Fall has been playing footsie with summer for weeks now, and you know what? Summer’s ready to put on some socks. Sure, the days warm up pretty good, but the mornings are nippy. Truth be told, there have been a few times when I’ve turned the heat on a smidge, just to take the edge off. Don’t tell Charlie!

What to wear? What to have for dinner? God, I’m tired of making decisions! What time do we have to leave for the potluck? What should I make for the potluck, and when do I put it in the oven so it’s still warm when it gets there, but not too hot to handle? Sometimes, I think if I have to make another decision, my head will explode!

Part of being a grownup is making decisions, of course. It kind of comes with the territory. Ever wonder why kids have more energy than we do? Stuff’s decided for ‘em!

So last Wednesday, I’m having Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot, and Shirley over to the house for a little birthday celebration for Celeste, right? Got the place all spiffed up. I wish I could be more relaxed when entertaining, but I just can’t. It’s important to me that everything’s looking good, clean and tidy. Set the table the day before, so I don’t get jammed up last minute. Splurged on some fresh flowers.

Saturday morning, I went to a yoga class with my niece, Caitlin. She’s been bugging me for ages to go with her, and I figured now’s as good a time as any. Summer’s over, and I’m trying to get back on the good foot, diet and exercise-wise. Besides, Zumba doesn’t start up again ‘til October, so what the heck, right? As they say, the older you get, the more important it is to try new things.

A friend of mine died last week: heart attack, from out of nowhere. Joanne was a wonderful woman: full of life, a joy to be around. We were friendly in high school, then drifted. That happens. But I’d just seen her at our reunion this summer, and we struck up a great conversation. Joanne lives, well, lived in Connecticut, but we promised each other we’d get together for lunch the next time she was in town visiting her parents.

Alas, the end of summer is upon us. But to be honest, we’ve been feeling it up here in Mahoosuc Mills for a couple of weeks now. Though it heats up during the day, there’s a definite nip in the air once the sun goes down. “Good sleeping weather,” Charlie calls it. In the evening, I make sure to close all the windows (except in the bedroom), so it’s not too chilly in the house come morning. And our first shipment of mums has arrived at the A&P. I haven’t surrendered to buying any yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

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.