Come summer, a trip to the Dairy Queen can improve your day no end. That refreshing iced milk can calm you down or cheer you up. It’s a perfect way to celebrate winning a soft ball game or mend a broken heart. But here’s the thing. Up north where we live, you have to be careful driving down country roads after dark because of the wildlife. And I’m not talking about the Purdy brothers on their way home from tying one on down to the Brew Ha Ha. I’m refer to animals jay walking across the road. I mean, they don’t seem to pay any attention whatsoever to the “Deer or Moose Crossing” signs. We …

Over the weekend, Charlie and me went to a party at Bud and Babe Delahunt’s. They’re the ones that run the Busy Bee. You know, the bakery here in town? Well, since everybody knows them, it was a biggie. I saw folks I hadn’t seen in years. Plus, the food! Absolutely to die for! The next morning at breakfast, though, Charlie seemed a little distracted. “What’s the matter, dear?” “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about that party last night.” “Fun, wasn’t it? How about that chocolate cake with the peanut butter frosting?” “Good thing you saved me a piece.” Charlie just sat there, hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. “What’s up?” “Got cornered …

Well, we had an incident up to Dot and Tommy’s camp this weekend that was wicked embarrassing. It’s really Charlie’s story to tell, so I’ll let him. After all, he is, by default, the Poet Laureate of Mahoosuc Mills. Stinkfoot Sunday last, we took a break To Dot and Tommy’s, by the lake All the gang were comin’, too Tommy planned a barbeque His plans, alas, were all in vain When darn, if it began to rain “Bring the food in!” Tommy cried And we were forced to move inside There we ate, and all was well ‘til some of them complained of smell I thought the hubbub was excessive But soon the smell became …

The Women Who Run With the Moose got together for our girls night on Thursday. Betty was hosting and she was serving nachos and these skinny watermelon margaritas. Oh, they were wicked tasty! Right from the get go, us girls were talking a mile a minute, per usual. Hard to get a word in edgewise, but I managed. “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.” Celeste goes, “That old gal must be pushing ninety.” “Eighty-eight next week, she told me. Heck, she pretty much announced it to everyone there. Still lives at home. Well, she was …