I learned about integrity early on by observing life in Mahoosuc Mills. Back then, people made deals with a handshake. You gave your word, and that was good enough. Some folks still do business that way. See, when you live in a small town, it’s important to protect your reputation ’cause people have long memories. My Grampy Gilbert taught me the value of giving my word when I was a young whippersnapper. I was reminded of this last weekend when I was straightening out our storage shed, and I come upon his old fishing creel tucked way in back. Beautiful thing. I opened the lid, and inside was a blood oath he made me sign …

Wow! What a week! The election is finally over and we’ll be in the midst of the holiday season in no time. Let’s savor this pause and take some time to do something nice for ourselves. You know, nourish our inner spirit, as my niece Caitlin would say. One of the best ways I know to nourish my inner spirit is to give back. You don’t have to write some big check to a charity, but you could buy some Girl Scout cookies or put a dollar in the Salvation Army bucket. You can volunteer on a weekly basis or for a special event. Or bake some brownies and take ’em down to the Senior …

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 …

Now, as many of you know, a women’s relationship with her hair stylist is a special one, and mine is no exception. It’s a bond born of loyalty, rooted in trust. Heck, no one knows your head like your hair stylist. The way I see it, you’re on a journey together, through the ever changing seas of style. Some storms you weather better than others, but you don’t just jump ship on a whim. Gynecologists come and go, but let’s face it: with hair dressers, you’re in for the long haul. I’ve been going to Pasty since she graduated from Bangor School of Cosmetology and opened Hair Affair some twenty-five years ago. Always on Saturday …

I was out walking around the neighborhood the other day and run into Pearl Plaisted dead-heading her geraniums. “Ida!” she says, “I haven’t seen you all summer. Why don’t you come in for some iced tea, dear?” “No need to twist my arm. I was going to do a little vacuuming, so thanks for rescuing me.” Pearl seemed a little stuck in the “half way up” position, so I give her an assist, and into the house we go. “Hank,” she yells, “you decent? Ida’s here.” We settled into the screened in porch, and got to talking about the big celebration coming up next weekend down to the K of C. Get this: Frank and …

Charlie and me are going to be on vacation, so no blog post for the next two weeks. I’ll be back on August 26. I bought a new vacuum cleaner head. The old one had seen better days. 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. If your husband is anything like Charlie, most likely he has a big, honking lawn mower and snow blower, too, for that matter. Why? Because if you have good equipment, it does a better job in less time. So true! A vacuum is something you use all year …

You know how we tend to confide in our hairdresser or bartender? As a cashier down to the A&P, folks tend to confide in me, too, even if they don’t always know they’re doing it. Because checking out a person’s groceries is more intimate than you image. You know who’s drinking a little too much, who has a Doritos habit and who’s addicted to the National Inquirer. You see the same folks once a week, minimum, and you can kind of sense whether they’re feeling their oats or not. So I’m working register 3 per usual, cashing out Roberta “Bobbie” Robbins, making conversation, like you do. “How’s that cute little dog of yours? Blah, blah. …

With all that’s going on in the country, it seems like we’ve forgotten some basic things we were taught as a kid. What happened to common courtesy? I miss it! So the other day, I’m on the phone with this catalogue company (I had a question about sizing, but that’s another blog). I pressed 2 and 1 and they launch into the usual spiel. “You’re a valuable customer, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah . . . The next available representative will be with you in a moment.” And I say, “Thank you!” It’s a recording, for God’s sake! I continue listening to a touching rendition of “Yesterday,” when I hear, “Your call is important to …

What to wear? What to have for dinner? God, I’m tired of making decisions! What time do we have to leave for the potluck? What should I make for the potluck, and when do I put it in the oven so it’s still warm when it gets there, but not too hot to handle? Sometimes, I think if I have to make another decision, my head will explode! Part of being a grownup is making decisions, of course. It kind of comes with the territory. Ever wonder why kids have more energy than we do? Stuff’s decided for ‘em! I think that’s why people hide out in monasteries and ashrams (or whatever they’re called). It’s …

Now usually, if I’ve got shopping to do, I try to rope in my sister or girlfriends. But shopping for a bra, that’s different. It takes concentration and fortitude. There’s no fooling around. So last weekend, off I went all by my lonesome to the Bangor Mall. To be honest, I was not in that great a mood. In my opinion, shopping for a new bra is right up there with buying for a new bathing suit. Both score very low on the ol’ fun-o-meter! So, I’m on Stillwater Ave in the turning lane, within spitting distance of the mall. I mean, I can see it. And my car dies. Yup, it goes kaput, put …