My dear friends Bill and Maryanne lost their beloved (and enormous) golden retriever Moja this weekend. Moja was a very special dog — one hundred and twenty five pounds of big yellow love — and he died quite suddenly of a twisted gut. It was beyond awful. There were big gulping sobs and tears all around. All I could think to do was drive home from the vet’s office and pull the emergency stash of pot roast out of the freezer. I made it ages ago, and there was too much for just the two of us, so I froze…
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It’s an odd week here at LivingSmall — September 11 rolls around once again and I can’t help but remember calling Patrick, who was in the truck on his way to work. He hadn’t wanted to wake me up before he left, just after the first plane hit. We were on the phone together when the first tower fell. Seeing all the footage makes me miss him. He was the person I knew I could call any time, and we all need that person in our lives, the one we know we can pick up the phone when something happens.…
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The garden is finally starting to come in this summer. I’m on vacation for 2 weeks, and I spent a lovely morning the other day puttering in the vegetable garden. I pulled out all the peas, which did really well this year, but which were starting to get woody. The tomatoes are starting to pop after a couple of days of hot weather — it really takes until August to get a tomato around here, but once they get past that 6-inch stage it feels like summer’s really begun. I have a lot of greens, and more onions than I…
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I had a long talk on the phone last night with my cousin Jennifer. Jennifer’s four years younger than I am, and her mother was my mother’s older sister. Every time there was a crisis in our childhoods, and there were plenty, we were shipped off to our Aunt Lynn’s house, so in a lot of ways Jennifer and I were raised almost more like siblings than like cousins. I have a very clear memory of Patrick and I, having been dropped off one snowy night by someone who had agreed to drive us from where? Our Dad’s house? Our…
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Yesterday was the second anniversary of that sad event Maryanne has named, “Patrick’s Very Bad Day”. Last year I was in Paris for this day, wandering around in a tres melodramatic haze, thinking to myself “Mais, il est mort. Mon frere. Il est mort.” Paris is, in general a good place to go when you are feeling sad, melancholy or blue, because the city lends itself to soulful lingering at cafes, gazing into the middle distance while every once in a while using that little tiny spoon to stir the sugar you have, so sacreligiously, put into your cafe. Luckily,…
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This morning my friend Nina called and asked, with that sort of tense tone in her voice, what I was doing. Why? I said. Do you need a rescue? Turns out, she was in the car with the twins, who had a pediatrician’s appointment, and her husband (who is writing for TV trying to support them all) had a sudden deadline at eleven. She needed an extra set of arms. Well count me in. There’s no cure for a case of low-level January depression like a two month old baby that needs a snuggle. I did have to check my…
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Blogging has been slow here at LivingSmall because I just haven’t felt like I had anything interesting to say. It’s been a weird month — I’ve been a tiny bit depressed — I have to say, I sort of thought this grief thing would get easier at some point — like after I made it through the first anniversary, or got through the holidays — but it still just sucks. And trying to write this book isn’t helping — I mean, last January was SO horrible what with the crying on the couch with the dog in my lap, and…
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Well, last night all the air went out of my good intentions, out of my determination not to let them get to me, out of my belief that we will, in the long run prevail in our intentions to build a progressive society. Last night I was tired and jittery over our political situation, over my new job at Cisco that I don’t know how to do, over my fears that this administration will wreck terrible havoc in the name of “faith”. But I was having dinner with a friend, and it was good, and we ran into some people…
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A couple of months ago, I ordered two Tess of the D’Urbervilles bare root rosebushes from White Flower Farm. They kindly sent me a note that they couldn’t guarantee them as my zone is too cold, but between global warming, and planting them on the south side of my house, in the tropical perennial bed, well, I think they’ll be fine. They look lovely in the photos, bushy dark-pink roses which should bloom continually and will make a nice contrast to the ancient and wonderful white rugosa roses that were here when I moved in. I’ve also planted a couple…
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It’s been kind of a rough week around here — six months last week since Patrick died. I thought I was past the worst of the weeping, but it’s been a little soggy here these past few days, and I’ve had a slight relapse on the daytime-tv-on-the-couch-with-dogs front. So tonight, a roasted chicken (I get more hits for the blog entry titled “Roasting a Chicken” than I do for anything else), some kale, and basmati rice. A glass of red wine, and a decent dinner and one of my many Netflix movies … it’s okay. I’m getting through this and…