We’ve been having some wacky weather here in Mahoosuc Mills. A few weeks ago we had a snow storm that turned to icy rain. Then, we had a cold snap which left our driveway looking like Antarctica. Since then, we’ve been on a roller coaster ride of cold snaps and spring-like weather. So, about normal for winter in Maine, though so far, February is looking more like March. Go figure! Anyhoo, Charlie’s had a run for his money keeping the driveway up to par, making sure we don’t fall and break a hip. Yet, he did find time to write me a love poem. At first glance, I know it doesn’t look like a love …

Charlie and me were taking a Sunday morning walk, just the two of us. Scamp doesn’t really do walks anymore. We take him out in the yard, where he pees, then stands and sniffs the air for about five minutes not willing to go any further. Guess he’s deciding whether or not he has to poop. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. 50/50 chance on those mornings when doesn’t go outside, he realizes later he had to go after all, and leaves a little deposit or two around the house. More times than not in the bathroom, if you can believe it. He’s always been a smart little fella. Anyhoo, Charlie and me were out …

I was looking through old photo albums the other day, when I come across this Halloween gem. I don’t know what Irene and me were supposed to be, but it must have been some cold and crappy out. Check out the winter coats and boots. If you look close, you can see Irene has a knit hat on behind her cat mask. Maybe that’s why she’s holding it up, instead of wearing it. (That mask was probably a tight fit with the hat on.) I think I see the hint of a hood behind my mask. And what’s up with Irene’s cape, with the dancing circus dogs on it? My biggest concern when I look …

So, I’m at Mikey’s Meat Market on Thursday after work. I buy the basic stuff down to the A&P, of course, but when it comes to meat, I go to Mikey’s. It’s a good old fashioned meat market with red-faced butchers out back cutting meat, and guys (yup, only guys) behind the counter. These fellas really know their stuff, including how long to cook just about anything you’re buying. So anyways, I’m waiting in line. There was a pause in the action and no customers are in there except for me and Mildred Campbell. We’re standing side by side, both staring into the meat case. I’m considering how many pork chops I should buy, and …

I just love yard sales. I love going to them, and I love having them. Because the thing is, if you go to a lot of yard sales, you have to have a yard sale every once in a while to get rid of the stuff you bought at the other yard sales, right? Oh, I’ve gotten some wicked good stuff at yard sales. Like one of them crocheted toilet paper covers, only with a poodle on top. (I kid you not). And at Debbie Ledoux’s last year, a bobble head moose and a hand-painted wooden frog for my frog collection. Score! I’ve also bought crap that looked good in the heat of the moment. …

Last weekend, we hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp on Moose Megantic Lake. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. Not all of us can make it, usually, but this year it was a full boat. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about what we used to talk about (which honestly, I can’t quite remember what that was), we talk about retirement, grandchildren, and, if we’re lucky enough to still have them, our aging parents. We may even engage in an organ recital. That’s when we describe our aches and pains and replacement parts (new hip, knee or …

The 19th annual Antique Tractor and Engine Show took place up to the Bouchard Brother’s Farm last weekend. Hoo, boy! Charlie was like a kid, he was so jacked up. “Three more days ‘til the tractor show, Ida!” Both men and women love this event! Men, because there are tractors, of course, and all them old engines, “antique” tools and the like. (Me? I think “antique” is just a code word for “rusty.” But beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, right?) Women love it because the men are occupied and out of their hair all weekend. It’s a win/win situation. I go to the pancake breakfast Saturday morning (Well, who doesn’t like a pancake …

Charlie and me were out for a Sunday drive, and happened to pass Agnes Brown’s place out on Duck Pond Road. “Slow down, Charlie. Look, Aggie’s got ladders up!” “Ida, them ladders been up over a year.” “No!” “Seen them there last winter, under a foot of snow.” “There should be a law! You are not allowed begin another home improvement project ‘til you’ve finished the last one.” “Or in Aggie’s case, the last ten or twenty projects.” “Wow! What a way to live!” “One year, Ida, I kid you not, I think she put up one shingle.” “Come on!” “Really. Billy Pritchard told me. He lives in the grey house over there. Keeps an …

Sometimes it seems like being cranky, whining, complaining, and moping are the glue that holds us together. There are whole television programs devoted to it. And hey, I get it. We have a lot to be cranky about right now. Still gets on my nerves, though. Charlie, too. Cranky Don’t Cut It This fella Mel, who’s on my shift The one who operates the lift? Of all the guys we’re employing Mel’s become the most annoying ‘Cause if you need complaining done Mel’s your fella, he’s the one Who’ll get the other fellas riled Me, as well, it put it mild How he prattles, all day long ‘Bout everything that’s going wrong The roads, the …

“My mom’s memory is like a window opening and closing.” That’s what my co-worker Lisa said to me, a few years ago. I thought I knew what she meant, but I didn’t. Not really. Now, I get it. My dad is down to Mahoosuc Green, our senior living facility here in town. He bought in a few years after my mom died, and had the cutest little apartment in the independent living wing, Dirigo Way. But, a few months into lockdown, I got the call, “Ida, we feel your father’s no longer Dirigo Way material.” Ouch! I guess Dad needed a little more help with things. You know, like showering, cueing (reminding him when he’s …