The other day, I noticed I had a missed call on my iphone from my sister Irene. So, I unlock the phone, see if she left a message, when I accidentally facetime her. Oops! I hang up before she answers because it’s first thing in the morning, and frankly, I’m not exactly looking my best. You know those movies where the woman wakes up all tousled and sexy? She rolls over and looks at the guy next to her. “Hi,” he says and flashes that killer grin. And she smiles back and murmurs, “Hi.” Not high on the scale of witty comebacks, but he seems to like it because guess who’s late for work that …

Sunday, we had a birthday brunch for our Dad, over to Irene and Jimbo’s. She made the “Egg Dish” (there’s only one) which is something our mom used to make involving about a dozen eggs, butter, bread, milk and cheese. How can you go wrong with that combination, right? You whip it up the night before, and the next morning it bakes up nice and light. I brought along some fruit salad and cranberry nut bread, and Jimbo fried up a whole mess of bacon. As far as we’re concerned, if there ever was a “the food of the Gods,” bacon is it. Charlie and me picked up Dad from Mahoosuc Green. They had already …

Walker envy. It’s a thing. I know because I’ve seen it down to Mahoosuc Green, where my dad lives. Their motto there is “experience your finest senior moments with us.” Jury’s still out on that one, but I gotta say, it’s a pretty nice place. Dad has a cute little apartment. He eats a meal in the dining room every day and plays “Beano” as he calls it, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evening. In March, my dad will turn 86. His days of golfing, bowling, and dating may be behind him, but there’s still a lot of life left in the old duffer. Dad learned the hard way that his walker is his friend …

Last Saturday morning, our household was up earlier than usual. Charlie was going canoeing with the boys for a few days, and Scamp and me were gearing up for our little spouse-cation. I made eggs and toast for Charlie, sending him off in style, then Scamp and me went for a walk. It was going on 5:30 AM by then, and still dark outside. I don my reflective vest and grab the poop light and off we go. One of the things I love about my fourteen pound personal trainer is that he gets me outside and moving every day. This particular morning, it was in the mid-forties: crisp, clear, and blissfully quiet. It feels …

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 …

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 …

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 …

It’s finally spring here in Mahoosuc Mills, and you know what that means? Spring cleaning, of course. I’m not saying I go hog wild like my mother and grandmother, taking apart each room of the house, but it’s good to do a deep cleaning every now and then. In preparation for this ritual, I bought a new vacuum cleaner head. The old one had seen better days. Finally, the lever that switches back and forth from “carpet” to “floor” broke, and it was permanently stuck on “carpet.” Hard to get good suction going on a wood floor, I’ll tell ya. It’s sad how excited I was about getting my new vacuum cleaner head, but hey, …

Having a dog is the best! They’re all about unconditional love. And just about everything they do is they’re favorite thing. “We’re going into the other room. That’s my favorite thing!” “Time to take a nap. That’s my favorite thing!” “A treat, oh, boy! That’s my favorite thing.” “Time for a walk? Get out of town. That’s my favorite thing.” Baths are not one of Scamp’s favorite things, but running around the house like a crazy dog after is. Scamp is more attached to me than he is to Charlie. If Charlie goes out, Scamp hardly looks up. But when I leave the house, Scamp always gives me this look, like “I can’t believe you’re …

When my sister Irene and me were kids, we had these little wooden snow scoops with our names painted on them that were made special just for us by our uncle, Octave Pease. They were just like our Dad’s, only a third the size, and we used to help him shovel the driveway. Which means we just got in the way, and made more of a mess for him to clean up! Octave: now there was a character. He come from a big family, I don’t know how many brothers and sisters. Octave never set foot in a school room, but he was smart as a whip. The kind of fella that could do anything …