Are you familiar with More, the magazine “for Women of Style and Substance?” (That’s what it says on the cover.) I know that’s just code for “gals forty and above,” but you gotta admit, it’s kind of a snappy way of putting it. More’s a decent enough magazine. Lot’s of useful tips on looking your best at any age, getting rid of belly fat, reinventing yourself, alternatives to sweat pants. You know, the usual.

The announcement this week that Republican U.S. Sen. Olympia Snowe would not seek another term launched an avalanche of metaphors. Or maybe a landslide. Or a storm. A Snowe storm, get it. Those headline writers are so clever.

Now that I got your attention, all I’m gonna say on that subject is, “Yes!”

Sex is important in a relationship, sure, but affection is key. That’s what I miss most if Charlie’s away ski-dooin’, or huntin’, or ice fishin’ up north, like he was this past week. (They had to cross the border into Quebec to find ice thick enough! That’s the kind of winter we’ve had.) Charlie was gone five days, and boy, did I miss him.

I’m not one to panic. I can remain calm when there’s chaos all around me. For instance, in the Old Port on Saturday night. I just sip my beer and occasionally employ my Taser whenever some drunken frat boy gets in my face.

I have never been an all-night sleeper. Ever, even as a kid. I always used to wake up at least once a night. Now that I’m older, though, it’s more like twice, sometimes more.

No big deal. I have my routine. I get up, and eyes half closed, shuffle off to the bathroom, pee, wash my hands and take a sip of water. If my hands are really dry, like they are now, I might put some hand cream on. Did I mention I got Scamp in tow for this whole outing? Every time. He wouldn’t dream of letting me go off on my own!

There’s been some controversy surrounding the straw poll conducted at the Maine Republican Party’s caucuses around the state last week. Several towns used hay instead of straw, thereby negating the results, according to the official interpretation of party rules, based on the 1914 U.S.

What’s with the movies lately? I mean, the last two I saw left me dazed and confused. It started when me and the girls, Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley, go down to Bangor a couple weeks ago to catch “Iron Lady.” We all love Meryl Streep (I mean, who doesn’t?), and were all jacked to see her nail another one.

There’s a sign on Route 27 in Kingfield informing northbound drivers that this particular roadway has been designated a scenic highway by some powerful government authority with excess time on its hands. Good thing, too. Otherwise, motorists would probably never suspect there was pretty scenery to look at, what with no clues except vistas of the Carrabassett River, Bigelow Range, Sugarloaf, Chain of Ponds and the like.

Can’t believe January is over. Wow! It’s usually such a slog. But this year, didn’t it just fly by? I don’t ever remember having so many days in December and January where the temperature got over freezin’! Why, my niece Caitlin’s boyfriend, Adam, is still riding his bike to work! It’s crazy, but I’m not complaining. ‘Course, that can’t be said of everyone.

According to Maine state government’s moose-hunting website, one of the things you have to know before you can get a permit to shoot a moose is this:

“What is a WMD?”