Phew, long week - I’m going to be glad tomorrow evening when it’s over and I’m relaxing with a tasty beverage on the back deck.

It’s actually not that long - took Monday (and the preceding Friday) off, and had a 4-day weekend up at the cabin with Fil, Jenny, Mauro, Robyn and Lindsey. Tons of good food (literally), about a case of wine knocked back, and of course the mutt was the centre of attention for the weekend! But we hightailed it back down the hill on Monday after a furious morning of cleaning. Thursday night, our puppy trainer took us aside and mentioned that she thought he had ringworm, and to take him to the vet - since if he did have it, he’d have to be banned from the class until I cleared up. So we got him into the quacks on Monday afternoon, and turns out it’s not ringworm - he’s got demodicosis, otherwise known as red mange. It’s not actually mange - apparently all dogs have these wee thingies called demodex mites living in their hair follicles, which can’t be passed on, but “in predisposed individuals the mites increase in number causing clinical disease.” So the poor little fecker is itchy, and starting to lose small patches of fur where he’s been scratching. The vet put him on some crap called ivermectin, but he had a bad reaction to it, so will have to resort to plan B - Mitiban. Otherwise known as foul-smelling, disgusting assed crap he needs to be bathed in every week for a couple of months. Sigh. Well, whatever we have to do.

Okay. Yes. I know. Haven’t posted in a while. But work’s been mental with the Conference, and to top it off, another little time eater has entered our lives.

So those of you who know us will remember our constant whining and complaining that we wanted a dog. I’ve been dogless since the passing of Shep the Wonderdog back in Ireland, 12 years ago, but given that I’ve only lived in apartments in the USA, always thought that getting a mutt would be unfair. Tracee’s felt the same way, but now that the wedding is done, the move is done, the acclimatising to new jobs is done, and the house is bought, the next logical step would be doggie. Actually, not true - next logical step would be to chill the hell out, relax, and enjoy not having turmoil in our lives for a while - but oh no, not us, we’re feckin’ martyrs.

Which is why yours truly has been scouring Petfinder.com for the past few months, in case a likely candidate showed up. Tracee’s always wanted a labrador, since that’s what she grew up with, but I’m more a mutt man. I mean, why pay some guy $1,000 for a dog who’ll grow up with inbred health issues, when there’s thousands of happy pups in the pound crying out for a home? And find one I did.

His name was Curly, and he seemed ideal. 9 months old, lab mix. We headed up to the Marin Humane Society to visit, and sure enough he was sweet as could be. But, he had some prior convictions on his record - seemed his previous owners had dropped him off due to “destructive behavior.” Which could have meant tearing down a house, or something as innocent as getting busted chewing on a shoe. The volunteer I spoke to about him said he’d shown no destructive behavior that any of them had noticed, so it was likely the latter - but Tracee was gunshy. So we passed on Curly, and he was adopted by someone else a day or two later.

Which is about when we saw Jerry.

Jerry was a 3 month old lab/cocker spaniel mix, who’d been shipped to Marin from Romania. Apparently, a patron of the MHS lives over there, and pays to ship pups over every now and again - who knew? We hopped in the car, and headed up for a visit, to find a group of teenage Mill Valley-ites cooing over him, calling their mother on their bling-encrusted phone, demanding that she come up so they could adopt him. No dice, jailbait - we already had our application on file from when we visited Jerry, so we jumped the line.

He was terrified. Wouldn’t you be? Plucked from the streets, jabbed full of needles, stuffed on a plane, flown halfway around the world, nuts chopped off, stuck full of more needles, then plopped in a kennel full of strange dogs and cats? When we brought him out to the play area, he wouldn’t go near us, and peed in fear if we got too close. No chance - he’s a headcase, but too late, Tracee was in love. Baby talk gushed from her at a rate I thought was impossible - and nothing I said had any effect:

“Um, Trace, you didn’t want to adopt Curly because you thought he had issues - this little fella is the definition of issues.”
“Awww look at his pawsy wawsies! Oooogieboochieboo!”
“Ah. I see.”

We put a hold on him and took the evening to “think about it” but the decision had already been made. I picked him up the following day.

