Critical Exponent

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.

This weekend had us making a loooong drive to Spokane and back for a family function. The driving was tedious, but Washington State is georgeous: from the Puget Sound to Snoqualmie Pass to the Columbia River basin and on to (almost) the Idaho border, a sequence of ecosystems following each other in sometimes abrupt succession.

We got to witness first-hand a group of awfully nice, Republican-leaning, small-town folks of all ages (read: people with a socially conservative, non-peripatetic bent) dancing, nay, really getting into, the Village People’s YMCA. Knox and I shared a chuckle as we wondered whether they were aware of the subtext or were simply unconcerned….

Another highlight of the weekend was staying up way too late to watch HGTV. As new homeowners with burgeoning house pride, we were spellbound by one show after another featuring half-hour makeovers in which preternaturally cheerful design types take homes from drab to fab. The secrets to the makeovers, I suspect, are having a whole team of workers at the ready to supervise the work, and having a TV program provide the budget… The secret hook in the network’s programming is that the last segment of one show flows directly into the first segment of the next without a commercial break: once you see how one remodel turned out you are immediately presented with another seemingly hopeless case that you simply must see through resolution.

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?

On our second day in Bend, OR, Knox and I descended from a balmy, sunny 85°F to a cool, still 42°F inside the Lava River Cave. With USFS-provided lanterns and backup headlights we ventured the mile-long trek into the bowels of the earth, feeling cool drafts of air and catching glimpses of variegated igneous rock textures.

Although the hubby was stoically fighting clammy anxiety (what if there’s an earthquake right now when we’re underground? would they find us? look for us?), I decided that I may have a future in caving yet. It was actually quite fun to channel Tom Sawyer to Knox’s Becky Thatcher! I think spelunking might feel too claustrophobic for me (at least the way Knox has described it), but exploring this open cave, at least, was quite the meditative experience.

To see what it would really feel like to be alone, I had Knox take the lantern around a bend in the cave. I turned off my headlamp and just let things be….

It is not in the expanse of space but rather in the depths of the earth that one finds the utmost, thickest blackness! One’s soul floats, solitary, in a medium at once viscous and immaterial, constricting and liberating. The constant dripping of moisture on the rocky floor is the only rhythm perceived beyond the eddies projected by eyes rendered irrelevant….

My hermit nature has found its siren call.

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

I don’t like setting my alarm clock on vacation, but I’m glad I did this morning. We went joy-riding with the blue-hairs up the Rogue River! We saw ospreys and eagles and deer as we traversed grandiose scenery, had lunch, and got wet “braving” the rapids. The splashing was mostly gratuitous showmanship, but nonetheless I tittered with all the grandmas as we banked turns on the water and sped through narrow channels.

We have now crossed the California border. Tomorrow: redwoods!

Day three of our honeymoon finds us at The Inn at Spanish Head. This is the first building in my experience where the street-level lobby is on the ninth floor. Balcony views of the coast and an outdoor swimming pool lured us to pause our drive south for an extra night. The hotel restaurant and lounge offer lackluster food and service (though the chef’s smokehouse salmon is good). But no problem: after a late night swim, we snacked on Croatian fig jam and Camembert cheese baguette sandwiches, ingredients courtesy of our local Whole Foods back in Seattle. The plan for today: beach walks, more swimming, reading, and maybe geeking out.

We’ll put up posts on the wedding as soon as we can write coherently about it and we sort through all the pictures.

In the meantime, read critics’ reviews: Nerd’s Eye View, Wolftone, and Vain.

Let’s just say it was a gorgeous, moving event.

(On a lighter note, For Better or for Worse captures some of the angst of actually planning the event. So glad that’s behind us now!)

Wedding season is upon us. Knox’s parents drove up a few weeks ago. Our first guests arrived on Sunday for their pre-wedding Northwest vacation. Knox’s sister and her family are in town.

The logistics are sufficiently under control. We had a spa day on Sunday and I have a much-needed haircut tomorrow before more out-of-towners arrive. Then it’ll be hiking, fireworks, and vows.

Oh, right, vows. I thought we were forgetting something….