Charlie’s on the mend from his hip replacement. Every day he gets better and better. It’s a marvel to see him bend down and put on his socks by himself. He’s doing physical therapy a couple times a day, plus he takes a short walk. Without Scamp, of course. That’s because Scamp can be a little unpredictable, especially when he sees another dog. He only weighs fourteen pounds, but that four on the floor is a powerful thing. The hardest part for Charlie is the nighttime. Especially at the beginning. He just couldn’t get comfortable. No position seemed to work, so he dreamed a lot. I’ll let him tell you all about it.  The Dreams …

Here in the LeClair household, we’re counting down to Charlie’s hip replacement one week from today. We’ve had it scheduled since last fall. That’s when Charlie finally wrapped his head around the fact he had to deal with it because his bum hip was starting to get in the way of doing things he liked to do. He’s been limping for awhile, but I knew he had to come around to it on his own. So, I didn’t push. Once he mentioned it though, I made an appointment right away. You wait too long with this stuff and your whole body gets outta whack. Before you know it, your good hip is now bad hip, …

Winter brings it’s own sort of challenges. Some of these are big like the Polar Vortex. And some are small. Take for example those pesky cracks, mostly on your thumbs, that no amount of moisturizer seems to prevent or cure. Even when they’re tiny, that can keep you up at night throbbing away. Charlie wrote a poem about one of these little irritations. Not big enough to actually do anything about except complain. Gotta admit though, doing it in a poem is classy.  I’ll Get To It One Of These Days  There’s a nail head that catches my shovel, it seems Whenever it snows on the deck And then I think, Oh, what the heck …

Charlie and me had a surprise visitor around our bird feeder the other day. I’ll let Charlie tell you about it. No Ordinary Vermin By the window, Ida asked me “What the heck is that?” Racing ‘round the driveway like some Crazy kind of rat?”  I came to look, and saw this bugger Dashing to and fro Chasing after all the birds His coat as white as snow  “Is that some kind of weasel, Charlie? That would be my vote” Yup, I says, you nailed it, Ida That’s what’s called a stoat  See that little tip of black He’s got upon his tail? Now and then we see ‘em When we’ve stopped along the trail …

Can you believe it? Two snow storms in November. Not the end of November, either. We’re talking November 15th and 20th. Now, I’ve lived in Maine my whole life (so far) and I’ve seen snow in November before. Sure. But usually it’s a light dusting that’s gone the next day. This stuff is not only sticking. It’s piling up. This is unnatural. What’s next? Locusts? Nope. A new poem from my hubby. I just love this guy! Everyone’s Buzzin’ ‘Bout Snow Weather’s a-comin’, and everyone’s buzzin’ Buzzin’ ‘bout snow wherever I go And wherever I’m goin’, the amount keeps growin’ Everyone’s buzzin’ ‘bout snow “How much we getting’?” this fella asked me Heck if I …

When your dog gets excited, does he sneeze? I read on the internet, it means that they’re happy. Well then, our dog Scamp must be extra happy because when we’re getting ready to take our morning walk Charlie, Scamp, and me, our little fella turns into a sneezing fool. I mean, one sneeze right after another. It’s kind of funny unless you’re running late, then it’s kind of irritating. That’s because Scamp’s not a multi-tasker. If he’s sneezing, he can’t do anything else. Especially not sit still to don his halter and leash. Charlie was so taken with this trait, he wrote a poem about it. Hot to Trot Imagine you’re so hot to trot …

I’ve never seen as many dead squirrels in the road as I have this year. How about you? Charlie hasn’t written a poem in awhile, but this squirrel situation made him come out of retirement. Dead Rodents Everywhere! Walking Scamp along the road ‘Twas like a battlefield we strode We couldn’t help but stop and stare: Dead rodents everywhere! Squirrels a-plenty, chipmunks, too And there were more than just a few Critters free of all enslavement Plastered there upon the pavement Acorn hunting in the street Doesn’t always end up sweet They just don’t get alot of warning From commuters in the morning Caffeinated, running late Who has got the time to wait For some …

Why do they play music everywhere you go? I mean, I’ve been shopping in a store and have to leave because the music is too distracting. And loud. I can barely hear myself think! Charlie, too.  Too Loud at the Bank One of my errands was to go to the bank I walked inside and my heart just sank ‘Cause once again they got the music cranked too loud That just shouldn’t be allowed When I’m in here I gotta concentrate With too much noise my thinking isn’t straight I can’t even handle a deposit slip Man, I gotta get a grip Too loud at the bank, now is it just me, or Is this …

Charlie and me are at the age where we spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter. We walk into a room and think, Now, what am I here after? (Tommy’s aunt told me that one, and boy, ain’t it the truth!) If you find yourself always losing things, routine is your friend. It’s simple. Choose a place where something is going to live, say your car keys, and always return the thing in question to it’s home base. That way, it’ll always be there when you need it. Easier said than done, right? Your cell phone rings as you’re wrestling grocery bags from the car into the house. You put everything on the …

Today is our anniversary, and my sweetheart wrote me a love poem. It’s based on a something that actually happened a few years ago. Seriously, this is a true story  The Tale of the Missing Wedding Ring  Leave it to Ida to not miss a thing “Charlie,” she asked, “where is your ring?” Indeed it was missing, I didn’t know Where it had gone, or how long ago My ring had decided, for reasons unknown Perhaps it was time to go off on its own  That ring, I think, had a valid excuse ‘Cause man, it had suffered years of abuse In the woods, in my shop, doin’ chores in the yard With gloves on …