October, my season of terror. Days are getting shorter, leaves piling up in the yard, frost on the pumpkin. But that’s not the problem. What’s plaguing me is what plagues me every October: the advent of them miniature candy bars. Snickers, Milky Ways, Butterfingers, they’re like crack cocaine to me. ‘Cause candy is love, baby, and I want me some love!   Ida, I say to myself, don’t buy them until Halloween Day. And I start out strong, I really do. But then, oh-oh, there’s a bowl of candy corn at book group, or a bunch of small boxes on the counter at the dry cleaners. Or I’m at a birthday party where they’re serving chocolate …

My dad doesn’t have a lot of schooling, but if common sense counts, he’s a pretty smart guy. Kind of a philosopher, really. For example, his take on marriage. “A good marriage is like a good fire; you have to tend it to make it burn bright.” Of course he also said, “Tending a fire is a delicate thing. If you leave it be too long, it’ll go out. But if you put too much wood on it, you’ll smother the flame.” So, I was talking to dad this week, you know, checking in. At eighty-four, he’s slowing down some. He doesn’t play golf or bowl anymore, and he’d stopped doing a lot of activities …

Charlie wrote this poem a couple of weeks ago, and I’m just getting around to sharing it with you. I’ve been wicked busy with my new show. Having a blast with it! But now I’m back down to business. I gotta say, I’m with Charlie on this one. I swear, I saw Halloween stuff out in some stores at the end of August. There ought to be a law! Home Depot: September 21 Look at the trees, they’re starting to turn And for cool sleepin’ weather, I no longer yearn September is here, but I find it queer To see pumpkins for sale at Home Depot Pallets of pumpkins in front of the store Are …

Why don’t they have an express lane at Jo-Ann Fabric?! I mean, I was in there Saturday. All I needed some thread to match a button that had fallen off one of my sweaters, and the thread on the other buttons was a shade of blue I just didn’t have in my sewing kit. Isn’t that always the way?   I find my thread, no problem. Sure, I had to nudge aside an old lady checking out the fake flowers, and I may have hip-checked a kid playing with the ribbons (just kidding), but so far, so good. What I didn’t take into account was the fact that it’s a Saturday in late September, and …

Ida Leclair talks about what to do when you get trapped by a nonstop talker.

Charlie hasn’t written a poem in a bit. Guess we’ve both been busy enjoying summer. But now that it’s September, he’s back at it. Here’s one inspired by something that happened while Charlie was out walking Scamp. Enjoy! Somethin’ To Do For us volunteer firemen, often the drill  Is to take out the fire truck, just for a thrill No fires to fight, and emergencies, few It’s a whole lot o’ nothing, but somethin’ to do Off-duty was I, my head in a fog While Ida cooked dinner, I walked the dog The guy who drove by wasn’t someone I knowed All of a sudden, he went off the road! Into the culvert, he started …

This weekend, we celebrated Labor Day with a party up to Dot and Tommy’s camp. The usual gang was there. Late yesterday morning, Charlie and me and Celeste and Bud went out in some kayaks they have up there. We all looked pretty good paddling around, kind of athletic really. But after an hour or so of sitting in one position, you best avert your eyes when it comes time to get out of them boats. Holy Walter Brennan, Batman!  Ain’t aging wonderful? Last week, I walked by the bathroom and glimpsed Charlie in there checking out the hair in his ears and nose. “Time to get out the router rooter, dear,” I says. “Very …

I know it’s the end of August, and I was there two weeks ago when the mums arrived at the A&P. But, it’s too soon! I am not ready for fall. It feels like summer only just arrived.  Right now, I’m groovin’ on the sunflowers, pink phlox and Black-eyed Susan, bobbin’ in the breeze. Our butterfly bush and hummingbird feeder are still packing ‘em in. Even the potted petunias are still perky. I mean, I’m not sick of zucchini yet, so I’m definitely not ready for “hearty mums.” Don’t be me wrong, I like the idea of a plant that has “hearty” as part of it’s name. It says, I’m going to be here for …

A couple of weeks ago, I had an experience that’s haunted me ever since. So much so, I felt the need to discuss it with the Women Who Run With the Moose when we got together for our girls’ night, Thursday evening. Betty was hosting, and she was servin’ these skinny watermelon margaritas. Perfect for a hot, summer night in Mahoosuc Mills, and for helping the conversation flow. Not that us gals ever have a problem in that department.  “So last Saturday, I was at the baked bean supper down to the Congo Church,” I begin, “and who do I run into but Eleanor Purdy.” “How is ol’ Ellie?” asks Shirley. “Just as sweet as …

Along with this blog, I started writing a “Dear Ida” column in the Moose Megantic Gazette awhile back. I know! Wicking fun. I thought I’d share this letter with you because it’s a classic. It’s already been in the paper, but in case you missed it, here it is:  Dear Ida, My wife don’t think I’m sexy no more. What do I do? Concerned in Calais   Here’s what I said:  Dear Concerned,      Who do I look like? Dr. Ruth? I’m short, but not that short!       You want to know how to get your sexy back? Well, let’s see. A man vacuuming, that’s sexy. (Am I right, ladies?) A man snoring away …