Just Ask Ida

Up to Camp

Spent the weekend up to Dot and Tommy’s camp on Moose Megantic Lake. It was just Dot and Tommy, of course, Charlie and me, and Shirley and Junior. Rita had to work down to Smitty’s hardware. She runs the store with her husband, Smitty. Betty and Pat were off golfing in Bethel, I think. And Celeste and Bud were visiting their grandkids in Veazie. 

 

So, since it was just the three couples, we did an overnighter. It’s nice to get away, though I did miss our little dog, Scamp. Too many people to have him under foot, so he went to stay with my sister, Irene. She’s great with him, and Scamp comes back even more spoiled than when we dropped him off (hard to imagine, I know)!

Charlie just loves Dot and Tommy’s camp. For one thing, he gets to visit his old barcalounger. Dot bought it a few years back at our yard sale. The only way I could get rid of that thing was to promise Charlie it would go to a good home. And it did. 

Oh, is he ever glad to see it! We arrive, Tommy hands him a Bud, and Charlie bee-lines it for his old recliner. He settles in to that mangy upholstery like it’s some long, lost pal, and nothing short of fishing or the dinner bell will get him up again.

So, what did we do up to camp? Nothing that breaks a sweat, I’ll tell you! Oh, the boys did some fishing: catch and release. Us girls love it because it gets them out of our hair. Plus, we don’t have to clean and fry up the fish. 

We did a little cooking, of course, but mostly we just sat around and talked. There’s a killer view of the lake from the screened-in porch. Better than TV! Dot and I love to rock on the squeaky old glider love seat. We rock at the same speed, which is probably a little faster than some people would like. Shirley goes, “You two think that glider is some kind of amusement park ride? I’m not sitting in that thing with either of you. You rock so fast, it makes me sea sick!” 

Dot and Tommy’s camp is chuck full of old furniture and tacky knick-knacks that have somehow accumulated over the years. Dot bought the camp from her parents when it got too much for them. She hasn’t changed it a lot because her parents still get up to camp a couple times a month during the summer. She wants them to feel at home with their stuff.

Every time we go up there, I discover some new treasure. I’m sitting at the table Saturday noon, when I see something brown and lumpy on top of the fridge. “Dottie,” I says. “What the hell is that?”

She takes the treasure down from it’s perch. “What does it look like?”

I study it hard. “I don’t know. A big ceramic baked potato?”

“Got it in one!”

“That’s one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” Shirley chimes in.

“Wait!” Dot goes. “There’s a matching one in the cabinet, only bigger!”

“Serving bowls, right?” I ask, lifting the lid.

“Yup. But I’ve never had the stomach to use ‘em.”

Shirley goes, “So why don’t you just get rid of them?” 

“Believe me, the minute my mother goes, they go. I’ve tried to break it dropping it on the floor, you know, “accidentally,” but it’s not only ugly, it’s indestructible.”

The other thing that got us going were these two ceramic animals hanging on the wall in the stairway up to the second floor. They kind of look like squirrels, but have buck teeth, so they could be beavers. It’s hard to tell. “What are these things, Dottie?”

Dot told us that when her nephew Bobby was there, he dubbed them “squeavers.” He fancies himself a singer/song writer (when he’s not working down to Home Depot), and he come up with a limerick about them I copied down to share with you folks:

Have you heard of the North Country Squeaver?

He looks like an underachiever

His tail kind of curls

Like that of a squirrel

And his buck teeth are big as a beaver!

 “Bobby shouldn’t quit his day job,” Tommy quipped. God, we have some laughs!

My favorite thing about camp, I think, is falling asleep to the loons. It’s a lonesome sound, but comforting, too: a far away melody behind the rumble of my friends snoring. Then it’s morning with coffee brewing and bacon sizzling. Eating breakfast out on the screened-in porch, looking at the lake, smooth as glass. Seeing Charlie relaxed, all of us talking and laughing, and feeling like right here on Moose Magantic Lake, right now, the world is doing fine.

That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!

IDA's PODCAST: Up To Camp

Upcoming Shows & Book Events: Summer

August 9 A Visit With Ida, Storytelling by the Sea, 7:15 p.m., Castine, ME

August 14  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 15  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 19  Reading, Southwest Harbor Public Library, 5:30 p.m., Southwest Harbor, ME

September 4  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH

September 5  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH

Holy Fudge

So, I’m standing at the check out of one of them new, “old fashioned” general stores, clutching a bag of penny candy, when I suddenly spy the fudge counter. What a dilemma!

The Women Who Run With the Moose (which is me and my friends Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley) take field trips from time to time, and we were on our way home from a whirlwind shopping excursion to the outlet malls in North Conway. Plum tuckered out from all that bargain hunting, we needed a little nourishment to fuel our trip back to Mahoosuc Mills. That’s when the store appeared right on cue. We piled out of Shirley’s Bonneville (that’s the only car big enough to hold all six of us), and went in search of sustenance.

