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 …

Wow! Last week, the weather was wacky to the max! Mid-week we got a “dusting” of snow that ended up being about three inches. It was that wet kind of snow that sticks to all the trees and shrubs and makes the world look magical. I took a walk the morning after our little storm. The real feel temps were hovering around 23 degrees, but the sun was shining and the world looked so bright and clear, with a sky the most intense shade of blue. A couple hours later, the trees were bare again. The ice had melted off the cars, and there was this steady drip, drip, drip from the roof as the …

On February 28,  Scamp turned fourteen! Honestly, last November, when our vet told us he had a tumor on his spleen, I wondered if he’d make it past Christmas. But, darn, if he’s still hanging in there! I give him a half a pill a day. It’s an appetite stimulant, anti-naussea type thing. Without that, I don’t think he’d be eating much at all. But right now, he’s chowing down pretty good. We blast Scamp with love and give him all the treats he wants, of course. He’s earned it. Most importantly, he doesn’t seem to be in any pain. That would be a deal breaker. Scamp doesn’t run to the door when we come …

Charlie and me are at the age where we spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter. We walk into a room and think, Now, what am I here after? (Tommy’s aunt told me that one, and boy, ain’t it the truth!) If you find yourself always losing things, routine is your friend. It’s simple. Choose a place where something is going to live, say your car keys, and always return the thing in question to it’s home base. That way, it’ll always be there when you need it. Easier said than done, right? Your cell phone rings as you’re wrestling grocery bags from the car into the house. You put everything on the …

We’ve been having some wacky weather here in Mahoosuc Mills. A few weeks ago we had a snow storm that turned to icy rain. Then, we had a cold snap which left our driveway looking like Antarctica. Since then, we’ve been on a roller coaster ride of cold snaps and spring-like weather. So, about normal for winter in Maine, though so far, February is looking more like March. Go figure! Anyhoo, Charlie’s had a run for his money keeping the driveway up to par, making sure we don’t fall and break a hip. Yet, he did find time to write me a love poem. At first glance, I know it doesn’t look like a love …

I lot of my friends are starting to retire. Or talking about retirement, weighing their options. Charlie is, too. God knows, he’s put in his time in down to the mill. Worked his way up to foreman. Survived all them pink slips as operations got smaller and smaller. Man, it’s been stressful, the not knowing. Not just for Charlie, but for all of Mahoosuc Mills, too. Used to be, the paper mill was the best job in town. Hard work, sure, but good, steady pay and benefits, and secure. Not anymore. Anyhoo, Charlie will be 65 next month, so, yeah, we’ve been talking ‘bout it. It would be great to see Charlie have more time …