A Tale of Two Kitties, and the Rest of an Amazing Weekend:)

Still no grumpy old cat.  We're at the final ticky box on Ye Olde Kubler Ross Scale. If she shows up, she shows up.  Friday's SPCA visit seemed to be the end of the line as far as efforting (and the kitten I saw there was quickly adopted out to somebody else because of course she was:).   We did get a little glimmer into Sunday morning, when both of us swore we heard plaintive mewing- only it was coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!   Turned out to be Zoey, who thought that playing with a foamy ball  at 1 to 3 a.m. was just a darned excellent idea- especially when Mommy's been having trouble sleeping and Daddy was out late to a concert and birthday observance  (more about that to come).  So for now, we're a family of four- two with two paws and two with four.

Before Saturday night came  Friday night, though, and that's when a tale (or is it a tail?) came back into our lives from a cat that was never really ours.  I hesitate sometimes to repeat this story, lest anyone think it's about how cool and generous we are, but we're not, and it's not about us; it's about the lives we touch.

Nine years ago, we began a tradition under odd circumstances. That year, our anniversary was on a September Saturday night. We had rezzies for Hedges, a lakefront restaurant from our Rochester days, and a hotel room out that way. But that day, we met this guy- a stray who showed up across the street from us.



We fed him, looked around for a possible owner, put up signs, the works. Eventually he went to the SPCA, but by departure time we were too tired for an 80-mile drive to Webster. Only place we could get in near home on a Saturday night was the edge of the village- then a fancyish steakhouse. After finishing our anniversary dinner, Eleanor twinkled (as she'll do) and said, "Yaknow, we just saved a buttload of money on hotel and gas." So it went on the tip line. That server was brought to tears- and we vowed to do it, or something close to it, whenever we could.

A year later, we met Sarabeth, our waitress that night who I remain friends with, and we did the same. Years have passed, not every one with an anniversary out, but whenever we can, we've paid it forward. This year, we decided to do the dinner on Friday night, five days before the occasion. Eleanor picked a place now known as Milos. SHE may have realized it was the same building as the steakhouse where it all began; but I'D forgotten all about Charlie the cat- despite the SPCA reminding me of him earlier today when I went to their new location to report the missing kitty. So we were back at the same place, after a day spent with the same sort-of circumstances.

The server was a fun, attentive young woman who grew up one county over from me on Long Island. At the end of the meal, we told her that the tip was not a mistake- and we explained why. The tears tonight weren't purely of joy but necessity- she just got laid off from her day job, and that extra money is really gonna help. Hugs went all around.  We never did find out what became of Charlie. We do know that the love between us can never stay just between us-  we need  to share it.

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Saturday, we made plans for what we jokingly refer to (from a longlost old New Yorker cartoon) as "ART- AND PLENTY OF IT!" In the afternoon, we returned to a Lockport gallery for a second look at a watercolor collection of mostly new works by a friend of ours  and two others.  We first went for its opening a few weekends ago, but the venue was packed  and  loud, and there wasn't  much chance for  quiet contemplation. This time, we had the place almost to ourselves; officially, they were closed  for a wedding on the grounds, but  even this turned into a fun moment  as I caught one of my spontaneous sightings of an accidental "objay-dart" left in  one of the exhibition rooms:



Two Become One
Metal and plastic on marble
Anonymous


(We told one of the groomsmen on the way out that it had already sold;)

Later, we had plans for the season opener of Buffalo Folk Music's annual series.  Eleanor was too tired for the late night, but I met up with friends there and saw a local opening act and a duo we've loved for years but had never seen- Claudia Schmidt and Sally Rogers.  Joined here by  Sally's husband (Claudia's in the middle)-




-she told a story of them visiting Israel a few years ago and being invited to sing in an ancient cistern. As she described the gorgeous acoustics, I was reminded of the sounds of the silo from a few weekends back- and, this being just one step above a house concert, I got to tell her about the local venue.

One in our party was finishing her birthday observance that night, so we joined her for a pint at a village pub, ending quite the day.

Yet quite not as "quite the day" as yesterday.

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For one thing, the Bills won.  By a lot. After being expected to lose by a lot, on the road against a very good team.  I didn't see a lick of this, though, because we were on our way to, at and from a first-time experience with a new form of outdoor experience:

Ziplining.
 

"What is Zip Lining?" (Watch on YouTube)

This isn't us, nor is it where we were, and we were certainly not between tall buildings. We were never more than an extension ladder's height above the ground- which is good, because that's how we both came down before the course's end. But this video does nicely show the extent of the safety equipment and the "briefing" you must take before hooking up for realz.

There's a lot to learn, much of it repetitive; the harness connections have built-in redundancies that prevent you from  disconnecting from your harness, and you then lock and unlock the extra connectors using a device called a "tweezil." (And yes, apparently it is named  for  Dweezil Zappa,  Son of Frank.)  There's also a trolley,  which takes you, not to the Land of Make Believe but to the next platform on the course.

In our case, it was the only one we crossed. After by-foot climbing a series of short uphill connectors (which reminded Eleanor of an obstacle course and me of the Monty Python Bridge of Death), we were on the platform leading to the first zipline.  Eleanor connected, rode across, and stopped perhaps three feet short- now facing away from the platform.  Staff was called.  A lovely and unjudgmental young woman helped her reverse, move onto it, and then down.  I was ready to reverse course, but they talked me through the plunge, and I made it, slowly but straightly, onto the platform- which I quickly Exited, Stage Ladder. This is called "quitting while you're ahead." 

All in all, it was one of the three hours we'd booked. Fortunately, we were the  only n00bs on the "bunny zip" (the whippersnappers all choosing the "black  widow" and similar thrillseeker options), so there was nobody behind us to complain  about how slow we were.  As Eleanor  put it, "We didn’t do real well, but we did well, for our ages and physical conditions." It  was enough of a thrill to want to try it again, now that we've literally learned the ropes  and that the tweeziling has become almost second nature.

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And now, another manic Monday nears its end.  This day has brought an above-average share of annoyances to and from and at and away from the job- but these past few days have had so much hangover-ing goodness that they havent annoyed me nearly as much as they ordinarily would. I'm staying later at work than I need to this afternoon, because there's a court reception for a retiring law clerk at the end  of the day.  And  this one I'm just driving to. On the ground.