Yes, there’s been more going on other than Liverpool wins, and here’s the quick update.

We’re in house mode – or at least, I am. After getting the recessed lighting installed in the living room and office, I’m all about getting more crap done while I’ve got the motivation. Against all odds, we actually found a piece of art we both liked, so now our living room wall isn’t completely barren. Plus, with our meager tax return, we toddled off and bought a new sectional couch. Nice and comfy, and finally Tracee’s disgusting brown monstrosity has been condemned to the basement – where one day, she’s going to come home and find that it accidentally fell into the back of a truck, which just happened to be on the way to the dump.

The big kerfuffle is the garden(s). So we recruited friends of ours to do the design and planting for us. Back in October. And it still hasn’t been done. Not only that, they’re not responding to phone calls and emails. And the $3,000 we spent on removing all the ivy and poison oak is for nothing now, since while we were waiting for them to get started, weeds have infested our blank canvas. So this weekend, we finally resolved to take matters into our own hands, since it’s obvious they’re not going to come through for us. We got a quote from the guy who did our clearing – $1,600 for the front. While I’d love him to do it (purely because I can’t stand garden work), the cash isn’t there, with the humongous Marin County property tax bill we’ve got, so we’re going to tackle it ourselves, and save some money. THAT ought to be interesting…

In other, much cooler news, Mr. Frigo popped out for a visit the weekend before last! Hooray! It was good seeing him, made us miss our old crew from DC, and a fun time was had by all. Did the wine tasting thing (spent more money…), ate one of his phenomenal calabreses (and got the recipe!), and headed out to West Marin for some beach time. Behold gratuitous photos…

Finally, the dental work continues. Finally went in for that periodontal surgery last Thursday, and feck me if that wasn’t awful. The root canal was a walk in the park compared to this. For those that don’t know what crown lengthening is, it’s “giving your gums a haircut”, in the words of my dentist. In reality, it’s having excess gum tissue and bone hacked off, and it feckin’ gargled my balls. Nothing like lying there in the chair, and suddenly tasting/smelling barbecue – before realizing it’s yourself you’re tasting and smelling. The procedure itself wasn’t bad – the joys of novocaine – but once that wore off, it’s been nonstop pain and discomfort. I managed to pop the stitches in my mouth pretty much immediately, and nothing like waking up in the mornings with little pools of blood all over the pillow. It’s getting better day by day, but Christ if I’m not really really ready for this to be over and done with…

Okay, okay, I’ll update this feckin’ thing!

Not too much going on of late though. Homeownership is still a learning curve for us, and a money pit to boot. Seems every week there’s something that comes up that needs attention – and, by default, money. But hey, the house is coming along.

Dudek continues to make our lives interesting. He’s decided that he needs to bark and growl at every minute sound outside, which is always fun when you’re trying to relax after a long day. He’s loving doggie daycare though, where he gets dumped twice a week so I can get some work done.

Tracee’s Honda is no more – we traded it in just before Christmas for one of these:

We’ve needed something with 4WD for a while, and when I was driving home and saw a Honda just like hers, broken down on 101 blocking traffic, I took it as a sign, and we traded it in while the going was good. It’s a groovy wee car, and had a baptism of fire within a couple of days when we went up to the cabin for Christmas. Arnold got completely dumped on, the roads were a mess, but the new Subie handled ‘em like a champ. I think the only person who enjoyed the epic powder more than JB was Dudek…

I think that’s about all the shennanigans that’s gone on, other than an enjoyable root canal for me the other day – and the giddy enjoyment of finally getting rid of Dubya next week!

So the past few weeks have seen me busy with young pup (who has today discovered how to get on the bed) and work. NASFAA’s quiet-ish since the Conference, but I do have a couple of freelance gigs on the back burner as well. But there’s always a little bit of free time, and with a house, that free time manifested itself into… Power tools.

John, our fab realtor, presented us with a nice Home Depot gift certificate for our housewarming present – with the emphasis on “I know Tracee got all the china, vases, candlesticks, pictureframes, and crap she wanted for your wedding, so a year on, go get yourself something nice.” (If you’ve been wondering what to get us for a wedding gift, take heed! And… WTF is wrong with you, the wedding was a year and a half ago!!)

Nice.

So armed with a new mitre saw, circular saw, and orbital sander, I immediately put them to work to create… the Workbench!!

See it and despair!! View it’s woody goodness! Hand crafted by yours truly from 2×4s and a sheet of 1″ ply, it sits there with it’s golden oak stain and five (count ‘em, FIVE!) coats of Diamond polyurethane! And next to it is my beer fridge. (Note the strategically placed bottle opener…) And yeah, when I was done, I built a pegboard, and a bike rack, and even a little helmet and Camelbak holder… that’s how I roll.

This is the garage. This is my house.

I am man!! Wuaaaaaaaaaaaah!
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Now playing: Dan Le Sac VS Scroobius Pip – Thou Shalt Always Kill
via FoxyTunes

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….