Saw Franny Ward at the A&P the other day. Franny’s having the time of her life down to Mahoosuc Green, our senior living facility in town. She must have been squeezing in a little grocery shopping between all them classes in flower arranging and exotic pole dancing. Franny is in her early eighties and is always dressed to the nines. This particular day she was sporting a fushia t-shirt with “Born to Sparkle” written in big, sparkly letters across the front. Wow! As if this wasn’t enough, the rest of the shirt had sparkles all over it, too, front and back. Just then, one of our new summer cashiers, Destiny, sidles up to me and …

I was looking through old photos, and I found this one of me getting ready to celebrate my fourth birthday. Looks like quite a party, huh? There are little cartoon characters on the tablecloth and the ever popular pointy hats. And I’m dressed to the nines, of course. Some things never change. I still like dressing up, but I’ve become more of a tiara and boa kind a gal. And I like celebrating my birthday the entire month of May. One day’s just not enough! Besides, I gotta pace myself. Now me and my friends Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley (aka, the Women Who Run With the Moose) get together once a week for …

So the other day, I’m working at the A&P, ringing out Pearl Plaisted when I notice she has on the cutest pair of angel earrings. “Pearl,” I says, “look at those angel earrings. Aren’t they just adorable?” (See, I believe if someone is looking sharp, you should tell them.) Pearl smiles. “Got ‘em down to the Dollar Store. Fifty cents!” “That is a bargain at twice the price! Oh, and look at your angel pin.” “Ida,” she says, “this is my guardian angel. I’ve taken to wearing it ever since that incident down to Home Depot.” No one else was in line, so I shut off my register light, “Do tell, Pearl!” “Well, Hank and …

Now, I don’t know if you know, but in a small town, one of the most dependable sources of fun is the extended practical joke. I mean, these things can (and do) go on for years, passed down from generation to generation. We don’t go in for the mean-spirited jokes in Mahoosuc Mills or anything where a person could get physically hurt. That sort of thing’s too easy. There’s no finesse involved. No, a good practical joke takes planning and creativity. It takes time and commitment. ’Cause you know if you pull a practical joke on someone, they’re going to do the same to you. It’s a bond that’s outlasted many a marriage, and when …

•Now that it’s spring, I walk with my friend Betty a few mornings a week. Gets us out of the house and moving and makes me feel a little less guilty about my frequent visits to the Dairy Queen. Last week, we were walking and talking a mile a minute, when I say, “Man, did I ever have a crap night’s sleep last night! Awake from about midnight to 3:00am, tossing and turning.” “Me, too! 12:00 to 3:00, wide awake. Slept fine the night before.” “Same here. Remember growing up, when our periods tended to sync up with each other?” “Oh, yeah. Getting together was a real cranky-fest.” “Bad! Well, here’s what I’m wondering. Post-menopause, …

This poem was supposed to be part of last week’s blog post, but I was having a hard time to get through it without crying. Still missing the little guy like crazy, but I did better this week. So, here’s a little good-bye ditty Charlie wrote for Scamp. Bark Park in the Sky Scamp has gone, our little guy, To that great bark park in the sky Where walking’s not the daily slog And dogs can finally be a dog A park where you have just been sent To bark until your heart’s content Where every dog is runnin’ proud The place is yours, no cats allowed! At last, a land where you can be …

I’ve been putting off writing this blog post. It’s been almost two weeks now since we had to say good-bye to our little buddy. Scamp didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he was just a shadow of his former self. The spunk was gone, the spark, too. No more long walks, no jumping up on the Barcalounger love seat, that little tail of his no longer stood at attention. Why, even his bark had changed. He didn’t eat much, except for treats. I swear, the only thing keeping him going was love. I woke in the middle of the night hearing Scamp try to get comfortable, going from his bed to the floor …

Saturday, my husband come back from the Transfer Station, chuckling. “What is it, Charlie?” “It was classic, Ida. Just classic.” There’s something about that place that gives Charlie a thrill. He always looks so happy loading up the truck with trash and recycling, and heading off into the morning mist. The allure is lost on me, but Charlie’s love affair with the Transfer Station gives me some time alone to putter ‘round before I head off for my weekly appointment with Pasty down to Hair Affair. So, I guess, in a roundabout way, I’m fond of the Transfer Station, too! Remember when the Transfer Station was the dump? Back in the days before cable TV, …

Yesterday, I made a batch of my Grandmother’s molasses cookies, and boy, they sure look beautiful, if I do say so myself. Just like I remember. I have Grammy’s recipe written in her shaky hand on white (now yellow) lined paper. The thing even has Grammy’s molasses stains on it. My mother had it laminated for me years ago, and I’ve used it so much it’s starting to separate along the edges. The thing I like most about this recipe is that in the margin at the top of the page, over “Old Fashioned Drop Molasses Cookies,” my Grandmother has written, “My best.” Underlined, with a period, not an exclamation mark. It was a truth …

People were kind of spacey and tired last week, what with the time change. Me, too. We’re all just kind of…off. Whether we’re springing forward or falling back, it’s a royal pain in the patootie! It’s amazing what screwing around with our sleep schedules can do, right? I mean, it’s just one hour. It shouldn’t make that much difference. But get this: on the Monday after we switch to DST, heart attacks go up by 24%. Strokes increase, too. Car accidents climb 17%. I’m reading that folks are more likely to get injured at work due to “attention lapses and micro-sleeps.” Charlie’s sitting at the kitchen table one day last week, working on his second …