March 18th was my Dad’s birthday. He’s been gone three years now. I still miss him. What a character he was! Here’s one of my favorite stories. Dad tried that computer dating thing. This was a couple years after my mom passed. He joined this Catholic dating site. A friend who’s good with computers helped him put up his profile, but he didn’t include a picture. When my niece Caitlin caught wind of that, she got Dad’s password and everything and added a nice photo of him taken at Easter dinner that year. I’ll be darned. He got so many emails, it crashed his computer! Well, he was a good looking guy. Nice head of …

I love asking folks what they think is the key to a happy marriage. And I gotta tell you, some of the answers are surprising. For instance, when I asked my friend Betty, she replied, “Golf.” “Come again?” “You heard me. Golf.” “I’m gonna need a little more information.” “Well, golf is a hobby that we do together. We’re outside, having fun. We joined the couples league and have little shindigs with them every once and awhile. Sometimes we go away for a golfing weekend. It’s like a mini vacation, because we’re not thinking about anything else while we’re playing, and so we’re kinda just being ourselves.” “I feel like that when we go away …

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 …

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 …

November is National Family Caregivers Month, but for a lot of us, caregiving is a year round sort of thing. Caregivers are everywhere. There are paid caregivers, of course: nurses, social workers, childcare workers, the folks that work down to the senior center, to name a few. Family caregivers, however, are for the most part, unpaid: friends or family members who selflessly give of their time and energy to take care of people who need it. It’s your friend with small children, a sick husband or aging parents. Maybe you know someone who’s helping out a friend or even an acquaintance with a cancer diagnosis or Parkinson’s who doesn’t have any family to help. Heck, …

Phew! Only one more holiday to go! But New Years is kid’s stuff compared to the Big Enchilada: Christmas. What a production! I feel like a Mack truck hit me, but, you know, in a good sort of way. I wish I could be more relaxed about these things; having the house clean and not getting so caught up in making everything just right. But at this point, it’s kind of hard to change. My sister Irene’s the same way. Tidiness was passed down to us from our mother, who got it from her mother. It’s worth all the hard work, though, seeing the family gathered ‘round, talking and eating and laughing, and eating some …

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 …

So Charlie and me go to the Knights of Columbus cookout, and when we get home we have one of those couple conversations. You know the kind I mean: an eye opener. “Gee, Charlie,” I says “Celeste seemed a little stand offish to me this evening. Not quite herself. Did Bud say anything to you about it to you?” “No.” “No?” “Ida, I told you, us guys operate solely on a need to know basis.” “Well jeez, I haven’t heard from her all week. I think she must be miffed ‘cause I didn’t say anything about her new hair color last time I saw her down to the A&P.” “Ah, she probably just had a …

As you get older, things are not always as you remember ‘em. If you remember ‘em at all! That was the topic of conversation last week when the Women Who Run With the Moose got together for our regular girls night out. Betty was hosting, and she was serving these watermelon margaritas, which, to be honest, are kind of an acquired taste. Luckily, after half a glass, you don’t really care! Plus, they’re garnished with melon balls, so they qualify as a fruit, right? Celeste says, “Remember how I told you that Bud and me were thinking about buying a couple of bikes? You know, it was something we used to do as teenagers, ride …

Bud’s the first of our little group to retire. Worked for Gagne’s & Sons Heating and Cooling for what? Thirty plus years, I guess. That’s dirty work, repairing furnaces and the like. Plus, you get called out at all hours, day and night. Weekends, too, don’t matter the weather. And unless you’re doing an annual cleaning, the people you’re dealing with are usually real upset. I mean, it’s ten degrees out, and no heat. They’re all bundled up, seeing their breath inside the house, and Bud’s gotta be the one who tells ‘em their furnace is shot. No fun. Once he hit sixty-five, Bud was outta there. When he started talking about retiring, I says …