Charlie and Scamp have a special bond. I think it’s a guy thing. I’ll let Charlie tell you about it. I Stepped In It  I stepped in it the other day Not too fresh, I’m glad to say Scamp and I were on our beat When we heard chatter up the street And knew exactly who we’d meet Joanne and Kim, out on their walk Man, those gals know how to talk! “Hi!” says I, and flash a smile Though I’m knowing, all the while, That I had landed on a pile  Of something gushy underfoot “Oh,” says Kim, “Your dog’s so cute The way he likes to sniff your boot!”  “That he does,” I …

Last Tuesday, I zip home from work, change my clothes and walk Scamp twice as long as I usually do because I’m trying to put some distance between me and all those Peanut Buster Parfaits I ate this summer. I’ve been wearing a Fitbit, and wasn’t even close to my goal of 10,000 steps a day. So I put the pedal to the metal (or the New Balance on the black top, as it were). Got home and whipped together a new healthy recipe for Pork Cacciatore (made with pork tenderloin) and served on spiralized zucchini. Of course, the recipe takes longer than it says on the instructions. Am I the slowest cook in the …

We celebrated Celeste’s birthday last weekend with a party over to Betty’s house. The whole gang was there and we had a wicked good time. So Monday evening, Betty gives me a ring. “Oh good, Ida, you’re there.” “Far as I can tell,” I says. “What’s up?” “You wouldn’t believe what just happened.” “Try me.” “Well, this morning I had to call the plumber because our half bath downstairs was, well, having issues.” “I noticed something was funky with that toilet on Saturday. It’s always like that when you have company, isn’t it? If it isn’t the toilet, it’s the garbage disposal backing up or the dishwasher starts acting wonky, or something.” “Don’t you just …

Okay, it’s Labor Day, and even though the summer flew by and I’m not ready, I’ve decided to focus on the positive. September is one of the nicest months of the year here in Maine. It’s full of clear, sunny days free of humidity, followed by those crisp nights, just perfect for snoozing. All of a sudden, the tourists have transformed from exasperated parents with their cranky, sunburned kids, to retired couples, kicking back and living the dream. And you can actually get a parking spot on Main Street! Me, I always get that back-to-business shot of energy ingrained no doubt from years of school. Years of September representing new outfits, new notebooks, and a …

Boy, we’ve had some wicked thunder boomers lately! The middle of the night kind, where that clap of thunder is so loud, you levitate out of bed. Thank goodness, our little dog Scamp is unfazed. He just sighs and rolls over. I wish Charlie and me could do the same. It’s like that thunder has breathed new life into us. Then there’s the storms that happen late in the afternoon. The kind where Mahoosuc Mills turns from Vacationland to Stephen King territory in a few ominous minutes. You look one way, and it’s fine: sunny and full of promise. Then you turn your head and see the Apocalypse bearing down on you. The wind starts …

Charlie and me went to the Woodsmen’s Competition down to Bouchard’s Farm this weekend. I thought it would be fun for us to check it out. Logging is part of my heritage, after all. My grandfather, George, was a lumberjack most of his life. Legend has it, he could cut three chord of wood per day with a buck saw, and drop a tree so it landed just where he wanted it, every time. Don’t know what George would have made of the whole thing. You know, people competing against each other, splitting, cutting, and chopping wood. Jobs my grandfather was probably glad to see the back side of when he finally quit doing ‘em. …

We’re coming up on a very special anniversary, my friends. That’s right, the death of Elvis Presley. August 16, 1977, a date burned into my memory. That’s when the King relocated to heaven, taking all his talent and charisma with him. Forty-two years later, you know what? I still miss him. What a sexy man! Fat or thin, I don’t care, there was something about Elvis. When I think of him, though, I mostly think of the young Elvis. That first time on Ed Sullivan, oh mister man! We’d never seen anything like him. Even though they only showed him from the waist up, which made it even more tantalizing. Us girls were all a-flutter …

Babe Delahunt runs the Busy Bee Bakery with her husband Bud. It’s over on Main Street here in Mahoosuc Mills. They’re open for breakfast and lunch seven days a week during the summer. Babe’s a real peach, give you the shirt off her back. But she has a limited tolerance for snotty tourists and has her own unique way of handling them. I was in there the other day getting a coffee frappe (got to keep up my strength) when I witnessed Babe at her best. This fella from away barges in, talking on a cell phone like we all want to know his business. “Look,” he says, “I need to see some results in …

I had the pleasure of sitting beside Snowdell Holden’s sister, Trudy, at the bean supper Saturday night. Trudy lives in Portland, but spends the summer up to her camp on Scoodic Lake. She’d driven over for the weekend. Like Snowdell, Trudy’s a pistol. Just turned 89, and doesn’t look a day over 79, which is quite a compliment when you’re pushing 90. Over beans, biscuits, cole slaw, hot dogs, not to mention the mac and cheese that somehow wandered onto my plate, we got to talking about Trudy’s life, like you do. Trudy’s a retired nurse, mother of five with eleven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. She’s been a widow for going on twenty years now. …

Charlie has joined the crowd of folks talking about the hot weather. But you know what? As complaining goes, poetry is a pretty fancy way of doing it. My hubby’s a keeper! “Don’t You Find This Summer Hot?”  Don’t you find this summer hot? I don’t feel like doin’ squat! Too hot for chores or barbequein’ None of that I feel like doin’  Getting’ up and goin’ fishin’? Nope, a cool one’s what I’m wishin’ For, Presto! Right here in my hand A beer to steer me to the stands Of Fenway, wouldn’t that be grand? To be up there with all the fans? Shy of that, I’ll sit here sippin’ On my ice cold, …