Lew and I won't be able to meet up today - the timing just won't work. Maybe we can meet the next time he's in Seattle or I'm in the Portland/Vancouver area.

It's a different work environment here. I had to call Security to remove a family camping out in our waiting room. I mean literally camping out - sleeping bags spread out on the floor and bags of breakfast on the chairs. That's OK, actually, as long as the clinic is closed. But when we ask them to leave and they refuse, that's when Security has to step in.

I wait at the same bus stop at Broadway & Republican, but it's earlier in the morning and there's a different crowd of people than yesterday. Unlike yesterday, too, everyone is waiting for the same bus as me. The 60 appears suddenly on Republican, in the gap between All Pilgrims Christian Church and Starbucks. The bus is empty, because this is the very beginning of a long and scenic route southward. I will be seeing only a small section of the 60 route.

Along Broadway, the stops are the same as the 9: Thomas, Denny, SCCC, Pine, and Union. It's a noisier bus than the 9, because it's a diesel.

When we get to Madison Street, the bus turns west, toward downtown.

The first stop on Madison Street is Summit Avenue, in front of Rite Aid and Arosa Cafe. Across the street on Madison is Swedish Medical Center and Swedish Cancer Institute.

The next stop is Boren Avenue, in front of a nail salon and a convenience store. The bus driver calls out "Virginia Mason." That hospital is a block away. This is our last stop on Madison Street.

The 60 turns left onto 9th Avenue and into a section of town I don't have much experience with. The first stop is Marion Street, in front of an apartment building and across the street from St. James Cathedral.

The next stop is either Cherry or Columbia. I'm not sure. There's an old house there, with a room for rent. Across the street is a clinic associated with Harborview Medical Center.

The next stop is Jefferson Street. The bus driver calls out "Harborview Hospital." Most of my fellow employees exit here, walk across the street, past the Emergency Department, and into the 9th Avenue entrance of Harborview (which was originally the front door of the hospital, but is now the back door). There are a surprising number of bus routes crossing this tiny intersection. I prefer the next stop.

My stop is Alder Street. It's the southeast corner of the hospital building, and the edge of the Yesler Terrace housing complex. I like this stop because it's less crowded, with less traffic. Besides, I've got 40 minutes or so until it's time for work. I have time for a walk through the building.

I walk four blocks up the hill, through the Broadway neighborhood, past the library, past QFC and Broadway Video. I wait for the bus at the corner of Broadway and Republican, in front of where Uzuri once was. A 7 comes by, and I know it's time to close my book and get my bus pass ready, because there's a 9 a few minutes behind it.

The next stop is Thomas Street, in front of World Beads and Jai Thai.

Next comes the stop at Denny, in front of Kinko's and Annapurna, close to the Post Office.

The next stop is Seattle Central Community College. A lot of riders exit the bus there.

The next stop is Pine Street. There's a vacant lot there that used to be a Chevron station with what must have been the most expensive gasoline on Capitol Hill.

Next, the bus stops at Union Street, in front of The Polyclinic. It may be here that Capitol Hill ends and First Hill - sometimes known as "Pill Hill" because of the number of hospitals located there - begins.

Next is Madison Street, in front of some Swedish Medical Center clinics, and across Broadway from Seattle University.

The next stop is at Swedish Medical Center - their main hospital.

Then it's my stop: Jefferson Street, in front of a new building of unknown name and purpose. I walk three blocks, past Minor & James Medical Clinic, through the Yesler Terrace neighborhood, past frequent news vans, and into work.

Sometimes I miss the early morning walks across campus, but I have a very good commute.

As if to continue yesterday's "reunion" theme, I got an email from Lew late last night. He's going to be in Seattle this Friday and wants to meet for coffee. Unfortunately, I'll be on my way to Lopez right after work, but I told him that perhaps he could meet me at Harborview.

I've been regretting not hopping off the bus the other day so I could talk to Jonathan. I find myself looking for him through the bus window, or hoping to meet him in passing when I walk home (which I did today). I didn't know him for long, but he made a good impression on me.

On my walk home today, I found my ex-wife waiting for a bus on Olive Way. She saw me first, and called out to me. I stopped and talked with her until her 43 arrived. She seemed to be a lot more comfortable with the conversation than I felt. That surprised me. Until today, the awkwardness seemed to be distributed equally.

In my email today, I was surprised by an email from my old friend Waldi. (She was the reason for those drives to Oceanside.) We had somehow lost touch with each other. She didn't have much to say, because it had been so long that she wasn't sure if my email address was still the same.

Without planning for it, this post has developed a theme.

The Church Council retreat is this weekend, on Lynn and Adam's Lopez Island property.

When the retreat was first announced (February? March?), I volunteered myself and The Green Machine to drive up to three people to the Anacortes ferry and onto Lopez Island.

Then, about a month ago, Bob and John, the logistics organizers, announced the designated drivers for the retreat. I was assigned to be a rider, not a driver. I didn't mind. It was just one less opportunity to show off the Prius. It was up to the riders to choose their drivers.

Then came the new job and the discovery that my lead would be on vacation this Friday. I didn't bother asking for the day off. The earliest ferry I'd be able to catch would be Friday night, and since all of the designated drivers would be leaving Friday morning or afternoon, it meant I'd be driving up to Anacortes alone. I was disappointed.

It's not that I mind driving alone. I had, after all, driven solo from Seattle, Washington to Oceanside, California and back - twice - and enjoyed it. It just seemed wasteful for me to drive alone. Mostly, though, it made me feel like an outsider. Everyone would be carpooling over the ferry, and then there was me, arriving at night.

Then, last Saturday evening, I got a call from Betty. She wouldn't be able to get Friday off, either, and would be catching the Friday night ferry. Could she ride with me? I gladly agreed to pick her up on my way north.

Then, Sunday morning, Bob talked with me. Cheri would be catching the Friday night ferry, too, and, if it was alright with me, she'd meet me at Betty's house and ride up with Betty and me.

Bob called me Sunday evening. Cheri had confirmed that she'll be at Betty's house. Also, there's a 50% chance that Natalie will be needing a ride, too.

I'm looking forward to this weekend.

"My mouth shall speak wisdom, and the meditation of my heart shall bring understanding." - Psalms 49:3

(I like that.)

I've realized that my favorite church hymns are the ones of African-American origin. That could be a result of something in my upbringing.

Before church this morning, I had an interesting email exchange with Pet. She was considering buying a juicer, until I inadvertently talked her out of it. I like my juicer a lot, but it's really more of a toy than a tool. If I grew my own crops, and had plenty of fruits and vegetables on hand, juicing them would make more sense. But for a city boy, who buys his vegetables and fruits at grocery stores and farmers' markets, making my own juice tends to be an overly expensive and labor intensive activity (especially when you factor in cleaning the juicer after every glassful). Also, in Seattle, there are plenty of fresh and varied juices available from many stores. Those store-bought juices lack the pleasure that comes from producing something myself, but they don't lack much else (not like the hot, fresh bread out of the breadmaker that tastes so much better than packaged bread). Plus, there's the idea that my juicer doesn't make much sense unless I'm mixing juices. If I'm making pure apple juice, for instance, why not just eat an apple?

I rented The Station Agent this weekend. I enjoy "character study" films, and this one is one of the best. I loved that it had such an uplifting message - a moral - without being preachy or sappy.