Folks, I’m feeling a little out of sorts this morning. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking: Hurricane Ida, right? Like I haven’t heard jokes like that all week. You just wait until you have a hurricane named after you! The last time this happened to me was in 2009, and it seems too soon for it to happen again. Speaking of too soon, and the reason I’m a little down right now, one of the saddest days of summer happened last Monday. You know what I’m talking about: the arrival of our hardy mums down to the A&P. (Sigh.) Sure, they have tight little buds at the moment, but that means we’re only a …

I visit my Dad over to Mahoosuc Green a couple times a week or so. He lives on Chickadee Lane. (That’s assisted living for us civilians.) From his swanky, new Barcalounger, he has a nice view of the back yard. The Black-Eyed Susan’s are real pretty right now. There’s also a nice trellis with some sort of plant climbing up, getting ready to completely take it over. Dad says to me, “The truck is buried.” “Yeah, I can see that. How long has it been like that?” “Awhile.” See, that’s the thing. Dad’s memory is spotty at best, and his mind plays tricks on him. This “truck” is really a trellis. We never had a …

Charlie’s latest brings to mind so many thoughts. Take a gander, then I’ll share ‘em with you. Look Up and Be Proud Grandpa once told me “Look up and be proud! Distinguishable From the rest of the crowd” But each time I did, Wouldn’t you know, I’d stumble or trip Over something below A rake or a pail Or the root of a tree A crusty old dog That I didn’t see There’s always some obstacle Down on the ground That is the reason I’ve always looked down My posture, I know, Has taken a hit Best thing for me? Find somewhere to sit Where I’m out of range Of things I could trip on …

So, I’m at Mikey’s Meat Market on Thursday after work. I buy the basic stuff down to the A&P, of course, but when it comes to meat, I go to Mikey’s. It’s a good old fashioned meat market with red-faced butchers out back cutting meat, and guys (yup, only guys) behind the counter. These fellas really know their stuff, including how long to cook just about anything you’re buying. So anyways, I’m waiting in line. There was a pause in the action and no customers are in there except for me and Mildred Campbell. We’re standing side by side, both staring into the meat case. I’m considering how many pork chops I should buy, and …

You know how up to camp, especially one that’s been in the family a long time, there are these tacky knickknacks that no one has the heart to get rid of? Sure the stuff’s ugly, but they’re part of the overall ambiance of the place, and camp just wouldn’t be the same without ‘em. Camp is like your catch-all closet, only bigger. Don’t know what to do with the thing? Bring it up to camp. There are the mismatched mugs with logos from businesses that don’t exist anymore. Your kids pottery projects or, let’s be honest here, your pottery projects from when you were a kid. Ceramics gone horribly wrong. You know what I’m talking …

I just love yard sales. I love going to them, and I love having them. Because the thing is, if you go to a lot of yard sales, you have to have a yard sale every once in a while to get rid of the stuff you bought at the other yard sales, right? Oh, I’ve gotten some wicked good stuff at yard sales. Like one of them crocheted toilet paper covers, only with a poodle on top. (I kid you not). And at Debbie Ledoux’s last year, a bobble head moose and a hand-painted wooden frog for my frog collection. Score! I’ve also bought crap that looked good in the heat of the moment. …

Last weekend, we hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp on Moose Megantic Lake. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. Not all of us can make it, usually, but this year it was a full boat. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about what we used to talk about (which honestly, I can’t quite remember what that was), we talk about retirement, grandchildren, and, if we’re lucky enough to still have them, our aging parents. We may even engage in an organ recital. That’s when we describe our aches and pains and replacement parts (new hip, knee or …

The 19th annual Antique Tractor and Engine Show took place up to the Bouchard Brother’s Farm last weekend. Hoo, boy! Charlie was like a kid, he was so jacked up. “Three more days ‘til the tractor show, Ida!” Both men and women love this event! Men, because there are tractors, of course, and all them old engines, “antique” tools and the like. (Me? I think “antique” is just a code word for “rusty.” But beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, right?) Women love it because the men are occupied and out of their hair all weekend. It’s a win/win situation. I go to the pancake breakfast Saturday morning (Well, who doesn’t like a pancake …

Charlie and me were out for a Sunday drive, and happened to pass Agnes Brown’s place out on Duck Pond Road. “Slow down, Charlie. Look, Aggie’s got ladders up!” “Ida, them ladders been up over a year.” “No!” “Seen them there last winter, under a foot of snow.” “There should be a law! You are not allowed begin another home improvement project ‘til you’ve finished the last one.” “Or in Aggie’s case, the last ten or twenty projects.” “Wow! What a way to live!” “One year, Ida, I kid you not, I think she put up one shingle.” “Come on!” “Really. Billy Pritchard told me. He lives in the grey house over there. Keeps an …

Last Wednesday (I remember the day because it was so traumatic), I’m tidying up in the morning before work, when I suddenly look down and see my arm in the sunlight. What the heck? I’m thinking. The skin was all strange and bumpy, like an alien creature. My other arm was fine, but my left one was looking really weird. I stared at it for a minute or so, trying to make sense of it. Have I come down with some strange disease in the night? That’s the arm I got my Covid shot in (two months ago). Is this some kind of side effect? Should I google it? Then, the penny drops. It’s just …