Now, us girls are evenly divided in terms of preference, with Rita, Dot and Shirley going for the crunchy, salty snacks, and Celeste, Betty and me gravitating more toward the smooth, sweet stuff. I bypassed the “I Heart New Hampshire” t-shirts and balsam pillows, and went straight for the penny candy.  

See, I love penny candy. It reminds me of when I was a kid. What a treat it was for my sister Irene and me to go to Blue’s, the gas station and general store that old Mr. Blouin and his wife used to run in Mahoosuc Mills. Inside were two glass fronted, wooden cabinets filled with penny candy (this was back in the old days when penny candy actually cost a penny). Irene and me could spend half the morning debating the merits of Mary Janes versus Squirrels. Coconut Watermelon Strips or Mint Juleps? Mrs. Blue was always patient, letting us take our time, and occasionally giving us a cream soda to share while we weighted our options.

So on this particular day in the New Hampshire general store, I selected three each of Mary Janes, Squirrels, Bulls Eyes, and mini Tootsie Rolls (I like to alternate one of each kind to keep the taste fresh). For good measure, I grabbed a York Peppermint Patty to cleanse my palette.

I was all set to check out when I spied the fudge counter. Don’t do it, I’m thinking, but my feet just started walking in that direction. Though momentarily distracted by the Snickers fudge, I found what I was looking for. Yes! Second flavor from the left: penuche with walnuts! 

My father’s sister, Georgiana, always gave us a box of Penuche Fudge with walnuts at Christmas time. I’ve never tasted anything quite like that fudge (though that hasn’t stopped me from trying). It was heavenly! Not only that, it was blessed by the church. See, Georgiana was a nun, and because she made the fudge with the other nuns she lived with, we referred to it as “holy fudge”. 

I’ll just get a taste, I’m thinking. Then, I saw the sign: “Quarter pound minimum.”  

“Would you like some fudge?” the woman behind the counter asks. 

“I’m trying to decide how sick I want to make myself.” 

Because here’s the thing: as I’ve gotten older, my body doesn’t tolerate sugar the way it used to. If I’m not careful, I get this wicked headache, and suddenly I’m beyond snappy. The last time I went on a sugar bender, my husband Charlie says, “Ida, candy may take you back to your childhood, but all it takes me back to are the days of PMS.” I stared at the Penuche. 

“How big’s a quarter pound?” I ask.

“About like this.” The woman pointed to a piece that didn’t look all that big. 

I knew I couldn’t get both the penny candy and the fudge. Chances are, I’d demo all of it before we hit the outskirts of Mahoosuc Mills. Then, I might as well just fire up my boom and fly home. I just couldn’t do that to Charlie and our little pup, Scamp. Besides, my friends were all checked out and waiting for me.

“Quarter pound of Penuche with walnuts,” I said. I figured the protein and anti-oxidants in the nuts would kind of balance things out.  

I put back the penny candy, while the woman packaged the penuche and rang me up: $4.00! I’m thinking, maybe I made the wrong decision, but it’s too late now. I’ve committed, and I’m just going to have deal with it best I can.

“Would you like a little knife?” the women asks.

At first, I had to think about what she meant. Then, I got it. “Oh, a little knife so I can share. Sure,” I says (not likely, I’m thinking. The Women Who Run With the Moose share a lot of things, but dessert’s not one of them). 

When I got in the car, as much as I wanted to just bite off a hunk of the fudge, I decided not to do it. I would be civilized, cut myself a moderate piece of Penuche and close the bag up. Pace myself. I took a taste. 

Let me tell you, that fudge was so sweet it kind of made the glands behind my ears ache. It didn’t taste quite like holy fudge, but it would do.

I cut off another small piece and ate it. I was feeling a little nauseous by then, so I put the fudge away. For about fifteen minutes. Then I pinched off another piece, and another. 

By the time we reached Mahoosuc Mills, half the Penuche was gone, and I was cultivating a dull headache. I walk into our house, and when Scamp greeted me with his usual “I never thought I’d see you again!” excitement, I felt sort of overwhelmed. Give me some space, I’m thinking. Then, when Charlie didn’t tear himself away from the evening news, I could feel the irritation building. The least he could do is get up and say hello! Oh, and look, he didn’t even sort the mail! What a surprise!. And boy, I knew was in trouble.  

Before pinching another piece of Penuche, I take the bag into the bathroom, and using the little knife, I cut the fudge into chunks, and flush ‘em down the toilet. 

See, I couldn’t just throw the bag of fudge in the trash. Because between you and me, when it comes to sweets, I’ve been known to return to the trash, dig out the bag, open it up and continue where I left off. 

And that is the end of my confession. For penance, I’m gonna say one Our Father, two Hail Mary’s and eat a salad with low-cal dressing.

That’s more than enough for now. Catch you on the flip side! 

