m the first one to kick the bucket, I hope Charlie gets out there and finds a lady friend to do stuff with. You know, after the appropriate mourning period. I told him I don’t want much. Just my photo with a couple of votive candles burning 24/7!  At our age, the writing’s on the wall. There’s a 50/50 chance, right? You’re going …