That was 6 weeks ago now (to the day!) and the little furball is the main reason why this blog has been so quiet. If I’m not working, I’m chasing him around, trying to keep him out of trouble. It’s been a TON of work - but he’s come a long way in 6 weeks. His shyness is gone, he’s getting better every day when it comes to meeting other dogs. He was house-trained in a week (although the occasional accident happens, it hasn’t in almost two weeks now) and has learned to sit, sort of come, and kind of fetch. He’s gone from a terrified 13 pound skinny little malnourished whelp to a 23 pound psychopath. He’s enrolled in puppy class, has made a trip to the cabin (hates water, but we’ll work on that), and has Tracee wrapped around his little paw. And yeah, me too a little bit.

Quick note about the name. A few days after we’d gotten him, we were still trying to come up with a name, and I was trying to get him to get in his crate so I could go play footy. He was hopping around in front of it, and when I tried to throw his squeaky ball in there to tempt him, he jumped up and batted it away - and his name immediately came to me. (For the non footy fans reading, click on this and it’ll make sense.)

And now, without further ado, the part you’ve all been waiting for. The pictures….

Okay, okay - I know. It’s been a while since the last post, and I’ve been slacking off. But it’s that time of year. Aside from being swamped with work, we’ve had the pleasure of moving.

But the move is done, and now we’re in our house! Hooray! I’ll get some photos posted for ye all (well, those who are interested) but first and foremost, the most important thing in the new house - my beer fridge!

The move went brilliantly. We used a local moving company called Birch Circle Movers who tore through the job like men possessed. Our furniture was moved in record time, without so much as a scratch. Bravo those lads. But before we brought anything over, we unleashed hell on the floors. The previous owner had carpeted the whole place (even one of the bathrooms!) in white carpet, which just wasn’t going to fly. So we hired Matt Reagon of Fundamental Floors to tear up the carpet and go to work on the gorgeous hardwood. Check it:

After the floors were done, and the moving was sorted, we got to work painting. We enlisted the help of as many folks as we could (amazing how many people were mysteriously out of town that weekend) but our boys Fil Gonzalez and Mike Braswell swung by and kicked arse.

So now we’re here and living, the work still goes on. The deck needs attention, the back and front gardens are wildly overgrown, and there’s always something that needs doing. Which reminds me - I’d better get back to it. Post more soon, honest!
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Now playing: Coldplay - Viva La Vida
via FoxyTunes

Well folks, been a couple weeks since the last update, but things are all systems go at Übermick base camp. We had a quick trip north to Kelowna, Canada for the wedding of Tracee’s best friend, Amanda. Fun, small wedding - they were lucky! But the following Wednesday, we hopped on a plane and headed for Hawai’i, and the first holiday we’ve actually taken together, that didn’t involve visiting folks and going to a wedding. It’s sort of hard condensing what we did for a week into a blog post, especially when I tend to bore folks to tears even when I keep it short.

But to sum up, we stayed at a wee bed and breakfast in Puako, that was fantastic. Our host, Punahele, was flamboyant and faaaahbulous, as well as gracious, welcoming, warm, and kind. If you’re headed to Hawai’i, I couldn’t recommend his house any higher. After a relaxing evening on the beach with some maitais, my wifey sprung from bed the following morning, armed with her trusty guidebook, and began her itinerary and planning. Day one was spent hightailing it around - hiking at Pololu Valley, walking around Laupahoehoe, heading to Akaka Falls, checking out Hilo, and heading south to check out the lava flows at Puna (the Volcanoes National Park was evacuated and closed for three of the days we were there, due to horrendous vog.). And Christ, that was just the first day!

