My new book, The Sweet Life: Ida LeClair’s Guide to Love and Marriage, comes out in two and a half weeks, and I’m wicked excited about it! To celebrate, my next few blogs are going to feature excerpts from the book. Here’s a bit from Chapter 2, “Getting Back to Basics.” Relationships are not rocket science, though sometimes it feels like sending a rocket into space would be easier. People have been coupling up since the dawn of time. That’s before cell phones and computer dating, before couples counseling and prenuptial agreements, before manscaping and the Brazilian (which I learned about recently and, let me tell you, I’m still in shock).     As with anything else …

After a certain age, your body changes. You and I know this to be true. The fat in your butt inches it’s way ‘round your stomach. That extra plumpness that was keeping your breasts perky has headed south for the duration, taking up permanent residence on your inner thighs. Your hair migrates from where you want it to someplace else, where you don’t. Then there’s the feet. Women, like me, tend to get bunions caused by shoes that are too tight, too narrow or too high. In short, they’re cute, but impractical. Hey, you have to suffer to be beautiful, right? Men get what Charlie and his friends call “old man feet.” I don’t even …

Remember last week, I was talking about cleaning our oven? Well, the thing I didn’t tell you, the thing that really got me on that was the night when I put the oven on to preheat and a little fire started inside. Wow, I thought, my mother and grandmother would be so disappointed in me. What a bad house keeper I am! So I tried to redeem myself by cleaning the oven. But then I started noticing little mouse droppings in a cupboard, behind the pepper grinder on the counter, near the sink. They were subtle. At first, I mistook them for a partially ground peppercorn, but eventually the penny dropped. I thought back to …

Ida explores if golfing vacations are good for couples and finds some surprising results.

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. …

Ida Leclair discusses how husbands work on special projects at the most inopportune times.

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 …

Few weeks back, Charlie’s out mowin’ the lawn. I’m putterin’ around the kitchen, you know, cleaning the stove top, excavatin’ the vegetable bin, when I happen to look out the window and see Charlie doin’ the two-step around the yard. Weird, I thought, but gee, he can move pretty fast for an old duffer. Later, I see him bending down, lookin’ under our big viburnum, the one by the bird house my niece Caitlin give us. When he comes in, I ask, “Charlie, what the heck were you doin’ out there?” “Mowing the lawn. What did it look like I was doin’?” “Gettin’ ready to audition for “So You Think You Can Dance?” “Very funny. …

Charlie come home from work the other day, and I could tell straight off, he had some sort of bee in his bonnet. “What’s a matter?” I ask. “I’m gonna mow the lawn ‘fore supper,” he says, stormin’ out the door and lettin’ it slam behind him. “OK. Sounds good.” Now, in the early years of our marriage, I’d try to get Charlie to tell me what was bothering him. I’d hug him, you know, wanting to make things better. Frankly, all that did was make him feel smothered. Then, I’d end up as miffed as he was. Nowadays, I give him a wide berth, let him work through whatever it is at his own …

Drivin’ along, what did I see? A big, blue tarp, up in a tree How did it get there? I thought to myself That’s not the work of some mischievous elf It was right around Whitey’s, yard sale heaven Where there’s always one goin’, 24-7 The tarp must’ve blown off their table, I betcha Perhaps Whitey Junior can climb up and get ya His father, I’m sure, will just let the thing be And Junior’s too fat to be climbin’ that tree I guess I could help ‘em to get the thing down But right now I’m busy, see you around! Now, who do you think’s responsible for that little nugget? William Shakespeare? Nope. Me? …