Last Tuesday, Archie Johnson come into the A&P, per usual. He’s what we affectionately refer to in Mahoosuc Mills as a “mangy, old fart.” Lives in a rundown trailer on the edge of town: tires piled in the yard, blue tarps, broken cars on cinder blocks, you name it. I know, sounds like a cliché. But cliché’s come from somewhere. Archie is living proof. Archie generally keeps himself to himself. “Lives off the land,” would be a nice way to put it. Comes into town once a week for “supplies.” Though his looks and odor can be a little off putting (Archie would never get a gold star for personal hygiene), he’s harmless enough. So …

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 …

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 …

Another summer holiday is here, and you know what that means, don’t you? Men down to Mikey’s Meat Market buying meat. I was in there on Saturday getting some pork chops for supper, and it was a friggin’ mad house. Now, you don’t get this for your winter holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, even Easter, I go into the meat market and it’s mostly exhausted women trying to do higher math. You know, if we’ve got 14 people coming for dinner, how big’s the turkey got to be? Or if the rump roast weighs such and such, how long should I cook it and at what temperature? Man, they don’t ask questions like that on the SAT’s! …

Today is our anniversary, and my sweetheart wrote me a love poem. It’s based on a something that actually happened a few years ago. Seriously, this is a true story  The Tale of the Missing Wedding Ring  Leave it to Ida to not miss a thing “Charlie,” she asked, “where is your ring?” Indeed it was missing, I didn’t know Where it had gone, or how long ago My ring had decided, for reasons unknown Perhaps it was time to go off on its own  That ring, I think, had a valid excuse ‘Cause man, it had suffered years of abuse In the woods, in my shop, doin’ chores in the yard With gloves on …

Charlie and me went to a dance down to the VFW this weekend, a benefit for the Moose Megantic High School Band Boosters. The theme was “Rockin’ to the Oldies.” I says to Charlie, “We’re oldies. Let’s go!” We had a fun time, too, once it got going. But that took awhile, because someone hired professional dancers to kick off the evening with dance lessons. Charlie and me didn’t have much interest in that. It’s not like we think we’re perfect dancers or something. Far from it. But like a lot of couples, we have our own style. We don’t give a hoot about doing it “the right way.” Anyways, after teaching us how to …

After I finished my radiation for breast cancer and started getting my energy back, I realized something. I had never asked anyone where the boob shop is. See, because of where my cancer was located, I had what I’d call a “partial mastectomy.” My medical chart says “lumpectomy,” but honey, they lopped off the top third of my breast. In other words, instead a gentle mountain peak, I’m left with more of a mesa situation. What would you call it? It isn’t really that big a deal. I’ve been stuffing a little sock into my padded bra to balance things out and make my cleavage not look wonky. But the sock was too lumpy for …

Charlie and me went shopping for a new gas grill at Home Depot this weekend. The old one was plumb worn out, so it was time. I was on board with it. But let me tell you, I was not on board for two hours of comparison shopping, debating the merits of this one or that one, different “features” and questions, questions, questions, like it’s some kind of fancy sports car or something. Honest to God. And of course, there’s a whole bunch of other guys there doing the same thing. See grilling, for the most part, is a man’s territory. Don’t get me wrong, I use the gas grill. But when I do, it’s …

Bud’s the first of our little group to retire. Worked for Gagne’s & Sons Heating and Cooling for what? Thirty plus years, I guess. That’s dirty work, repairing furnaces and the like. Plus, you get called out at all hours, day and night. Weekends, too, don’t matter the weather. And unless you’re doing an annual cleaning, the people you’re dealing with are usually real upset. I mean, it’s ten degrees out, and no heat. They’re all bundled up, seeing their breath inside the house, and Bud’s gotta be the one who tells ‘em their furnace is shot. No fun. Once he hit sixty-five, Bud was outta there. When he started talking about retiring, I says …

Saturday, I’m on my way home from my weekly appointment with Patsy down to Hair Affair, when on a whim, I turn into the Agway parking lot. Don’t know why, because I’d planned on going straight home to clean the house. It just kind of happened. Generally, Charlie’s the one who shops at the Agway. Me, not so much. But there I was. So, I go inside thinking, Maybe I can find another hanging plant for the deck. Well, no sooner do I get in the door, when who do I see? Debbie Plourde. I hadn’t seen Debbie since Washington crossed the Delaware. She was a year behind me in school. Debbie left Mahoosuc Mills …