“How’d you sleep?” Charlie asked me, as he does most mornings. This was a few weeks ago. “Oh, you know, got up every few hours to pee. The usual. ‘Til about 4:00. That’s when I made the mistake of thinking.” “Well, sweetheart, you have a lot on your mind.” “I don’t have a sleeping problem. I got a thinking problem.” “I hear you. Once we have a game plan, we’ll feel better.” “I think you’re right. It’s the not knowing that’s driving me nuts.” See, at the beginning of December, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I know! What a delightful holiday surprise, huh? Not only was I surprised, so was every doctor I dealt …

So on Saturday, my car needed to go in for a little work. It was sounding weird. The kind of thing where when the radio’s on, you don’t notice. But then you’re giving someone a ride and your car sounds like it’s on it’s last legs. You look over, and your friends seems a little nervous, and you realize you should probably be, too. I have to go to Bangor for my mammogram on Thursday. (I know, the fun never ends!) And I didn’t want to worry that my car wasn’t going to make it. That’s nerve racking to say the least, and is a fabulous way to make a long drive even longer. So …

It’s unbelievable how fast time flies as I get older. It seems like it was just Labor Day. We had such a beautiful fall, and I enjoyed every minute of it. But already Halloween is behind us, and Turkey Day is just around the corner. So, I guess we are officially in the holiday season. I mean, Christmas stuff is already in some stores. I say it every year, but it bears repeating: there ought to be a law against that. It’s like mums in August, just too soon. Pumpkins and Santa should not share shelf space. And then you add Tom Turkey into the mix. It’s unnatural!  I’ve been pondering this, and I think …

My dad doesn’t have a lot of schooling, but if common sense counts, he’s a pretty smart guy. Kind of a philosopher, really. For example, his take on marriage. “A good marriage is like a good fire; you have to tend it to make it burn bright.” Of course he also said, “Tending a fire is a delicate thing. If you leave it be too long, it’ll go out. But if you put too much wood on it, you’ll smother the flame.” So, I was talking to dad this week, you know, checking in. At eighty-four, he’s slowing down some. He doesn’t play golf or bowl anymore, and he’d stopped doing a lot of activities …

Why don’t they have an express lane at Jo-Ann Fabric?! I mean, I was in there Saturday. All I needed some thread to match a button that had fallen off one of my sweaters, and the thread on the other buttons was a shade of blue I just didn’t have in my sewing kit. Isn’t that always the way?   I find my thread, no problem. Sure, I had to nudge aside an old lady checking out the fake flowers, and I may have hip-checked a kid playing with the ribbons (just kidding), but so far, so good. What I didn’t take into account was the fact that it’s a Saturday in late September, and …

Ida Leclair talks about what to do when you get trapped by a nonstop talker.

I have a whole chapter in my book, The Sweet Life, about how to deal money because money, or lack of it, can cause a lot of stress in a marriage. Now, I don’t give any advice on how to invest your hard-earned cash. I just share ways to approach money on a day-to-day basis, things that have worked for Charlie and me. Some of it we’ve been doing since we got married, and some we had to learn the hard way. I want to save you some pain. I’ve heard that rich people find it kind of tacky to talk about money, but for the rest of us, well, we gotta. I’m not saying …

This week’s blog appears in my book, The Sweet Life, but it bears repeating. ‘Tis the season. Up ‘til the economy tanked, “staycation” wasn’t even a word. There’s a reason for that. See how only half the word resembles “vacation”? That’s a hint as to the outcome of most staycations. At best, they’re kind of like a vacation. At worse, they’re more like a week spent in the Gulag. Charlie and me learned this the hard way a few years back. We’d never taken a staycation, so we thought we’d give it a try. We even made a plan, well kind of. We’d scrape and repaint the deck the first weekend, ‘cause it needed it …

Ran into Franny Ward down to the A&P the other day. She was standing in the express lane looking happy as a clam. I was about to go on break anyway, so I shut of my register light and went over to say hi.  Along with me and a handful of others, Franny is one of the Saturday morning regulars with Patsy down to Hair Affair. It’s always the same bunch of women, reading the same magazines, under the same hairdryers, dishing about celebrities and locals alike. We are equal opportunity gossipers. Did you see that movie “Steel Magnolias?” It’s kind of like that, only with snow or black flies. I call us the Sturdy …

I haven’t always been the best sleeper, and Charlie’s snoring doesn’t help. Menopause, either. Though to be honest, I crossed that bridge a long time ago, so technically, I’m post-menopause, which sounds like I’m just this side of dead. Anyhoo, that’s how I’ve been sleeping lately, like the dead, and it’s blissful. Why the improvement? I’d say it’s a combo platter of a few things. First and foremost, Charlie started doing a couple hits of nasal spray before he goes to bed, and it’s made all the difference in the world. His snoring has ratcheted down to a soft purr. I know it’s the nasal spray because during the day when he’s dozing in the …