Charlie and me are all set for Halloween Friday night. I bought a bunch of candy, ate it, bought some more, and you guess it. Now I’m candied out, so I took the left over candy and donated to the Community Center for their Halloween party. Who am I kidding? There was no left over candy. I had to buy more candy and drive directly to the Community Center, do not pass go, do not, under any circumstances, rip open that plastic bag. There was a moment where I thought they were going to have to pry that candy out of my hands, but I manage to let it go and run from the building …

Is it a guy thing, or is it just my husband? Charlie, who is usually pretty level headed, can get so “busy” doing stuff that common sense flies out the window. He’ll say to me, “Man, I’ve had a headache all day.” “Did you take anything for it?” “Nope.” “Why not?” “Too busy.” Yup. Stopping what he’s doing in the yard, coming inside, popping a couple of pills, then going back to work (which would take all of five minutes) is just too much multi-tasking for him. It’s ridiculous! Then there was the incident last winter, after one of the big snow storms, I noticed it seemed to take Charlie forever to snow blow the …

Over the weekend, Charlie and me were out walking around the neighborhood. We passed Frank Ward’s place. He has a bigger than usual garage and works on vintage cars in his spare time. He’d just gotten a delivery of a new, old car, and there’s a couple of guys from away hanging out, coffee mugs in hand. Never seen ‘em before. The owners maybe? Being neighborly, I say, “Hi, there.” And Charlie goes, “Boy, that sure is beauty. Looks like it just needs a little TLC.” Then outta the blue, one of the guys (who frankly seemed like he had a little buzz on) looks at us and goes, “Did you know there are three …

October, my season of terror. Days are getting shorter, leaves piling up in the yard, frost on the pumpkin. But that’s not the problem. What’s plaguing me is what plagues me every October: the advent of them miniature candy bars. Snickers, Milky Ways, Butterfingers, they’re like crack cocaine to me. ‘Cause candy is love, baby, and I want me some love! Ida, I say to myself, don’t buy them until Halloween Day. And I start out strong, I really do. But then, oh-oh, there’s a bowl of candy corn at book group, or a bunch of small boxes on the counter at the dry cleaners. Or I’m at a birthday party where they’re serving chocolate …