Just went to my high school reunion. Seems like we graduated only yesterday and a million years ago at the same time.
So I’m working at the A&P on Thursday, when I overhear a conversation between Amy Plourde and Stephanie Jackson that went something like this:
“How’d your yard sale go last weekend?” Amy asks.
“What a waste of time!” Stephanie replies. “First, we spend all day Friday getting ready. Then, we get up at the crack of dawn on Saturday and haul it out to the driveway, while people with big vans and pick-ups cruise back and forth like sharks, waiting for us to set up.”
It’s Saturday morning and Charlie’s running ‘round like a chicken with it’s head cut off. In and out, in and out. Door slamming. Muttering to himself. Finally, he gets into his truck and starts ‘er up. I breath a sigh of relief, sit down, and begin making my list of things to do for the day.
Next thing I know, Charlie’s barging in the house again.
“Ida, you see my wallet?”
“Did you look in yesterday’s pants?”
It’s a beautiful day here in Mahoosuc Mills: high seventies, no humidity, sun shinin’, birds singin’. I’m sitting at my computer thinking about what I’m going to write about this week, when across the street, I see two men wheeling a stretcher up the walkway to the Phinneys’ front door. Weird! Never heard an ambulance. But as I look more closely, I see there’s a body bag on the stretcher. My heart sinks as I realize: Lois has finally died, poor dear.
Well, Fourth of July is behind us and summer is in full swing here in Mahoosuc Mills: picnics, yard sales, tourists, BBQ’s, watermelon, iced tea, tourists, boat rides, s’mores, and did I mention the tourists? Gotta love ‘em!
So the other day, I’m working at the A&P, ringing out Pearl Plaisted when I notice she has on the cutest pair of angel earrings.
“Pearl,” I says, “look at those angel earrings. Aren’t they just adorable?” (See, I believe if someone is looking sharp, you should tell ‘em.)
Pearl smiles. “Got ‘em down to the Dollar Store. Fifty cents!”
“That is a bargain at twice the price! Oh, and look at your angel pin.”
Father’s Day never seems to get quite the attention Mother’s Day does. I think it’s ‘cause they’re both holidays dreamed up by big, business types to sell stuff, and, let’s face it, women are just easier to buy for. Or maybe it’s because fathers tend to hang in the background, while mothers get most all of the praise for how their kids turns out. So Father’s Day is quieter, more mellow. Less pressure.
When was the last time you hung around doing nothin’? I mean just lollygagging’ about, watching the day go by? The older you get, the tougher that is to pull off. There’s always something that needs to be done, even on weekends. Especially on weekends! Why, even vacations tend to be jam-packed.
I was walking Scamp a couple of weeks ago, when I see our neighbor down the street, Pearl Plaisted. She was down there on her knees, planting some annuals around her light post. We start gabbing, of course, catching up.
“Pearl,” I says, “is your yard ever looking sharp! Those rhodies are gorgeous!”
“I know, Ida. They’re taking over!”
“I can’t believe how big they are. I remember when you first put them in. What a nice thing to come home to.”
Well, the weather’s warmed up a bit, thank goodness. I was getting really tired of painting my toenails, then taking off the polish, and painting them again.
“Ida!” my husband says, a curious look on his face. “What the heck are you doin’?”
“Charlie, you just wouldn’t understand.”