From then on, I managed to convince her to put the guidebook down and @#$# relax, so we headed a mile or so from our B&B to the idyllic Waialea Beach - aka Beach 69. Hands down, the most amazing beach I’ve ever visited. Despite the voggy conditions, we still managed to get burned to a crisp, which (somewhat thankfully) put the brakes on a certain someone’s need to cram as much in as possible. The rest of the trip was spent in far more relaxed conditions, driving around, visiting great restaurants, snorkelling with the turtles, and the highlight of the trip for me, visiting the summit of Mauna Kea - where we got a tour of some of the observatories, watched the sunset over the @#$@ vog, and I got to see the rings of Saturn through a 24″ telescope. Ah hell, just clicky on some piccies…

Beautiful scenery, amazing food (lots of fresh seafood… and loco moco!) but the highlight were the people we met. Everyone we met during our visit was great to us - probably because we weren’t behaving like a lot of the jackass American and Asian tourists we saw - and none more so than Isaiah Ka’aihue. On our last night, while waiting for a table at Duke’s in the Outrigger Waikiki, we strolled into a gift shop, and were blown away by this man. He embodied the Hawai’ian spirit, was passionate about his people, his language, and his culture, and gifted us a great (and eye opening) book on the history of the native race in the Islands, called “And Then There Were None”. He even taught us a few words of Hawai’ian, and invited us back to visit him and his family in Hilo on our next trip out.

And based on the fun we had this time, that trip can’t come soon enough.

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Now playing: Israel Kamakawiwo’ole - Hawai’i ‘78
via FoxyTunes

Benjamin Franklin once said “In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.” Well, here we are on April 15, and as millions of people here in America are clamoring at the Post Office trying to get their returns in on time, instead I’m focused on the other, far more solemn side of life’s certainties.

On April 15, 1989, my beloved Liverpool Football Club were playing Nottingham Forest in the FA Cup semi final at Hillsborough - Sheffield Wednesday’s home ground. Due to police mismanagement, many fans were allowed into the ground without a ticket, resulting in 96 Liverpool fans being crushed to death.

What happened following this tragedy, I’ll leave to Wikipedia to explain:

On the Wednesday following the disaster, Kelvin MacKenzie, then editor of The Sun, a British tabloid newspaper owned by Rupert Murdoch Andrew-Neil-on-Murdoch , used the front page headline ‘THE TRUTH’, with three sub-headlines: ‘Some fans picked pockets of victims’; ‘Some fans urinated on the brave cops’; ‘Some fans beat up PC giving kiss of life’.

The story accompanying these headlines claimed that ‘drunken Liverpool fans viciously attacked rescue workers as they tried to revive victims’ and ‘police officers, firemen and ambulance crew were punched, kicked and urinated upon’. A quote, attributed to an unnamed policeman, claimed that a dead girl had been abused and that Liverpool fans ‘were openly urinating on us and the bodies of the dead’.

MacKenzie explained his reporting in 1993. Talking to a House of Commons National Heritage Select Committee he said “I regret Hillsborough. It was a fundamental mistake. The mistake was I believed what an MP said. It was a Tory MP. If he had not said it and the chief superintendent (David Duckenfield) had not agreed with it, we would not have gone with it.” This explanation was not accepted by families of Hillsborough victims. Even fifteen years after the Hillsborough disaster, the circulation of The Sun in Liverpool is still believed to be only 12,000 copies a day where previously it was around 200,000.

On 30 November 2006, speaking to a business lunch, former Sun editor Kelvin McKenzie repudiated the apology, saying that he only apologised because the newspaper’s owner Rupert Murdoch ordered him to. He said “I was not sorry then and I’m not sorry now” for the paper’s coverage.

On this day, April 15 2008, my heart is with the families of the 96, and I salute everyone involved with the Hillsborough Justice Campaign, and those who continue to boycott that filthy rag.

Phew. Not a lot of posting going on these days - work’s been mad busy with the Conference stuff kicking in big time, and with the impending vacation in Hawaii and move upcoming, I’ve been trying to get as much done as possible, so I don’t spend summer in the weeds. But enough was enough, we were pooped, knackered, and tired, so we took a much needed weekend to cavort and relax.

Friday we headed into town to meet up with Jerett and Anna to catch our first Giants game of the season. The weather was flawless, the sort you don’t often see in the City this time of year - upper 70s, and not a cloud in the sky. I’d been craving steak frites for the past three weeks, and was eagerly anticipating an early trip into town to grab some at the 21st Amendment. Alas, a combination of my wife’s penchant for taking her sweet @#@# time when it’s not something that motivates her, SF public transportation (screwing the chance beforehand), and Jerett’s insistence we stay until the end of the game (screwing the chance afterwards!) shot me down. But, it was a ballgame, and that means…

Garlic Fries!!!

