Poison Ivy I should have known better Than to mess with that vine Encircling the trunk Of our rugged old pine Snaking its way To the branches it goes Its leaves, you better Be wary of those! I should have known better Than to trim those leaves My arms were bare From my gloves to my sleeves As I sawed a dead branch Right off of that tree That vine began working Its magic on me Ivy, oh ivy That darn poison ivy All over my arms And legs, egad! I got me a case And I got it bad! Late that night Started itching alot Calamine lotion? It didn’t do squat Hopped in the …

It’s that time of year again where squirrels and drivers do si do. You have to keep an eagle eye out because an excited squirrel and a distracted driver is not a good combo. Not for the squirrel, certainly, but not you, either. Remember back in 2018 (I looked it up) where it was crazy how many dead squirrels were on the road? I guess there was a bumper crop of acorns the year before, so there were more little squirrels that year. All the young squirrels were leaving the nest about the same time, and apparently they weren’t taught to look both ways before crossing the road. This year’s squirrel population seems about normal, …

 I know I probably shouldn’t be complaining about this. I mean, just look at the temperatures in other parts of the country. Still, I can’t remember ever being this cranky hot. We’re in Maine for God sakes! It’s not supposed to be this hot for this long. We’re not equipped to handle it. It’s like when some place down south gets an inch of snow, and it puts a monkey wrench in everything. That’s what it feels like here in Mahoosuc Mills. Everybody’s discombobulated. Charlie and me have air-conditioning in our bedroom, of course, but the rest of the house never really cools down. And humid! My makeup seems to slide around on my face. …

We celebrated Dot and Tommy’s fortieth wedding anniversary over the weekend, with a big blow-out up to their camp. We had lobsters and steamers, coleslaw, macaroni salad, corn on the cob, ambrosia (I brought that) and homemade biscuits. And the desserts? Oh, Mister Man! Don’t know if I was more buzzed by the sweets or the sugar-free Jell-O shots (gotta save calories where we can)! Oh, and Junior made his famous bean hole beans. Ever had ‘em? It’s a guy thing ‘cause, you know, it involves digging a hole, filling it with old tire chains and playing around with fire for a good three hours. The woman helps out a bit,  prepping the beans, getting …

Charlie come home from work the other day, and I could tell straight off, he had some sort of bee in his bonnet. “What’s a matter?” I ask. “I’m gonna mow the lawn ‘fore supper,” he says, storming out the door and letting it slam behind him. “OK. Sounds good.” Now, in the early years of our marriage, I’d try to get Charlie to tell me what was bothering him. I’d hug him, you know, wanting to make things better. Frankly, all that did was make him feel smothered. Then, I’d end up as miffed as he was. Nowadays, I give him a wide berth, let him work through whatever it is at his own …

In case you’re wondering, the creepy monkey from last week is still there. The sight of it is weirdly comforting now. Why? Because, if it wasn’t, I’d wonder if it had moved on to terrorize another neighborhood. Though it could be hunting at night, and then returning right before dawn to lull me into a false sense of security. Yikes! When Charlie finally noticed the creepy monkey (he didn’t notice before because he’s always looking down at the pavement), he thought its eyes were so creepy, they must be cameras. So whenever we pass that mailbox, we make a face at it. Anyhoo, Charlie and me went to one of them outdoor flea markets over …

So I’m walking along with my dog, Cora, minding my own beeswax when this happens. It’s early, about 6:45, a beautiful morning. Birds are singing, sun is shining, the scent of new mown grass in the air. Then I see something sitting on a mailbox up ahead. It’s too big to be a squirrel and not the right color. And why is it not moving? What the heck? As I get closer, it comes into focus. It’s a monkey. Not just any monkey either. It’s a creepy monkey. A creepy monkey with real fur, perched up on that mailbox like it’s been just waiting for me. Now when you walk most every day in the …

I’ve been on a jag lately of reorganizing and freshening up the house. I try to tackle one project a week. These are not just any projects. They’re the ones that have been on my list for a dogs age and I never seem to get to them. The kind of stuff that takes up space in your head and on your list of things to do. Then, when you actually roll up your sleeves and do ‘em, they take less time than you thought they would. You feel great after, and think, Why’d I wait so long. I’m talking about reorganizing the junk drawer, repotting plants, cleaning out our storage closet. I’ve finally gotten …

So, I’m standing at the check-out of one of them new, “old fashioned” general stores, clutching a bag of penny candy, when I suddenly spy the fudge counter. What a dilemma! The Women Who Run With the Moose (me and my friends Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley) take field trips from time to time, and we were on our way home from a whirlwind shopping excursion to the outlet malls in North Conway. Plum tuckered out from all that bargain hunting, we needed a little nourishment to fuel our trip back to Mahoosuc Mills. That’s when the store appeared right on cue. We piled out of Shirley’s Bonneville and went in search of sustenance. …

Charlie went Home Depot last week, and wrote a poem about it. Cute Cashier Cute cashier in the check-out line Perky as heck at the start of her shift Perky’s contagious, you catch my drift? A good day, I’d say she’s begun it If she’d asked me to stand on my head, I’d have done it Or tried, anyway It wouldn’t be pretty I might have more luck If I sung her a ditty But people behind me Don’t need a song They need me to pay her And just move along Cute cashier in the check-out line Perky and cute, that’s a real gift Gives an ol’ bugger like this one a lift A …