I spent some quality time with this little guy today. He's giving me the stink eye because he knows I'm up to no good. Actually, it's a sleepy stink eye because he was pretty much knocked out at this point. I got to play the dual role of mouse anesthesiologist and surgeon, and, well, I have room for improvement. The good news for me is that I isolated the right femoral artery and the muscular side branch. The bad news for me is that I was unable to induce the wire to produce neointimal hyperplasia secondary to vessel injury. Everything was so small! The good news for him is that he was back running around with his mouse buddies by the end of the afternoon. The bad news for him is that he also has a left leg.

And apropos of nothing (but really, absolutely something), I think the one on the left is Pinky.

Before this past week, Adele was the British singer of the moment, with "Rolling in the Deep" being played on every station, (briefly) on my iPhone, and remixed into a bass/tub-thumping club beat at 3 in the morning (or so I heard). Personally, I found her a tad squeaky, but that's neither here nor there. Then Amy died.

I am not a music geek. I wouldn't even know how to begin to connois any melodic seurs. The little indie cred in my iTunes library came by way of Rhea's philanthropy half a decade ago. Still, even I could tell the broad could sing.

I don't know her story that well, partly things picked up here and there in the gossip rags, but mostly from what she told me. She had a problem with drugs and alcohol. No, that's not quite right. She had a difficult relationship with drugs and alcohol. And love.

Most of her live performances had stretches of looseness and/or disregard for cleanliness that was probably due to a combination of her demons and talents and a innate funk/funk. They make me wince, then not-quite-smile, and want to watch/listen to more. She died a hundred times, then she faded, as always, to black.

I overheard a conversation at church on Sunday. One fellow was talking to another about his job status.

Another: So, are you happy about your new job?

One: Oh, you know, it's just a job.

A: Yeah, I guess so.

O: Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be getting a paycheck. Ha, ha!

Me: You

He had been looking for a job for months, and we'd talked casually here and there during that time about how tough the job market was, and about interviews that just didn't pan out, and finally about this potential opportunity where the first interview went just great and they were going to bring him back for the second interview but they had to push it back a week which hopefully wasn't ominous as long as the first interviewer had said some good things about him and I said I hoped that it would work out. That God would be gracious.

Me: Piece of

I didn't say anything. I pretended not to hear and walked away.

All this to say, I finished Franny and Zooey, the first pleasure read of my research years.

Today was the first day of the next two years, and it was predictably anticlimactic. I got a tour of the lab and went through a number of online orientation modules. I'm sure it'll take some time before I get settled, but I'm in no hurry.