The new house is coming along. We’ve — or, rather, Fred and his folks have — pulled up most of the carpet on the main floor. Sadly, it looks like the original hardwood underneath is in too rough a shape to just sand and refinish, so we’ll probably be installing a floating floor on top of the existing wood floor and subfloor. Add this to the other “soon” projects (tankless hot water heater FTW) and the to-do list is starting to look a bit daunting.

That said, I did receive power tools for the holiday (so lesbionic, non?), and I’ve already used them. We had purchased new handles and locks for the two screen doors, mostly so that we won’t need a key to operate the locks from the inside, but the new handles didn’t fit in the existing holes. As a result, I got to break out the new drill and new bits and work my way through the doors. It felt mindlessly Republican, like I should be chanting “drill, baby, drill” or something, but I managed to get through the task without starting any poorly-managed wars or demonizing any minorities.

I think the next project is going to be re-re-caulking the bathtub; I can already see a few gaps where water can get through, and the whole roasting-pan-on-the-kitchen-floor-during-showers thing is getting old fast. After that, who knows?

Um, we’re going to be in Washington for the upcoming Presidential inauguration. Seems Fred’s been invited to be a co-captain of the LGBA color guard as that group marches in the Inauguration Parade… Unfortunately, my dry writing style cannot adequately convey the OMGWTFBBQ-ness of it all, but: OMG! WTF! INAUGURATION PARADE!

Last weekend Fred and I met a wonderful dog named Kooper during an adoption event at a local pet store. We haven’t formally adopted him yet, but this weekend we’re fostering him as a sort of trial run.

Kooper is about three and a half years old, and he appears to be a mix of German shepherd, Dalmatian, and either husky or malamute. According to one of his foster mothers, he had been adopted before by a couple, who apparently did some training (he knows “sit” and “stay” and is very well-behaved). When the couple split up, though, they gave Kooper back to Stray Rescue.

Six a.m. walks notwithstanding, Kooper has done an outstanding job adjusting to us and our home. Our major concern, though, is getting the two cats to warm up to the dog. When Kooper first arrived, both cats started for the back of the house; Kooper’s “chase” instinct kicked in and he pursued, which made the cats run faster, which made Kooper run faster, and so on. Since then we’ve set up a gate dividing the front half of the house from the back half, with Kooper’s stuff in front and the cats’ stuff in back. There has been a very tentative détente as a result.

Every now and then we’ll gently restrain Kooper, open the gate, and let the cats approach him on their own terms. As the cats tire of their relative confinement, they’re becoming more and more willing to do it. Kooper is basically fine with the cats; if anything, he’s eager to meet them and play with them, and sometimes this eagerness makes him jump and whimper, thus spooking the cats. Oddly, though, the normally-social cat (Chip) is still extremely skittish of the dog, and the normally-shy cat (Dale), while still skittish, is making cautious progress towards full acceptance.

We’re still a little uncertain about how this will all work out. Kooper’s pretty large compared to the cats, and combined with his excitability that may keep the cats from fully trusting him. Unfortunately, if the cats and Kooper can’t get along, then Kooper will need to find another home, and we’ll have to find a smaller dog to adopt. Having met Kooper, though, we don’t see him having any trouble finding somebody to love him and care for him. (And if we don’t take him, I am willing to bet that my mother-in-law will be the first one in line to adopt him; we took him to their place today and they got along immediately.)

Busy week ahead. Tonight’s a final in theology, my least favorite class in a long time. Tomorrow night I have the option of taking a final in psychology, but I’m skipping it because the prof is dropping our lowest individual test score and because I have 78/80 on every single test so far (which is kind of creepy). Wednesday I have to appear before a judge to see if s/he wants me to serve on a grand jury; we also have a chorus-small-group rehearsal. Thursday morning I have an appointment to get a permanent crown on tooth #12; this will finish the work on that tooth. And this weekend, Fred and I are going to Chicago for a Brotherhood of the Phoenix event.

More later, if I get a chance.

Over the weekend Fred and I finally celebrated our first wedding anniversary by going out for a nice dinner. We arrived at the restaurant and perused the drink menu, with my eye immediately landing on “Cucumber martini” with Hendrick’s listed as the first component. I am a gin boy, and I enjoy Hendrick’s, so I figured the other components would enhance the cucumbery goodness therein.

I should have read more. I got a martini glass full of cold neat Hendrick’s with a ribbon of cucumber in it.

Folks: If you don’t put anything else in it, then it isn’t a martini. It’s just gin. Don’t call it a martini if it isn’t a martini.