It’s been a few weeks since I finished radiation, and I’m starting to feel more myself. And heck, it’s almost March. March in Maine means even if you get snow, you still feel hopeful that spring is right around the corner. Now that I have more energy, I’m trying to catch up on some of the things I let slide. Still trying not to sweat the small stuff, but there’s a limit. I mean, dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds? That’s just not right! Here’s a poem about what Charlie’s been up to lately. I Didn’t and Here We Are I coulda snow-blown while the snow was fluff Before it all turned to that crusty …

Have you ever had a chore that just gets shuffled from one to-do list to another? Something that needs to be fixed or put away or thrown away, but you never to get to it. “Maybe tomorrow,” you say. But tomorrow never comes. And by the by, you don’t even notice anymore when you jiggle the handle of the pesky toilet. Or automatically bump your hip against that drawer that sticks when you come to shut it. Well, you’re not alone. Charlie got inspired. Not to do his chore, but to write a poem about not doing it. I’ll Get To It One Of These Days  There’s a nail head that catches my shovel, it …

January is almost done, thank goodness. My decluttering is kind of stalled, though, because I’ve done all the easy stuff, and all that’s left are big things like tacking my craft room or the catch all closet. But, it’s hard to get motivated. Frankly, I’m kind of overwhelmed just thinking about it. Caitlin, my niece and guru for all things new age-y, says to me the other day, “Aunt Ida, some animals hyphenate for the winter. Maybe we should take our cue from them, and slow down a little. You know, enjoy it.” We were having lunch down to the Busy Bee, and I was tucking into the special of the day: baked macaroni and …

Okay, my buckaroos, we are just about halfway through January. It’s a long, cold month, a good time for hunkering down, using the hell out of your slow cooker, and enjoying the beauty of sunlight on snow (from inside your cozy house). It’s so bright it almost hurts your eyes, right? It’s hard to get psyched up to do your spring cleaning in January, though that would make more sense. Do it now, when you’re under house arrest because of the temps. Why save it for warmer weather? I’ll tell you why. It’s hard enough to keep up your morale when it’s cold and dark. Spring cleaning in January would just do me in. What …

“How’d you sleep?” Charlie asked me, as he does most mornings. This was a few weeks ago. “Oh, you know, got up every few hours to pee. The usual. ‘Til about 4:00. That’s when I made the mistake of thinking.” “Well, sweetheart, you have a lot on your mind.” “I don’t have a sleeping problem. I got a thinking problem.” “I hear you. Once we have a game plan, we’ll feel better.” “I think you’re right. It’s the not knowing that’s driving me nuts.” See, at the beginning of December, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I know! What a delightful holiday surprise, huh? Not only was I surprised, so was every doctor I dealt …

So on Saturday, my car needed to go in for a little work. It was sounding weird. The kind of thing where when the radio’s on, you don’t notice. But then you’re giving someone a ride and your car sounds like it’s on it’s last legs. You look over, and your friends seems a little nervous, and you realize you should probably be, too. I have to go to Bangor for my mammogram on Thursday. (I know, the fun never ends!) And I didn’t want to worry that my car wasn’t going to make it. That’s nerve racking to say the least, and is a fabulous way to make a long drive even longer. So …

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 …

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 …