This was the downside of the weekend - my disgust with ballpark prices. Two orders of these, and two beers (slightly warm Gordon Biersch, in a 10oz plastic cup) for… $28!! Jesus H Christ on a bike!!

Oh, and the Giants got hammered…

Saturday tho, after a farewell breakfast with J&A, we hopped in the car to head south to Santa Cruz, to spend the day with Mike. Some time snoozing on the beach, some great beers at Red and 99 Bottles of Beer downtown was just what the doctor ordered, as we just sat back and relaxed. Next morning, after refuelling on some tasty Hawaiian grub at Aloha (Phenominal kalua pig and cabbage!) and another nap, we decided to stroll down the beaches to Capitola. An hour later, with shorts dripping (the tide came in a weeee bit quicker than we expected) we were lounging on the patio at Margaritaville sipping margaritas and munching on chips and salsa (while also laughing heartily at the assembled Coors slurping beach hos and bros).

But, all good things must come to an end. Now it’s Monday, and I’m back working. Speaking of which…

Jesus Christ, my heart! Liverpool stuffed Arsenal in the Champions League quarter final at Anfield, setting up a semi final clash with Chelski. Again. Lord help me I’m in bits. Take it away, John Aldridge…

I defy anyone my age (early/mid 30s) to watch this, and not find themselves grinning in happy nostalgia within a few minutes!

Ahh, the good old days!!

So yesterday, I had an appointment with the good ol’ INS, or USCIS, or whatever they’re called these days, up in Santa Rosa to have my green card renewed. Given that I had to head north, I decided to take the opportunity to explore a little of Northern California, so I went for a drive up to Booneville, home of Anderson Valley Brewing Company.

Unfortunately, ’twas closed, but the helpful ladies at the office sent me on my way after a bathroom break with a sixer of assorted beers, and a media pack full of coasters, stickers, and other goodies. Nice of them!

Next stop was Mendocino Brewing Company in Hopland. Unfortunately I wasn’t paying attention and blew right past it, so ended up at Bear Republic in Healdsburg instead. There I enjoyed a tasty mahi mahi sambo with the first beer of the day - a glass of their phenominally tasty Heritage ale aged in bourbon barrels. Mmm-mmm, good! I was now in a mental position where I could deal with the INS…

…which took all of 15 minutes. So with time to kill, my next stop was Russian River Brewing Company in Santa Rosa. I bellied up to the bar, ordered a sampler platter of brews, and fell in love - this has to be my new favourite spot. Phenominal brew! But as much as I could’ve stayed there all day, I needed to head back in time for trivia…

…after a quick stop at Lagunitas Brewing Company, of course. Thankfully for my liver, they were closed, but the lady at the office asked me to come back another day at 3:00pm and she’d give me a tour of the brewery.

Alright, not a very exciting read for you, but a great day out for me, amidst the soaring Northern California countryside. The drive up and through Anderson Valley was amazing, and I was convinced I could see Mount Shasta way to the north at one point. (Well, snow capped peaks, it was either Lassen at the northern end of the Sierras, or coulda been the ass of the Cascades…) Still though… damn, I love California!

No movement housing wise, in case you’re wanting an update of that. Yer man is still hunkered down, apparently looking, but no word yet on whether he’s found anything. Six weeks from tomorrow we get the keys for sure, but we were sorta hoping for sooner than that… ah well.

We just got the phone call - we have officially closed. We are now the proud owners of a house!

The current owner has a lease agreement in effect until May 10 (although he’s saying he plans on being out before then), and by the time we do the moving/transition dance (refinishing hardwood floors, painting, moving…) we may not be in there for another two months.

To everyone in DC or Europe (or anywhere else!), feel free to come visit this summer - you’ll have a place to stay! For everyone reading in the Bay Area, expect a housewarming party around Memorial Day weekend! (And to get an email/call before that to help us move!)

Damn, this blog is going to get boring without me moaning about househunting!

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Now playing: Madness - Our House
via FoxyTunes