Couples in Triplicate

couples-blogJack and I joined two other couples for a weekend in Asheville, to celebrate the end of 2016 (which has been a real mixed bag for all of us) and the wine-and-laughter-soaked start of 2017 with its blank calendar squares of hope.

It is fun to watch three couples interact with others while being their two-unit selves. You have the individual; you have the couple; and you have the team. Sometimes the difference between any of these borders is blurry; at other times they can be uncomfortably non-opaque.

One person forgot essential meds; another dropped a bag that held a bottle of hard-to-get wine, shattering it and soaking some rather delicate Christmas gifts in alcohol – sadly, not an improvement in this case. Spouses tend to be harder on internal errors than anyone else, yet protective of those who make them. It is okay for one of two to say “you idiot,” but not anyone else. Not that anyone else would, you know, because what makes us exhausted inside couples is no big deal outside. It’s all new; it’s all good.

There’s a quote about marriage that says partners are like the blades in scissors, always moving separately and even in different directions, yet always working together and quite capable of punishing anything that comes between them. I think of that quote often watching sets of two:one interact with larger numbers.

Perhaps it’s like reversing those long algebra equations where you’re meant to prioritize the relationships inside the brackets first; fail that, and your mathematical answer will be wrong. But in human interaction, outside the brackets we add up grace, empathy, and laughing first, so that the sum of the parts becomes simple and fun and gestalt. Inside the brackets where the math can be tighter and more complex, maybe you’re tired of talking it over, had it with being the spouse who looks after things. But as you walk down the street in your big group of giggling friends, your spouse reaches for your hand, or tuck yours into the crook of his arm, and the rest dissolves. It’s all right.

Because marriages, like friendship weekends at New Year’s, celebrate not just the hopes to come, but the good and bad past memories that shaped the brackets you live in and made you the happy two:one you are.

The Class Action Pawsuit

15174405_1371938066150587_670575587_n-copyAs regular readers of this blog will know, our eldest cat Owen Meany works as a paralegal at the law firm across the street from the bookstore. He’s held this post for two years now, and I have no idea how many felines he’s assisted in suing their owners for dereliction of duty or contractual negligence.

I just know he’s assisting our foster cats now. On the advice of our vet, Saint Beth of Powell Valley Animal Hospital, we have stopped giving them wet breakfast.

Wet breakfast was one can of Friskies (or whatever else was donated) per five cats, so it wasn’t a big deal…. we thought. Until we stopped.

Yesterday the cats ran to their usual breakfast location, pushing and shoving, and stood, dumbfounded, staring at me as I put away the dishes in which we normally feed them.

“Uh, you’re doing it wrong,” one said, extending a helpful paw. “You need coffee? This is the part where you open the cans.” Another butted a can at me with his head as if to say “Here ya go, lady.”cerulean

In an effort to placate them, a whole can of kitty treats got festooned across the counter like so many ornaments on a Christmas tree. They gobbled these, then looked up.

“And…..?”

I tried to explain, I really did. I laid out the logical reasons: the cats will nose at each others’ dishes, which is bad for infection control if someone has a cold or infection; wet food messes up the, ehm, monitoring of the bowels by which any foster mom measures cat health – yes, it’s true, we examine poo.

They were unimpressed. A few minutes ago I found a delegation surrounding Owen, pushing a piece of paper forward. I’m pretty sure it was the foster agreement we have with Appalachian Feline Friends.

isabellaPoor cats. There’s nothing in there about wet breakfast. But Owen is very crafty. He’ll come up with something along the breach of contract front. Jack and I fully expect to be served with papers this week.

We just hope they’re not from the litter box.