The other day, I was chatting with Charlie at supper, like you do. We’re catching up on our day, what happened at work, all that. I was telling him about running into Claudia Peavey down to the A&P. I’ve told you about Claudia and her husband Kurt before. Charlie and me refer to them as the “Yeah, but’s.” Meaning, don’t matter what you say to them, they’ll “yeah, but” you. For example, I say, “Hi, Claudia. Beautiful day out there, isn’t it?” And Claudia replies, “Yeah, but, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” You know the drill. So Charlie says to me, “What’s up with Claudia’s eyebrows?” Charlie asks me questions like this all the time. …

Ah, Valentine’s Day: that’s a favorite of mine. As a cashier down to the A&P, I get to see first hand all the nice stuff folks buy for their honeys: cards, red roses, and sweets for their sweeties. Plus, I get to wear red, which looks good on me (it’s in my color wheel). And, ofcourse, it’s a chance for Charlie to give me a box of chocolates and for me to bake him a batch of his favorite cookies. They’re your basic oatmeal raisin, except I use Raisinettes, so you get the chocolate and raisin thing going. Try it. They’re delicious! Valentine’s Day also signals that we only have about six more weeks of …

Moving too fast is usually my MO. Just like my mom, I’m pretty quick on my feet and pride myself on multitasking to the max. Scamp, who tends to be right on my heels, has to have good reflexes. I’m forever almost trampling him as I quickly change direction because I remembered something else I needed to do or something I forgot in another room. Poor little fella always looks startled, and I admit every once and awhile a word not meant for Scamp’s sensitive ears escapes my mouth because I’m startled, too. Now Charlie’s not what I’d call a multitasker, and is usually good at concentrating on the chore at hand. He’s methodical and …

Part of a happy marriage, in my opinion, is knowing what you’re good at and doing it. I’m a big fan of division of labor. Forcing Charlie to clean the house with me would be hell for both of us. And truth be told, I have no interest in going to the dump, mowing the lawn, or (God forbid!) snow blowing. We’ve just kind of negotiated and specialized over the years, and now we’re in a rhythm with it. Here’s Charlie’s take on this. I Do the Dishes Our kitchen is tiny There’s no room for two So when Ida’s cooking She tells me to shoo Me in the way Is not what she wishes …

I’m writing this on New Years Day. Charlie’s putting together a bird house he got for Christmas. He really wanted to get to it and it makes him happy, so why not? I told him, “No problem. I’ll walk Scamp this morning, and maybe we can all go out for an amble later on.” I enjoy a morning walk with the little guy. Not in the middle of a blizzard, of course. But the fact is, he gets me out lots of times when I wouldn’t bother. And amazing gifts come my way on these walks: a rosy sky at dawn with the dark silhouette of a tree’s bare branches, the smell of the outdoors …

I’m kind of embarrassed to put this out there. It’s just not the kind of thing you talk about in public. But I need some help here. I can not get the stink out of Charlie’s washcloths. I’ve googled the hell out of this one and nothing works. I’ve soaked them in vinegar which supposedly does the trick on sports bras. (Personally, I only have a passing acquaintance with sports bras seeing as I don’t like to work out hard enough to break a sweat.) I even tried boiling the darn things, but that was just too home on the prairie for me. I’m at the point where I’m thinking about buying a stack of …

Last Tuesday, I zip home from work, change my clothes and walk Scamp twice as long as I usually do because I’m trying to put some distance between me and all those Peanut Buster Parfaits I ate this summer. I’ve been wearing a Fitbit, and wasn’t even close to my goal of 10,000 steps a day. So I put the pedal to the metal (or the New Balance on the black top, as it were). Got home and whipped together a new healthy recipe for Pork Cacciatore (made with pork tenderloin) and served on spiralized zucchini. Of course, the recipe takes longer than it says on the instructions. Am I the slowest cook in the …

Okay, it’s Labor Day, and even though the summer flew by and I’m not ready, I’ve decided to focus on the positive. September is one of the nicest months of the year here in Maine. It’s full of clear, sunny days free of humidity, followed by those crisp nights, just perfect for snoozing. All of a sudden, the tourists have transformed from exasperated parents with their cranky, sunburned kids, to retired couples, kicking back and living the dream. And you can actually get a parking spot on Main Street! Me, I always get that back-to-business shot of energy ingrained no doubt from years of school. Years of September representing new outfits, new notebooks, and a …

I had the pleasure of sitting beside Snowdell Holden’s sister, Trudy, at the bean supper Saturday night. Trudy lives in Portland, but spends the summer up to her camp on Scoodic Lake. She’d driven over for the weekend. Like Snowdell, Trudy’s a pistol. Just turned 89, and doesn’t look a day over 79, which is quite a compliment when you’re pushing 90. Over beans, biscuits, cole slaw, hot dogs, not to mention the mac and cheese that somehow wandered onto my plate, we got to talking about Trudy’s life, like you do. Trudy’s a retired nurse, mother of five with eleven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. She’s been a widow for going on twenty years now. …

Last week, I shared Charlie’s poem about our good neighbor, Gus, who was kind enough to loan Charlie his mower while ours was in the shop. The adventure continued when the part came in, but Agway didn’t have time to install it. They figured they wouldn’t get to our mower for at least a few more weeks, so Charlie thought maybe he could install it himself. They gave him a demonstration on how to do it and everything. But you know what? Charlie’s getting wise in his old age. I’ll let him tell you about it.  Keep My Name on Your List  It’s height of the season, you know how it’s goin’: About every week, …