Normally I’m not particularly invested in things, especially in light of having spent the past three months trying to figure out what to do with all of Patrick’s belongings, but this week has brought both the arrival of Patrick’s furniture from California, and today, from my grandmother, two lovely silver trays that belonged to my great-grandmother Charlotte. It’s kind of nice, these family things around me. When I left California, I felt so bad for leaving Patrick that I gave him all the good furniture. And while this is the last way I would have wanted to wind up with…
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Back home in my cozy house after my tour of the Rockies. Ten below outside, so no dog walk this morning, and I’m planning on just hanging out in my sweats catching up on old NY Times, reading and puttering around. Christmas was wonderful, thanks to my friends Hope and Matt — I cried all the way across Wyoming on my way down there, overcome by the reality of Patrick’s death, and by the fact that, for the moment at least, I had no home. I love doing Christmas, and when Patrick and I were roommates we had several festive…
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Well, it’s going to be getting lighter every day from now on, which is a good thing. This has been a very dark winter solstice here at LivingSmall. Everyone warned me that the holidays would be hard, and they were right. I’m off today for Colorado, to spend the holidays with friends. I’ll be back next week.
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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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I got an email from a reader of this blog this morning, taking me to task for being angry and unkind in The Anger Problem. Oh, and for writing beautifully about being angry and unkind. Well duh folks. I’m angry right now. I’m trying to work through it, but anger isn’t kind, anger isn’t pretty, and unfortunately Patrick’s death has, as I warned it probably would, significantly changed the tone of LivingSmall … so if you were one of those people stopping by for another nice dispatch about my happy life in my little Montana town, and what was growing…