Charlie and me buzzed over to the Agway, Saturday. He was picking up his snow blower, which was in for a tune up, and I wanted to get some more bulbs to sneak into the ground. You know, before it’s too late. I got some assorted tulips and daffodils. Come spring, you can’t have enough of them, in my opinion. Those hopeful, green shoots pokin’ their way up out of the remaining patches of snow. Then, gorgeous flowers: red, yellow, pink, orange! It perks my spirit up, no end.  I also got three amaryllis, the kind that come in a box, you grow from scratch. Boy, when they bloom, they look so pretty on our …

When was the last time you screamed? I mean really let loose? I think mine must be riding the roller coaster down to the Skowhegan Fair eons ago. That was until the Halloween Spook-tacular at the Buchard’s Farm. See, last Thursday morning, I says to Charlie, “Why don’t we check out that haunted tour thingy over to the Buchards tonight?” “We already did that.” “Years ago. Come on. It’ll be fun.” Famous last words. First off, it was warm, like 70 degrees. You’d think that would be great, right? But it felt kinda unnatural and only served to heighten the spooky factor. Everything starts off kinda cozy at the farm stand. We’re put in a …

I had a hankering for some banana bread, is how it started. So I bought three bananas when I did the grocery shopping last week. You need ripe bananas for banana bread, so I set them aside thinking, I’ll make the bread this weekend. I says to Charlie, “I’m saving these bananas for banana bread, OK?” No reply. “Charlie!” I hold up the bananas. “I’m saving these bananas for banana bread.” “Heard you the first time.” “Well, sometimes it’s hard to tell.” “What do you want to me to do? A cartwheel” “No need to get sarcastic. A simple “OK” or “yup” would be sufficient.” Again, nothing. Honest to God! It’s enough to drive a …

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 …

I spent a little over $80 on lipstick. Really! And I’m over the moon happy about it, too! See, I’ve been wearing the same shade of lipstick for years: “Berry Nice.” (Who comes up with these names, anyways?) It’s the perfect shade of lipstick for me: not too red, not too orange, not too pink. It’s just, well, Berry Nice! Oh, I’ve experimented with other colors over the years, but they never quite measure up. They might look like a good option in the store, but when I get the lipstick home and try it on for real: disaster! I either look washed out, or my skin seems kind of sallow. Or the color’s too …

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 …

It happened again, like it happens every summer. Charlie was out doing yard work and got stung by yellowjackets. He was trimming a shrub and his ladder must have hit a nest or poked a hole or something and out they came. I was taking a nap and he was working on the other side of the house, so I didn’t hear him yelling. When I got up, I found him dead asleep in the Barcalounger. He was some groggy when he finally woke up. “Charlie, you don’t seem yourself. What’s up?” “Got stung by some yellowjackets. Came it here and went to sleep.” “You didn’t think to tell me?” “No, you were napping.” “Charlie, …

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 …

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. …

I’m one of those folks who capture wasps, spiders and even stinkbugs and set them free outside. It’s just how I roll. Charlie’s gets all riled up by squirrels on the bird feeders, but I figure if they’re smart enough to get to the food, let them have a little reward. I like watching the groundhog family in our yard ’round dinner time and this year we have a little gray fox. Ants in the house cross the line, and I do put out those little ant traps. But whatever happens with that happens outta my sight, so it doesn’t seem that bad, right? But there’s something about mice in the kitchen that just doesn’t …