Caitlin got back from a yoga retreat this week, and like the good niece she is, she brought a little present. “Aunt Ida,” she says. “I saw this in the gift shop at the retreat center, and I thought of you. Couldn’t resist.” What a sweetie! It wasn’t a crystal guaranteed to balance my chakras or a singing bowl or bookmark with words of wisdom that guy Rumi (is it just me, but I never seem to get what he’s driving at). No, Caitlin brought me a candy bar, one of those extra-large ones with a pretty picture on the wrapper. But this wasn’t just any candy bar. No siree Bob. It was (wait for …

I was at my doctor’s office, talking to her about some digestive problems I’ve been having lately, and she says to me, “You know, Ida, the older you get, the more your body becomes like a nun’s.” That caught me off guard at first, but I pondered it and she kind of has a point. After a certain age, there’s just a lot less margin for error. Gotta somehow keep yourself pure. But tell me, where’s the fun in that? It seems like this happens overnight. But if you stop and think about it, you realize that’s not really true. Our bodies have been trying to get our attention, but we haven’t been taking the …

The poet laureate of Mahoosuc Mills strikes again, and who could blame him. If Shakespeare had had the pleasure of partaking in one of Babes homemade, fresh from the oven, maple glazed donuts, I’m sure he’d have written a sonnet about it. Thankfully, Charlie stepped in to fill the gap. Here’s his latest. Maple Glazed Doughnut Down to the mill, If you punch in early, ‘Round about ten Your stomach gets squirrel-ly Someone’s elected To go, make it hasty And bring us all back Some coffee and pastry Muffins, of course, Are a popular pick And danish are usually Polished off quick The guys all have favorites They never outgrow, For me, it’s the Maple …

So, I’m standing at the check-out of one of them new, “old fashioned” general stores, clutching a bag of penny candy, when I suddenly spy the fudge counter. What a dilemma! The Women Who Run With the Moose (me and my friends Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley) take field trips from time to time, and we were on our way home from a whirlwind shopping excursion to the outlet malls in North Conway. Plum tuckered out from all that bargain hunting, we needed a little nourishment to fuel our trip back to Mahoosuc Mills. That’s when the store appeared right on cue. We piled out of Shirley’s Bonneville and went in search of sustenance. …

Got together with the Women Who Run With the Moose last week for our usual girls night. Dottie was hosting. The menu consisted of a big salad, mac and cheese, and Pumpkin Spice Martinis. Yowza! For dessert, we had leftover Halloween candy. I had to buy my contribution, of course, because someone (not Charlie) ate all ours. We talked about how kids just don’t trick or treat like they used to? “Too be fair,” I says, “it’s probably hard to wear a mask with a helmet on.” That got the girls going. Shirley made one of them kitty litter cakes for her Halloween party at work. What a hoot! You ever seen one? Well, check …

Me and the Dairy Queen have a love/hate relationship. All summer long I love it, and the rest of the year I take its name. Let’s just say my skinny jeans and the Peanut Buster Parfait are like Patty Duke and her cousin. They’re never seen in the same room at the same time. In the spring when the DQ opens, I start off with the Peanut Buster Parfait right out of the gate because, you know, I missed that delightful mix of vanilla soft serve, hot fudge sauce, and peanuts. It’s a sweet and salty taste sensation, and I enjoy every bite. Then I scale it back. When Charlie and me ride over to …

•Now that it’s spring, I walk with my friend Betty a few mornings a week. Gets us out of the house and moving and makes me feel a little less guilty about my frequent visits to the Dairy Queen. Last week, we were walking and talking a mile a minute, when I say, “Man, did I ever have a crap night’s sleep last night! Awake from about midnight to 3:00am, tossing and turning.” “Me, too! 12:00 to 3:00, wide awake. Slept fine the night before.” “Same here. Remember growing up, when our periods tended to sync up with each other?” “Oh, yeah. Getting together was a real cranky-fest.” “Bad! Well, here’s what I’m wondering. Post-menopause, …

Yesterday, I made a batch of my Grandmother’s molasses cookies, and boy, they sure look beautiful, if I do say so myself. Just like I remember. I have Grammy’s recipe written in her shaky hand on white (now yellow) lined paper. The thing even has Grammy’s molasses stains on it. My mother had it laminated for me years ago, and I’ve used it so much it’s starting to separate along the edges. The thing I like most about this recipe is that in the margin at the top of the page, over “Old Fashioned Drop Molasses Cookies,” my Grandmother has written, “My best.” Underlined, with a period, not an exclamation mark. It was a truth …

Charlie and me were taking a Sunday morning walk, just the two of us. Scamp doesn’t really do walks anymore. We take him out in the yard, where he pees, then stands and sniffs the air for about five minutes not willing to go any further. Guess he’s deciding whether or not he has to poop. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. 50/50 chance on those mornings when doesn’t go outside, he realizes later he had to go after all, and leaves a little deposit or two around the house. More times than not in the bathroom, if you can believe it. He’s always been a smart little fella. Anyhoo, Charlie and me were out …

We were hanging out with our niece Caitlin and her boyfriend, Adam, last week. It was a typical January day, cold and blustery, with an occasionally flurry thrown in for good measure. But it was warm inside, and we were having breakfast for supper. This is something we used to do all the time when we Caitlin was little and we were babysitting. French toast and bacon were on the menu. Caitlin and Adam are vegetarian, so they usually bring along some veggie bacon for me to cook up for them. Personally, I don’t get the point of veggie bacon. It just seems kind of unnatural. But we humor ‘em. Could have knock me over …