| esquire within |

= delicious.

Jamaican jerk chicken kebab + whole wheat couscous with sweet yellow pepper + red cabbage slaw in rice vinegar, olive oil, honey and salt.

Sinuses: Evolution's Little Prank

The paranasal sinuses are joined to the nasal cavity via small orifices called ostia. These become blocked relatively easily by allergic inflammation, or by swelling in the nasal lining which occurs with a cold. If this happens, normal drainage of mucus within the sinuses is disrupted, and sinusitis may occur.

These conditions may be treated by drugs such as pseudoephedrine, which reduce moisture in the sinuses, or by traditional techniques of nasal cleansing.

Nasal cleansing? I don't know about you, but if that doesn't sound like the epitome of pleasant, I don't know what does.

I pretty much feel like death this morning. The Girl had trouble sleeping the last few nights -- which means I had trouble sleeping the last few nights -- and when finally it all caught up to me, WHAM, the mother of all sinus headaches. My skull feels like it's stuck in a vice.

I made the mistake of taking a Sudafed Nighttime last night, which found me awake and somewhat out of my head around 1:00am. We're at the Girl's parents' place, so I had to go downstairs and sleep on the couch while convincing myself that hundreds of little creepy-crawlers were not, in fact, skittering up and down my arms. Thanks for that, Makers of Sudafed.

I probably woke up half-a-dozen times, so it wasn't exactly restful. Today I'm eschewing caffeine, in part because I think I've had too much the last few weeks, and its lingering in my system at night. I have absolutely no factual support for that suspicion, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Anyway, back to acting like a Big Whiny Baby about my little head cold.

Photo[genic][?].

I'm not sure how old I am in this picture, but it must be a year or two before I exploded into a basketball-shaped adolescence (i.e., before sixth grade, when I weighed 135 pounds and could polish off a dozen chocolate chip cookies in 90 seconds flat). I was a cute kid, my Chicklet-teeth notwithstanding. Not sure what happened in the meantime, but whatever. And no, we will not discuss my mismatched socks or what appear to be teal-and-orange shorts. (Seriously, what the hell? Childhood in the 80s is no excuse to dress me like that, Mom.)

Apparently my grandparents emailed this to the Girl yesterday, totally out of the blue. Why they have her email address or sent this at random, I can't really say. Worth sharing, though, if I do say so myself.

In other news, today is my Last Day, which received thoughtful mention at our staff meeting this afternoon. I mean, hey, at least Management a) noticed that I am leaving and b) thought it worth saying I've done a lot of good work for the Department. "I never believed those people who said you weren't employable," the Chief said at the close of his little speech. I laughed along with everybody, though a tiny little irascible part of me sort of maybe thought about punching him in the face. Gently.

Anyway, heading out at precisely 5:01pm for a celebratory send-off. Have I mentioned my Tremendous Mountain of Relief?

Put a Penny in the Slot.

Welp, that's that. Drove to Connecticut this morning with Penny riding shotgun and dropped her off at the breeder's place. I was pretty upset about it, but the breeder said we made the right decision, knowing that we couldn't enjoy her, which helped soften the blow. I suppose a part of me suspected that my reassurances were platitude, but the breeder already had a new home lined up for her, and said that when we were ready -- when things had settled in with work and all that jazz -- she wanted us to come straight back to her, because she knew a good home when she saw one.

I left feeling a bit better about it. Relieved, really. But of course, coming home to an empty apartment and seeing her empty kennel, well, that was pretty sad, plain and simple. Not crushingly so, but I'd by lying if I said this was an easy thing to do.

Oh well. We learned a lot in those two weeks, at least. Almost like a glimpse of what life would be like with a baby, except apparently it's illegal to put your newborn in a kennel and leave her for a few hours while you run to Trader Joe's. Heh.

Yesterday we had a good last walk. Penny's Chick Magnetism was apparent from the get-go, though usually its geriatric bent would inevitably lead to overlong conversations on the sidewalk with very nice but chatty old ladies who would segue masterfully from commenting on the puppy to their afternoon plans with girlfriends (and, sometimes, boyfriends). On our last walk, though, Penny pulled through and caused me to be swarmed by no less than half-a-dozen giggling undergraduate girls, who cornered me by a crosswalk. (Honestly, Honey, I tried to avoid them.) THAT was a trip. And I don't mean that in a particularly positive way.

Anyway, the Girl can at least be relieved on that front, because that sort of thing tends not to happen to me on my own, outdoors, and/or in the absence of alcohol.

So... yeah, no puppy anymore. But at least we can start cooking again. Did I mention I lost four more pounds thanks to her? Amazing how little eating can happen when your attention is directed toward averting stains on your hardwood floors.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

In characteristic fashion, the Sister sent over a set of six pilsners, a housewarming gift after coming up and sharing some reasonably decent Scottish stout in what appears to be inappropriate glassware.  As she put it:

"It is OK to serve beer to me in a punch glass, but you can't go around doing that for real guests."

Fair enough.

In other news, I've managed to front the college educations (community college educations?) of at least four baristas at Starbucks, at least in terms of the sheer volume of espresso I've purchased and pumped into my system these last two weeks. There was a time -- dimly recalled -- that I gave up the bean for the leaf. But green tea just ain't cutting it these days. Hard to feel healthy doing that, though I've somehow managed to lose nine pounds over the last month, the last few of which I attribute to not having the time or energy to eat, let alone cook, with Penny in the apartment.

I have a few lingering cases and research assignments on my desk that I really ought to wrap up. It's hard to focus while waiting for The Call, though, hoping with a suppressed sense of holycrapgetmethehellouttahere that good news will come over the phone from Mid-Sized Law Firm.

Fingers crossed, people. Let's get me a new job before the repo man starts a'knocking on my door.

Collecting rain.

Today is one of those sleepy Saturdays, grey overcast and a light but persistent rain. I could do with something a bit warmer, but then again, it's hard to feel guilty staying inside when the day is so uninviting. This is the time I love to set up shop in the living room with a few campy movies, a good book, maybe a sprinkling of naps. I put jeans on anyway, though. When I spend the day in sweatpants, I feel gluttonously lazy. All afternoon on the couch  wearing denim, though, that's totally kosher. Dressing the part of someone with something to do should count for something.

The Girl is stuck doing homework -- biostatistics for her Masters in Biotechnology, you know, pretty low-brow stuff -- leaving Penny and I to our own devices. Blessedly, routine is important, so puppy is in her crate and I'm taking the next few hours for myself. If she doesn't get that Saturdays mean sleeping in, then she must not get that Saturdays mean we're home and could, in theory, be entertaining her all afternoon.

Meanwhile...

Two more interviews have trickled in, both government positions. One is in D.C. at an amazing agency, but I'm not sure if I should pursue that particular position. I applied several months ago with God only knows what in mind, but I have yet to respond to their invitation to schedule a visit. I probably will, though. At the very least it's an excuse to visit the sister.