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Sunday, December 27, 2009
#7 December 27
Yesterday it was just Cuz and me and the dogs. We slept until 11. It was cold, but went to Lowe’s to buy a new light fixture for my deck and Cuz installed it for me, saving me many $. I wanted a new fiber-optic tree, since the one Taylor gave me a long time ago died, but at Lowe’s there no trace that Christmas ever happened. Eerie.
On the way home we ate fried shrimp for lunch at The Players Club , and when we got here, Cuz put up the fixture and we piddled around. We tried to listen to the entire Beatles collection, but we only made it through Rubber Soul. I still have The White Album, Yellow Submarine, Abbey Road, Let it Be and Magical Mystery Tour to go. Maybe I’ll listen to them today. Maybe I won’t.
We thought about making linguine with white clam sauce for supper and I started the olive oil and white wine reduction but we ended up sitting around, with the occasional trip to the garage for a cigarette. It was too cold on the deck. I worked on my blog and he did some stuff on his laptop. He’s the kind of friend with whom I can enjoy a comfortable silence. The soothing splash of my fountain took the place of the Beatles, and it was peaceful and right. Instinctively, we each in turn got up and stirred the sauce.
We smoked some more expensive tobacco and ended up eating a chocolate covered cherry before supper. Cuz breathed in a chunk of cherry and choked on it and I had to do the Heimlich maneuver on him. No shit. He was in real trouble and I’m not big enough to really get my arms around him but somehow I managed to dislodge it on about the fifth try. I was just before putting him on the floor and starting to breathe for him when it came out. Better aspiration pneumonia than death. I can’t make myself imagine what would have happened to me if another of the Men in My Life died, especially in my kitchen on the day after Christmas.
The sauce and clams went into the refrigerator. Having lost our appetites, we had another drink and made periodic trips to the garage for a cigarette. We stayed up way too late, and Honey, my Lhasa periodically scolded us for being up when she wanted to be in bed.
I slept like a baby.
And now it’s today, and I am alone again but I don’t feel lonely. I wish My Dead Husband were here, but the best I can do is kiss the top of his urn and tell him about my Christmas. He would be happy, I know.