IDA's PODCAST: Holy Fudge

This week:

July 22 Reading, Bailey Public Library, 6:30 p.m., Winthrop, ME

Upcoming Shows & Book Events: Summer

August 9 A Visit With Ida, Storytelling by the Sea, 7:15 p.m., Castine, ME

August 14  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 15  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 19  Reading, Southwest Harbor Public Library, 5:30 p.m., Southwest Harbor, ME

September 4  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH

September 5  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH

 

Vacationland

Vacationland: that’s what it says on our Maine license plate, and it’s true. There are plenty of fun things to do here, year round. We encourage folks from away to come and spend time in the great outdoors, enjoy the sights, eat the local delicacies, drink Moxie, buy stuff. We are willing to share our beautiful State with you, but please remember: be nice to us locals! The sign says “Maine: the way life should be”, not “Just like New Jersey, only prettier.” 

We’re only half way through July, and us folks here in Mahoosuc Mills are already dangerously close to reaching our limit in the “being nice to rude people” department. Working at the A & P, I try to just let it roll off my shoulders, you know? I try not take it personal when someone is a little miffed because we don’t carry the exact same brand of butter they’re used to getting at home. ‘Cause, hey, I get it. Spending that much time with your family crammed into a car, tent or rented cabin isn’t quite as much fun as you thought it would be. You’re bored, sleep deprived, mosquito bitten, constipated and still digesting the fried clams and onion rings you had two days ago. I sympathize. Just take the attitude down a notch, and I’ll cut you some slack. 

Babe Delahunt, however, takes a different approach. She runs the Busy Bee Restaurant over on Main Street with her husband Bud. They’re open for breakfast and lunch seven days a week during the summer. Babe’s a master of giving people just what they ask for. I was in there the other day getting a coffee frappe when I witnessed Babe at her best. This fella from away barges in, talking on a cell phone like we all want to know his business. 

“Look,” he says. “I need to see some results in the next sixty days, or we’re pulling out!” 

Me and Babe exchange eye contact and smile.   

“Yeah, yeah,” he continues, “you’re breaking my heart. Later. Later!” 

He doesn’t even wait for Babe to finish up with me. “Can I get a cappuccino?” 

Babe doesn’t miss a beat. Winking, she hands me my change, and I settle in to watch the show. She walks up to the fella and says, sweet as pie, “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have cappuccino. I can get you what we call a Maine Mocha Latte Grande? That’s our special house brew, blended with domestic chocolate and topped with a dollop of faux crème.”

“Whatever.” he says. “That’ll do” 

“Comin’ right up!”

Babe lets the guy cool his jets while she bustles about clearing tables and wiping down the counter, before disappearing into the kitchen. 

 “You on vacation?” I says to him.

“Yeah,” he replies, while texting someone. “Fishing.”

Fishing for what? I’m thinking, as Babe returns with a tray, and on it is a teeny tiny mug about the size of a juice glass. 

“Here you go,” she says. “A genuine Maine Mocha Latte Grande.”

The fella isn’t surprised at all by the size of his drink. He takes a sip, seems to like it, and chugs the rest. 

“How was it?” Babe asks.

“Not bad! And that’s coming from a real coffee aficionado. There’s something about that flavor. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Bold, yet unpretentious.”

“We aim to please! Would you like another?”

“No, I’m good. How much to do I owe you?”

“Well,” Babe said smiling, “because I couldn’t help you with that cappuccino, I’ll give you a special price. That’ll be $8.50.”

The fella doesn’t even bat an eye. He throws a ten on the counter like it’s nothing, just as his cell phone starts ringing. “Speak to me, and make it good news!” and he bolts out of the Busy Bee. Babe and I watch as he wedges himself into some little sports car, fires it up and blasts down Main Street like he’s late for a wedding.

We pause to savor the interaction. Then I turn to Babe and say, “Maine Mocha Latte Grande?” 

“How about that, huh?”

“What’d you put in it?”

“Oh, our regular Maxwell House poured over a Hershey’s Kiss and topped with Cool Whip!” 

“Babe, I got to say, if anything’s bold, yet unpretentious, it’s you.”

“Back atcha, Ida!”

That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!

IDA's PODCAST: Vacationland 

This Week:

July 14 Reading, Freeport Community Library, 7:00 p.m., Freeport, ME

Upcoming Shows & Book Events: Summer

July 22 Reading, Bailey Public Library, 6:30 p.m., Winthrop, ME

August 9 A Visit With Ida, Storytelling by the Sea, 7:15 p.m., Castine, ME

August 14  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 15  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m., Portsmouth, NH

August 19  Reading, Southwest Harbor Public Library, 5:30 p.m., Southwest Harbor, ME

September 4  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 8:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH

September 5  Ida’s Havin’ a Yard Sale, ACT ONE Festival 2014, 2:00 p.m. Portsmouth, NH