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.

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.

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….

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…

This year, I “celebrated” Christmas for the first time. No, none of the baby Jesus stuff; just a lot of good cheer and a little of the crass materialism.

Knox and I put up a Christmas tree. More of a shrub, really, since we wanted a live tree that we could plant in our garden afterwards. When we went to the store to get lights and ornaments, I felt so, so,… goy. It was alien to me, participating in customs of which I’d only been an observer.

The presents we got, we put under the tree. The lit menorah and the model train set rounded out the Noël tableau. The anticipation built with a handful of holiday parties, dinners with friends, and gift-giving of our own—and of course, the obligatory yuletide soundtrack.

Christmas Day arrived and we rushed downstairs, giddy like children in our bathrobes and hot chocolate. The presents were a delight! We called our family and then partook in that most central ritual of Christmas, dim-sum.

And then it snowed!

The first week of homeownership has been…exhausting. We’ve been moving in and unpacking while trying to continue a semblance of normal life. Every detail is cause for wonder or worry. Do we really not have hot water? No, the thermostat was in vacation mode. Can we actually store our clothes without having proper closets? Yes, there are enough open shelves and rods and, hey, we were going to downsize anyway. Will the cat adjust to the new digs? She’s doing quite well, thank you.

Thanksgiving was spent thus, both of us negotiating how to set up house. So far so good: we’re still talking, and we’re still crazy about the house. In fact, life in Judkins Park is quite good: my bus commute is now entirely urban, and Salima, the Cham restaurant down MLK, is a new favorite. Some neighbors even dropped off homemade applesauce to welcome us to the neighborhood!

I was ecstatic to hear that the anti-marriage amendment was defeated in Massachusetts. Marriage equality will continue there! Way to go!

Now, when do we get it in my new home, Washington? We can’t even travel to MA to get married because the state chose to enforce a 1913 law (intended to put the brakes on interracial marriage) that MA will not perform marriages that are not recognized in one’s state of residence. That means that Knox and I have to get legally married in Canada, where there are no residency requirements. As I understand it, the marriage will then be recognized not only in countries that allow gay marriage (Belgium, Canada, the Netherlands, Spain, and South Africa), but also in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and New York (these last two don’t yet perform gay marriages but recognize out-of-state marriages).

To be sure, today marks a major milestone, but until equality becomes a non-issue and couples like us do not have to deal with this crazy patchwork of laws and second-class status, the fight will continue.

The months of painstaking work and artistic obsession have come to fruition. Knox’s art show, whichever stone you lift–, finally opened. If you’re in Boston, check it out at the Brookline Arts Center.

And if you’re not in Boston, get in touch. We’d love to take this show on the road.