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 …

A few weeks ago, my Dad calls me up for a little advice. “Ida,” he says, “a friend of mine wants to sell his condo, and he’s on the third floor. Where does he bury St. Joseph if he doesn’t really have a yard?” “Gee, beats me. Let me do a little research, Dad, and I’ll get back to you.” “Thanks, honey.” You’ve heard of this, right? You want to sell your house, so you bury a statue of St. Joseph upside down in the yard. You do a novena every day for nine days, St. Joseph puts in a word with the Big Guy, and you sell you house lickety-split. We did this when …

Did you give up something for Lent? That used to be a big deal, didn’t it? I don’t think people do it so much, now. Seems the older I get, the harder it is to come up with something to abstain from during Lent. It’s not that I’m so pure. It’s that I’m so boring. All the food stuff I can think of, you know, candy, ice cream, bacon and booze, I shouldn’t be indulging in anyway (though I do). And things like snapping at my husband, cursin’ and being judgmental, well, I should be watching out for those all year long. And giving up sex? Well, that’s a little extreme, don’t you think? Look, …

My Grandmother, Dora Gilbert, used to freeze her garbage. This was in the days before garbage disposals, so there was a lot to freeze. But she didn’t let that intimidate her. For Dora, freezing garbage was more than just a way to keep it from stinking. It was an art form. I can see my grandmother now standing in her immaculate kitchen, a little Franco-American woman with permed gray hair, full make-up, a house dress, nylon stockings, sensible shoes and a bib apron, carefully wrapping her garbage in little foil packets. ‘Course there’s nothing really unusual about freezing garbage. Not in my family, anyway. We all freezes our garbage. Having a garbage disposal doesn’t really …

Last week’s blog and this fall weather has got me thinking about my Grampy Gilbert. As I said last week, he was a registered Maine guide and as you can imagine, he had stories up the ying-yang! Here’s a couple of family favorites: There was the one about the doctors from New York, come up to Maine to go fishing one June. On the phone Grampy says, “I’ll tell you right up front, it’s black fly season up here. Sometime’s the air’s so thick with them p’tit mouche, you can’t see your hand in front of your face. In fact, a swarm of them carried off Mrs. Dugall’s dog last week. No shit! And it …

Charlie came home from work last Friday, and I could tell he was a little thrown off. Usually, I got dinner all set out for him. “What’s up?” he says, staring at me with my coat on and ready to go. “Don’t you remember? Caitlin’s art opening?” “Oh, Jeez…” Clearly, he hadn’t. “Come on, Charlie. It’ll be good for us.” See, my niece Caitlin and her boyfriend Adam are part of this group art show at To Bean or Not to Bean, Mahoosuc Mills’s very own coffee shop and performance space. Just opened up in one of the old mill buildings last fall. I don’t think they’re going to put the Busy Bee out of …

Last weekend, guess what we did? Hung out with our cousins at 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 squinting 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 the …