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 …

Crockpots, or slow cooker as they’re calling ‘em nowadays, are real popular in our neck of the woods as you can imagine, especially during the winter months. So I wasn’t surprised this week when I picked up my sister Irene to go to our book group, and she came out carrying her own crockpot. I popped the trunk and she put hers beside mine. “What’d you make?” she asks. “Chili with ground turkey. Trying keep it light where I can, so I can have dessert. How ‘bout you?” “Baked beans with miniature hot dogs.” “Always a crowd pleaser.” So off we go to Donna Gerard’s, across town. The thing is, having a slow cooker in …

So a couple weeks before Christmas, I’m doing a book signing at the Kittery Trading Post (always nice to head south during the winter). Across from me was Santa and Mrs. Claus. She looked harmless enough, but frankly, I think Santa might have been in witness protection. Those kids waiting to get their photo taken were some cute, all dressed up and a few in their pajamas. My favorites were those children that were fine until you put them in Mrs. Claus’ lap, then they’d start to cry. Then the parents would try to calm them down, all the while getting more and more stressed out because they’re so invested in getting the perfect picture. …

When I see folks splitting and stacking wood this time of year, it always makes me think of my dad. Back when he was a kid, they did all their cooking and heating with wood, and he spent most of his childhood splitting, stacking and hauling wood, to hear him tell it. He swore he’d never do it again, so we didn’t have wood stove growing up. And Charlie and me don’t either, though we have a generator, in case the power goes out. Dad is almost eighty, and still has recurring dreams of stacking wood with his dad, my grandfather, George. Now, there was a true, old school woodsman. George meticulously split wood into …

Recipes for Romance Each chapter of my new book, The Sweet Life, features a little section I call “Recipes for Romance, which is exactly what it says. It could be a real recipe or a recipe for a date. Here’s the first one featured in the book. Give it a try. You won’t be disappointed!      No matter who does most of the cooking––you, him or your personal chef, Mr. Ronald McDonald–it’s important to learn how to make a couple of things your husband’s mother used to make for him (providing he liked her cooking). In the newlywed days, your cooking may be an adjustment for him. If he starts getting that deer in the …