The poet of Mahoosuc Mills strikes again. Boots Need Waxing Boots need waxin’ once a year ‘Specially if you’re hunting deer Any decent goo will do “Moose snot” is what we call it, here It kind of looks like that to us. To use it, you don’t have to fuss: Brush your boots off to begin, Then gob it on and rub it in Your huntin’ day will not be blotted If your boots are good and snotted Mine were not when we set out And I went on my own to scout  These tracks that started leading me Around this big, blown-over tree On down a hill with rocks and such And through this …

All of a sudden, I’m hearing this commotion in the bathroom. Sounds like Charlie’s trying to find something. “Hey, Ida!” “Yeah?” “You seen my nose hair clipper?” “Your what?” “You know, that thing I use to trim my nose hair.” “Where is it usually?” “Top drawer.” Nose hair clipper. I can kind of see it in my mind, this heavy, pewter-colored thing, looks kind of like a medieval torture device. “You mean that industrial strength roto-rooter I bought you a few years back?” “Yeah, that. Can’t find it.” Oh, no, I’m thinking. I can picture the thing now, in a plastic tray nestled between five or six lipsticks, all in crap colors, make you look …

As I talked about in my blog from a while back, my dad finds that one of the hardest parts of being in Mahoosuc Green (our senior living facility here in Mahoosuc Mills) is that the women won’t leave the men alone. Dad had a real bee in his bonnet about this when we visited him on Sunday. So much so, it inspired Charlie to write a poem. Down to The Home Sunday, we went and we saw Ida’s dad Down to the Home, and though he was glad One little matter did not make him cheerful Boy, did we ever get us an earful! “Why,” he asked, “do women insist On taking things over? …

Sad to say, yard sale season is just about at an end for this year, but there are still bargains to be had. I was out browsing around the area with Dottie last weekend, seeing if we could score some last minute deals. She’s always looking for stuff for up to their camp. “You mind if I bring Scamp?” I ask. Scamp’s our little dog. Cute as a button, if I do say so myself. “Nah, bring him along.” Scamp just loves being part of the pack. He’s happy to go anywhere, anytime. And you know what? The little bugger is a great negotiating tool. Softens up even the most tight fisted seller. If I’m …