I should have paid closer attention when I came home last night, but I’d been to a party and I figured the dogs had just been hanging out downstairs on the guest bed, because, well, it’s the guest bed. This morning, however, it was clear something was up. Raymond had been scratching at the door intermittently during the night, which was odd because he’s three, and long past not being able to make it through the night, and when I got up at seven-thirty, he bolted out the door in a way that isn’t typical for him. I was lettting…
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I knew I was in trouble when I caught my connecting flight in Salt Lake last night and didn’t find out until I got on the plane that we might be diverted to Billings. Although cleaning out Patrick’s storage stuff wasn’t nearly as bad as I (or Sally, or Hippie) had feared, it was still exhausting and all I wanted was to get home, pick up my dogs, and spend the evening on the couch watching part 2 of Angels in America. Luckily, the storm lifted enough that we landed in Bozeman, where I found messages on my cellphone from…
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Just a quick entry before I take off for California (to deal with Patrick’s two storage units). The Birthday Party was a wild success — everyone came, they ate almost all of the Ham As Big As Montana, they drank everything, and fun was had by all. Robert-the-Painter made three cakes — a tray of carrot cake cupcakes, a flourless chocolate cake, and a lovely lemon curd and blueberry tart. Jim and Geri and Tim and Linnea gave me a rhinestone tiara, which I may never take off. There was champagne. And then there was Julie, who I have known…
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I turn 40 next week — on Wednesday, the 10th. Patrick and I talked a lot about what to do for my 40th — for a long time I wanted to go to Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo. As some of you know from earlier posts, I have a deep and abiding love of rodeo. The NFR is the rodeo of rodeos, and it’s in Las Vegas, a place so fabulously weird that it seemed appropos for a 40th birthday. But then I moved here, and I have so many nice friends that I didn’t want to trek to…
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Literally, that is. It’s quarter to eight in the morning and we’ve only just attained the grey light of early dawn. Of course, overcast skies don’t help with that, but just as in the summer we wallow in the glorious light and the endless evenings, most of which seem to be spent around barbecues and on back decks, when winter settles in here, it sits down upon us like a broody hen, fluffing it’s feathers down around us, plopping us into darkness for these weeks on either side of the solstice. While Patrick was really affected by the lack of…
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A weekend spent with new friends and old — people who allow me to be in exactly the space I’m in, whether that’s having a good time at a party, or getting the thousand-mile stare at the Bar and Grill because we’re sitting right where I last saw Patrick. People who say “how are you” and don’t mean it as code for “are you over it yet.” People who when I say that I currently feel like a house that’s had all the windows and doors blown out, just nod and hug me and we all keep going. Eating delicious…
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Sitting. Dogs don’t get meditation. Cats, they get meditation, dogs, not so much. This morning I was on my cushion, trying to pay attention when I felt a small dog nose poke me in the back, right between my shoulderblades. So Owen poked at me a little, then went to examine the incense smoke for a moment, then tried to curl up on my crossed legs, but there wasn’t really enough room on the cushion, and he kept sliding off. Eventually, he got bored and went away. Ah, I thought. He’s learning. And tried to bring my attention back to…
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Because we can’t get delivery here in Montana, I get the Sunday New York Times a week late. It usually comes on Thursday or Friday and I save it so I have a Times to read on Sunday morning. This is what two years of one’s youth spent in Manhattan will get you — a lifetime addiction to a big fat Sunday paper. So Sunday I was reading the Style section and there, in the Weddings, was my cousin George on his father’s vintage motorcycle with Jen, who is now his wife. It’s a really cute picture and I tossed…
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Winter is really here — another four inches of snow this morning, temps in the twenties since last week. I wasn’t really quite ready for this, particularly not ready for freezing dog park mornings. Patrick used to do the morning dog walk, and of the many many things I miss, having him take them on the frozen morning walk while I got to hang out in my PJs and make breakfast is one of them. I’m off to LA for the weekend to see an old old friend from college. It’ll be good to take a break. I’m hoping to…
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We got our first snow — just a light dusting of tiny snow-pellets. My wholly unreliable thermometer (that’s what you get when you only spend 3 bucks) reads 20 degrees this morning, and I think this is certainly the end for the late-season cosmos, the asters, although I have a hunch that the unstoppable chard out in the veggie garden will somehow survive even this. I love my little house in winter. It’s so cozy and warm. My only heat source is this freestanding gas heater in the living room. I am very fond of this heater — it goes…