We celebrated Dot and Tommy’s fortieth wedding anniversary over the weekend, with a big blow-out up to their camp. We had lobsters and steamers, coleslaw, macaroni salad, corn on the cob, ambrosia (I brought that) and homemade biscuits. And the desserts? Oh, Mister Man! Don’t know if I was more buzzed by the sweets or the sugar-free Jell-O shots (gotta save calories where we can)! Oh, and Junior made his famous bean hole beans. Ever had ‘em? It’s a guy thing ‘cause, you know, it involves digging a hole, filling it with old tire chains and playing around with fire for a good three hours. The woman helps out a bit,  prepping the beans, getting …

You know how up to camp, especially one that’s been in the family a long time, there are these tacky knickknacks that no one has the heart to get rid of? Sure the stuff’s ugly, but they’re part of the overall ambiance of the place, and camp just wouldn’t be the same without ‘em. Camp is like your catch-all closet, only bigger. Don’t know what to do with the thing? Bring it up to camp. There are the mismatched mugs with logos from businesses that don’t exist anymore. Your kids pottery projects or, let’s be honest here, your pottery projects from when you were a kid. Ceramics gone horribly wrong. You know what I’m talking …

Was the Fourth of July weird for you this year? It was for us up here in Mahoosuc Mills, with no parade or fireworks. But we celebrated anyways up to Dot and Tommy’s camp. It was a great solution to the physical distancing thing. It’s easy to spread out up there. It was the usual suspects: Celeste and Bud, Rita and Smitty, Betty and Pat, Dot and Tommy (of course), Shirley and Junior, and me and Charlie. We were smart about it, and followed the game plan us girls come up with. We all took our temperatures before we went. BYOB. There was hand sanitizer on the food table. When you got near the food …

Charlie get’s his new hip today, and it’s been a busy week getting all our ducks in a row. This kind of thing makes you think about your life together, you know, all you’ve been through. So I thought I’d revisit the story of how Charlie and me got together. It appears in my book, The Sweet Life.  Puppy Love I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know Charlie. Mahoosuc Mills is a small town, so he was always in the background somewheres, plowing with his Dad, stacking wood for Mrs. Thibodaux, riding his bike to Blue’s General Store to get licorice or playing hockey for Mahoosuc High. Best as I …

Last weekend, guess what we did. Hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about work, it’s all about when we plan to retire, how long we’re going to try to wait to collect Social Security. Instead of our kids, we talk about aging parents and grand kids. Instead of envelopes of loose photos, we take turns squintin’ at our smart phones, trying to find that great shot we just have to share. We travel more. We drink less alcohol and more decaf.  But some things stay …

Well, we had an incident up to Dot and Tommy’s camp this weekend that was wicked embarrassing. It’s really Charlie’s story to tell, so I’ll let him. After all, he is, by default, the Poet Laureate of Mahoosuc Mills. Stinkfoot, by Charlie LeClair Sunday, Ida, me and Scamp We’re up to Dot and Tommy’s camp All the gang were comin’, too Tommy planned a barbeque His plans, alas, were all in vain When darn, if it began to rain “Bring the food in!” Tommy cried And we were forced to move inside There we ate, and all was well ‘til some of them complained of smell I thought the hubbub was excessive But soon the …