I was walking Scamp Saturday morning, when I run into Hank and Pearl Plaistead. They were just getting back from breakfast down to the Busy Bee.

“We go early to get a good seat,” Pearl says. “Hank just loves to watch folks from away plunk down $4.50 for a cup of coffee.”

“Ah,” I reply, “Babe’s special Maine Mocha Latte Grandé!”

“Better known as Maxwell House poured over a Hershey’s Kiss, topped with Cool Whip.”

“Gotta love it!”

So Charlie and me go to the Knights of Columbus cookout the other day, 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.”

Our pig died. Well, jeez, we’d only had it since the ‘70s. I’d say we got our money’s worth.

I’m not talking about a real pig, of course. “Pig” is what we call garbage disposals in this neck of the woods.

So off we go to Bangor. They had way too many garbage disposals to chose from at Sears, but this fast-talking sales fella, Wayne, easily answered all our questions.

“Does this one come with everything we need to install it?” Charlie asks.

It’s that time of the summer when my petunias are getting leggy, and I’m feeling sluggish from too much potato salad, ice cream, and the like. A bit of exercise wouldn’t hurt, but who wants to in this heat? Charlie’s draggin’ around the house. Why, even our little dog Scamp’s looking kind of mangy. So, I checked the calendar and, yup, it’s been about six weeks. Time to take him to Clip ‘n Dip.

Just went to my high school reunion. Seems like we graduated only yesterday and a million years ago at the same time.