Critical Exponent

Today after I work I went to a meeting at the library. There, a (surprisingly small) group of neighbors got together to meet with our state senator and talk about legislative priorities and issues on our mind. It was a good way to learn about issues in Olympia and across the state, and to provide feedback on our view of things.

Add Turkey Slaughter to your calendar for tomorrow?

So prompted GMail in a recent e-mail thread. The occasion: a demonstration Knox and I were attending at a local farm to see how turkeys get killed.

This all started way back in the summer, when friends of ours on Capitol Hill decided that (why not!) they would raise turkeys for Thanksgiving. Knox and I were game. We bought into the co-op, and sporadically visited the turkeys as they grew. Now, with Thanksgiving around the corner, all the co-op members are getting ready for the kill—except we’ve not really done this before.

Knox, however, managed to find a post on Craigslist for a free-range farmer who allowed folks to purchase his birds and kill them on the spot. We attended one such event as mere spectators. Knox’s agenda was learning how to become our turkey butcher (I’ll be blissfully working at the time). My own purpose for going was to test my ethics in facing the source of my animal food.

And so, there we were, watching tukeys get knocked out, killed, and prepped. I’ll spare you the (slightly) gruesome details. I will note one, though: the magic step is the plucking. Take the feathers off the dead bird and it becomes instantly recognizable as a food item.

Tomorrow, Knox became the turkey-killer-in-chief. As for me, I think there ought to be better ways for animals to die. I’ll be edging a bit closer to vegetarianism once again.

There is a new addition to the Gardnovsky Gardens, and its name is Pops. Knox came back from a mysterious errand in Tacoma on Saturday with a rabbit. A giant, obese rabbit. We later found out (thanks to What Breed is my Bunny?, of course) that it is a fawn-colored Flemish giant.

Apparently, his biography looks something like this: he got his name because the kid he belonged to thought he was the color of Corn Pops. He shared his cage with a cat. The kid lost interest, the cat was given away, the rabbit was lonely. He’s been living outside, unfazed by his barking canine neighbors. The previous owner, a veterinary assistant, decided he was neglected. One Craigslist posting later, Pops came to join Galli at the Gardnovsky Resort and Spa.

Pops is awfully cute, but certainly needs to go in a diet: his jowls are all too conspicuous when he relaxes, all splayed out. We keep him in a rabbit hutch outside, which hutch will be graced with an HGTV-style addition before our own house will. We’ve been bringing him indoors every so often to look at him and pet him, and he seems to enjoy that just fine. He and the cat have been sniffing each other out (and I mean that literally; Galli is intrigued by Pop’s butt). Galli remains suspicious, staring at Pops in her focused huntress mode. Pops is laid back, knowing he has the advantage of size.

So far, our major complaint is that when he comes inside, Pops likes to poop (perfectly formed soft pellets) and pee (brownish syrup). We need to get him housebroken and using a litter box. He’s got a scat kink going, too: he’ll wallow in, sniff, and eat his own pellets, and he seems to quite enjoy stretching out in his own urine. Sigh. As much as I enjoy him, I’ve instituted a new house rule: you bring it home, you take care of its excrement.

Today we hiked Smith Rock. The Rock is a prominent igneous feature in the Oregon high desert plateau, and provides breathtaking views as one hikes first around and then across it. Misery Ridge, they call it—and so it was for a height-anxious Knox….

A mecca for rock climbers everywhere, Smith Rock also provides good eye candy and inspiration to further explore whether I would be passionate about climbing. My one class intrigued me with the required balance of concentration, dexterity, and what-am-I-doing-up-here panic control. This winter, maybe?

Somewhere between a vacation and a staycation lies the webcation. On a webcation, one is not completely disconnected from daily life as in vacations of yore; neither is one staying near home, as in a staycation. A webcation is a web-enabled vacation where one checks personal e-mail and the news thanks to the ever-present Wi-Fi hotspots and cell phone data networks. Webcations often take the form of road or bike trips made possible by Web 2.0 features: researching tourist information on the go from one’s cell phone, looking up traffic and maps on Google, downloading apps and blogging from the car….

Next stop: Crater Lake, OR

Photo: Candice Reimers

They said it would be hard. I’d fall and be sore and leave limping. I’d hate it. “Skiers find it really difficult”.

But the truth is that it only took my first and only snowboarding lesson for me to fall in love with the sport. By the end, I could swiftly and controllably zig-zag the mountain on my heel edge. Toe edge, I haven’t quite mastered, and turning from one to the other—well, that’s a skill in progress.

But the rush of going fast is just awesome!

The neat thing about this is that I’ve had a hard time with balance sports: I did not get downhill skiing when I took my only lesson years ago, and ice skating has been a painful disaster every time I’ve tried it. I blame my childhood: surely if I had been exposed to these sports way back then, I’d have mastered them by now.

This was part of the reason why I took up cross-country skiing. I figured if I could get my snow legs there, I might be able to eventually hold my own in other balance sports. It’s been a pleasant surprise that a year after I learned how to cross-country ski, I can still do it. I am thrilled after plodding to the crest of a hill because the descent is fast and exhilarating, like the reward for a job well done.

And now, a new niche. I can’t wait to get to the slopes and hang out with the ‘boarders. I have found my people.

(Backdated entry)

When we went to Portland for Soup Swap, we took our skis and snowshoes; who knew whether we’d have a chance to hit the slopes? As it turned out, we were largely urban this weekend. And yet…we managed to hit the Portland Nursery and stop by The Columbia Gorge.

As much as I sometimes miss the urban density of Boston and New York— boy howdy, the Northwest lifestyle is pretty amazing!

… for soup.

We’re heading out to Portland for their early Soup Swap… and getting ready to host Seattle’s on January 23, (Inter)National Soup Swap Day.

It’s not too late to organize a Soup Swap of your own, and there’s certainly more than enough time to prepare and freeze your concoction.

Soup’s on!

I took a rock-climbing class last night. It was fun, challenging, and left my arms sore from gripping the rope in desperate fear as I was being lowered back down.

I want to try more!

Sometimes you need to get away from it all: no internet, no phone, no time-pieces.

Knox and I loaded up our newly-acquired car with skis and backpacks on Friday, headed to Teanaway, and skiied to a Forest Service cabin. We expected to be outdoors all the time. In reality, save for a brief ski run and wood-chopping session on Saturday, and the gorgeous ski back on Sunday, we stayed in, reading and sleeping.

The only other humans we saw were a handful of snowmobilers, including a group that confirmed our cabin location when we first entered the forest later on Friday evening than we had planned. We were ensconced in that little cabin, keeping the fire going, melting snow for water, and absorbed in our books. Quite fittingly, I thought, I got through the second half of The Mists of Avalon, and I could swear that if I looked just so out the window I could see the fairy country of Morgaine’s tale…