We’re coming down the home stretch now, and none too soon. Being under the weather put me behind the eight ball on my holiday to do list. That makes me stressed out, and when I get that way, real food stops appealing to me. I just want to eat sugary stuff. That is a recipe for disaster, as my husband Charlie so nicely let me know in this lovely poem about the joy of the holiday season. Just Get Outta Her Way Now that the lights are on the house My concern is for my spouse ‘Cause every Christmas, it repeats: “Over committed, too many sweets” Last weekend, Ida was the star Of St. …
The longer I’m married, the more I realize sometimes Charlie and me just have a completely different way of looking at things. Not the big things, of course. We’re on the same page there. But, you know, it’s those little things he does over and over again that can just irritate the crap of of me. And vice versa. Charlie was inspired to write a little diddy about one such thing. Half-a-Banana Man First thing this morning, I reach in the bowl Grabbed the one banana, I can’t eat it whole, so I took about half, put the other half back Boy, did I ever get flack! I like to start my day before I …
Most women are more loyal to their hairdresser than they are to their gynecologist. I’ve been going to Pasty down to Hair Affair every Saturday morning since Moby Dick was a minnow. For the record, Patsy is a good solid hairdresser. Sure, occasionally she gets a little distracted and I’m forced to do a “Hairdresser Smackdown,” but all in all, she’s a keeper. As a rule, Charlie doesn’t fuss much with his hair, or what’s left of it anyway. He’d been going to the barber shop downtown forever. But when Alfie Pinette retired, no one stepped in to take his place. So, Charlie’s started dropping into Ol’ Yankee Clippers in Dover-Foxcroft whenever he’s over there …
One day a while back, I was at the Rite Aid picking up a few things. Seems like I’m in there every other day. I mean, if they didn’t see me for a week, they’d probably send me a get well card. Anyhoo, I have a little list of things to get, and on that list, second from the bottom, was “L-Glutamine.” Yes, I thought, that’s definitely my handwriting. But I had no recollection whatsoever of writing it, and no idea what the hell it does. I must have read about L-Glutamine somewhere in a magazine and thought it would be good for me, so I bought it. When I got home, I searched through …
I finally switched over my clothes. We usually get a hot snap after I pack away my summer stuff, but that don’t look like it’s going to happen this year. It always feels so good to get the closet and drawers in order. Toward the end of the season, they get a little messy, you know, with all that digging around in my fall/winter clothes for sweaters and such. I even put the flannel sheets on the bed, and have started making soup for our lunches. These are my yearly rituals that mark the changing of the season. Here’s one of Charlie’s: How’d it Get to be October? How’d it get to be October? Mowin’ …
One of the things I love most about Charlie is he sees what needs to be done and does it. No need to form a committee, and discuss it to death. No ignoring it and hope someone else will step up to the plate. (Okay, to be honest, there were a few incidents where he left a scrap of toilet paper on the roll instead of replacing it. Hey, no one’s perfect.) But all in all, my Charlie’s a doer, and that includes writing poetry about what he’s doing. Here’s the latest. Happy to Have Done My Bit Today I saw a scary sight Drivin’ back to my abode Something dark was sitting right In …
Big goings on here in Mahoosuc Mills. Some builders from up to Bangor tried to pull a fast one. They bought the old Johnson place over on Front Street, tore it down and we’re getting ready to slap up one of them McMansions, but first they decided to basically clear cut the lot, like they do. All systems were go, ‘til Esther Higgins intervened.
It’s been a year since our neighbor, Vincent DiSalvo died. His wife Sarah had an open house on Sunday afternoon to mark the occasion. She’s doing pretty good, considering. A bunch of people showed up and it was a nice get-together. Folks told stories about Vinnie, of course. What a great guy he was. How he could fix anything. Never charged for it, either, though he wouldn’t say no to a meal. And dessert? He’d always ask for seconds. Vinnie touched a lot of lives, and Mahoosuc Mills misses him. But, like in a lot of small towns, we take care of our own, and some have stepped up to the plate. Charlie’s one of …
Come summer, a trip to the Dairy Queen can improve your day no end. That refreshing iced milk can calm you down or cheer you up. It’s a perfect way to celebrate winning a softball game or mend a broken heart. But here’s the thing. Up north where we live, you have to be careful driving down country roads after dark because of the wildlife. And I’m not talking about the Purdy brothers on their way home from tying one on down to the Brew Ha Ha. I’m refer to animals jay-walking across the road. I mean, they don’t seem to pay any attention whatsoever to the Deer or Moose Crossing signs. We even eliminated …
Wow! Hasn’t the weather been wonderful so far this summer? Of course, there’s always those who complain. They see it as their civic duty. It’s too hot, too humid, not enough rain, too much rain. And sometimes, sure, the weather does leave a little to be desired. Then, there are days that are just picture perfect. Our friend Johnny T calls them “a bluebird of a day.” Charlie was so taken with that idea, he wrote a poem about it. A Bluebird of a Day From the western hills last night A rumblin’ did come The rain we’ve needed finally fell We closed the windows some By morning, all that humid air Had up and …
