Seems like Charlie and me have been going to more wakes and funerals then we used to. Or we’re hearing about a gal we know just got cancer or a guy who had a heart attack. Kind of shakes you up. So much so, I found myself thinking the other day, if I’m the first one to kick the bucket, I hope Charlie gets out there and finds a lady friend to do stuff with. You know, after the appropriate mourning period. I told him I don’t want much. Just my photo with a couple of votive candles burning 24/7!  At our age, the writing’s on the wall. There’s a 50/50 chance, right? You’re going …

It’s only the end of July, and boy, haven’t we had one heck of a tourist season already here in Mahoosuc Mills! I don’t get it. Some of these people from away drive hundreds of miles in their fancy SUVs to get away from it all, then they complain that it’s not more like home. “Don’t you have a Starbucks in town?” “The cell phone coverage stinks.” “The loons are keeping me up at night.” Folks, if you wanted to be miserable, you could have saved the gas and stayed home. Not everyone is like that, of course. But the ones who are kind of stand out. Down to the A&P, it’s been wicked busy, …

I have a whole chapter in my book, The Sweet Life, about how to deal money because money, or lack of it, can cause a lot of stress in a marriage. Now, I don’t give any advice on how to invest your hard-earned cash. I just share ways to approach money on a day-to-day basis, things that have worked for Charlie and me. Some of it we’ve been doing since we got married, and some we had to learn the hard way. I want to save you some pain. I’ve heard that rich people find it kind of tacky to talk about money, but for the rest of us, well, we gotta. I’m not saying …

This week’s blog appears in my book, The Sweet Life, but it bears repeating. ‘Tis the season. Up ‘til the economy tanked, “staycation” wasn’t even a word. There’s a reason for that. See how only half the word resembles “vacation”? That’s a hint as to the outcome of most staycations. At best, they’re kind of like a vacation. At worse, they’re more like a week spent in the Gulag. Charlie and me learned this the hard way a few years back. We’d never taken a staycation, so we thought we’d give it a try. We even made a plan, well kind of. We’d scrape and repaint the deck the first weekend, ‘cause it needed it …

Ran into Franny Ward down to the A&P the other day. She was standing in the express lane looking happy as a clam. I was about to go on break anyway, so I shut of my register light and went over to say hi.  Along with me and a handful of others, Franny is one of the Saturday morning regulars with Patsy down to Hair Affair. It’s always the same bunch of women, reading the same magazines, under the same hairdryers, dishing about celebrities and locals alike. We are equal opportunity gossipers. Did you see that movie “Steel Magnolias?” It’s kind of like that, only with snow or black flies. I call us the Sturdy …

I haven’t always been the best sleeper, and Charlie’s snoring doesn’t help. Menopause, either. Though to be honest, I crossed that bridge a long time ago, so technically, I’m post-menopause, which sounds like I’m just this side of dead. Anyhoo, that’s how I’ve been sleeping lately, like the dead, and it’s blissful. Why the improvement? I’d say it’s a combo platter of a few things. First and foremost, Charlie started doing a couple hits of nasal spray before he goes to bed, and it’s made all the difference in the world. His snoring has ratcheted down to a soft purr. I know it’s the nasal spray because during the day when he’s dozing in the …

Last weekend, guess what we did. Hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about work, it’s all about when we plan to retire, how long we’re going to try to wait to collect Social Security. Instead of our kids, we talk about aging parents and grand kids. Instead of envelopes of loose photos, we take turns squintin’ at our smart phones, trying to find that great shot we just have to share. We travel more. We drink less alcohol and more decaf.  But some things stay …

In my book, The Sweet Life, I have a whole chapter devoted to sex. Hey, it’s a book about love and marriage, so it had to be done. Doesn’t quite have the same pizzazz as when we were younger, but it’s not half bad. I’m no Dr. Ruth (I’m short, but not that short), but bottom line: I’m a firm believer in doing whatever you need to do in order to do it. I’ll spare you the details. Oh, and fantasize all you want about whoever you want, but just don’t act on it. My friend Rita learned this the hard way. Rita works down to Smitty’s Hardware, which is owned by her husband, Smitty. …

I hope you had a nice weekend, because mine was a friggin’ marathon of errand running and house cleaning with an evening of canasta, a bean supper and an ice cream social thrown in for good measure. You know what? I’m kinda looking forward to getting back to work today, to rest up! Friday night, we went over to Nicole and Bobby Francoeur’s place to play canasta. They’re a nice couple, but as I’ve told you before, I’m not much for game playing. It just…I don’t know, I find it kind of boring. So I end up medicating myself with the nachos and peanut M&M’s, which, to be honest, leave me a little cranky. Still, …

Me and the Dairy Queen have a love/hate relationship. All summer long I love it, and the rest of the year I take its name. Let’s just say my skinny jeans and the Peanut Buster Parfait are like Patty Duke and her cousin. They’re never seen in the same room at the same time. In the spring when the DQ opens, I start off with the Peanut Buster Parfait right out of the gate because, you know, I missed that delightful mix of vanilla soft serve, hot fudge sauce, and peanuts. It’s a sweet and salty taste sensation, and I enjoy every bite.  Then I scale it back. When Charlie and me ride over to …