The Sweet Life: Ida LeClair’s Guide to Love and Marriage is officially out into the world. We had a wicked fun book launch and tomorrow I’ll be at the Patten Free Library in Bath doing my first reading. Next week, I’ll be in Hallowell at the Hubbard Free Library. Let the fun begin! The Sweet Life covers all the basics in a relationship including losing your mate, grieving, and in time, maybe starting to date again. Here’s a little something from Chapter 11.      You lost your spouse. You’re still grieving, but some time has passed, and you’re feeling the need for a little companionship. Nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s a good …

One day last week, I took Scamp out for his walk. It was a rainy morning, but I geared up and went anyways. Dogs are great that way. They get you out and about when you’d be tempted to sit around, drinking coffee in your bathrobe. It was only sprinkling, really, so we decided to do our usual half hour jaunt. But on the way back, the rain amped up and so did the wind, right into our faces. So, I’m walkin’ as fast as I can, really in a rhythm with it, when it happens: a song pops into my head. It’s “Laughter in the Rain” by Neil Sedaka. Ooh, I hear laughter in …

Wow! Compared to last winter, this one has been a breeze, hasn’t it? (Knock on wood.) Good thing, too. I don’t think Charlie’s back couldn’t have taken another February like the one we had in 2015. Because even with a plow on your truck, you still gotta snow blow the paths to the shed and the mailbox and for the oil and gas dilivery guys. Then, there’s shoveling off the deck and the steps and don’t forget, raking the roof. Swear to God, I think we still had piles of unmelted snow into April! But this winter, we’ve actually seen the grass between small dumpings of the white stuff. And some days, it’s felt like …

A few weeks ago, my Dad calls me up for a little advice. “Ida,” he says, “a friend of mine wants to sell his condo, and he’s on the third floor. Where does he bury St. Joseph if he doesn’t really have a yard?” “Gee, beats me. Let me do a little research, Dad, and I’ll get back to you.” “Thanks, honey.” You’ve heard of this, right? You want to sell your house, so you bury a statue of St. Joseph upside down in the yard. You do a novena every day for nine days, St. Joseph puts in a word with the Big Guy, and you sell you house lickety-split. We did this when …

Last week, I’m drivin’ back from Bangor where I’d been (what else) shopping. It’s a new year, and I decided to freshen up our bathroom with new towels. You know it’s bad when your husband notices. “Charlie, what’s up with the beach towel in the bathroom?” “Geesh, the ones we’re usin’ are the worse for wear, kind of thin and scratchy, so I thought I’d give that one a go instead.” “You’re right, we do have an Econo Lodge kind of thing goin’ on. I’ve been too busy to deal with it. But things have quieted down. I’ll get right on it. You know how much I love a shoppin’ assignment.” “That I do, dear. …

Public service reminder: if a chunk of something, say a sweet potato, is stuck in your immersion blender, always unplug it before stickin’ your finger up near the blades to clear the gunk away.

Me and the Women Who Run With the Moose not only survived Black Friday, we had a heck of a good time to boot. Nothin’ new there. Though, to be honest, my right arm is still feelin’ a little wonky. Must’ve strained it carrying all those shoppin’ bags and my purse, of course, which my sister Irene calls “the overnight bag.” Even though I try to remember to switch off, I always tend to carry the heaviest stuff with my right arm. Gotta say, smart phones and textin’ have made things so much easier. For a casual shoppin’ trip, me and the girls tend to stick together. But all bets are off on Black Friday …

There’s a couple here in Mahoosuc Mills who are so cheap, they squeak when they walk. They have everything budgeted right down to the penny. And, get this, they have to account to each other for every, single cent they spend. I’m mean, they buy a pack of Juicy Fruit gum, they get a receipt and fess up. I witnessed this very thing at Cumbies over the weekend. This guy asked for a receipt for his pack of gum! I’m all for havin’ a budget, but you know what? I’m too old for extreme anything. Even with the tightest of budgets, I believe you each need a little fun money to spend anyway you want …

My Grandmother, Dora Gilbert, used to freeze her garbage. This was in the days before garbage disposals, so there was a lot to freeze. But she didn’t let that intimidate her. For Dora, freezing garbage was more than just a way to keep it from stinking. It was an art form. I can see my grandmother now standing in her immaculate kitchen, a little Franco-American woman with permed gray hair, full make-up, a house dress, nylon stockings, sensible shoes and a bib apron, carefully wrapping her garbage in little foil packets. ‘Course there’s nothing really unusual about freezing garbage. Not in my family, anyway. We all freezes our garbage. Having a garbage disposal doesn’t really …

Saturday morning, Charlie and me went out for breakfast down to the Busy Bee. Now that Labor Day has passed, the tourists are thinning out, so us locals can actually get a seat. My sister Irene and her husband Jimbo were planning to meet us there. We arrive to find them sitting at an outdoor table, shooting the breeze with Craig Holden. “Hey there, Craig,” I says. “How you doing?” Gosh, Craig must be in his forties now. He’s Snowdell Holden’s grandson. Snowdell’s the former postmistress of Mahoosuc Mills, and reigning grand poobah of the local chapter of the Red Hatters. But that’s another story. Jimbo goes, “Craig’s trying to unload a rooster.” “Would you …