We started our day with a trip to the University District Farmers' Market. Basil and nectarines were plentiful. We got some of both, plus some goat milk yogurt from Bainbridge Island, some lemon cucumbers, and some tomatoes.

From the market, we drove north to Greenwood, where I deposited a paycheck. We also picked up a jar of yeast for tomorrow's communion bread.

From Greenwood, we drove back to the University District, to Barnes & Noble. I spent my gift certificate on music, not books. I found three CDs from Mickey Hart's seven CDs to start your world music collection. (See August 15.) I had to choose between Music of Upper and Lower Egypt, Sarangi: Music of India, by Ustad Sultan Khan, and Honor The Earth Powwow (Songs of the Great Lakes Indians). (I was hoping to find Freedom Chants From The Roof Of The World, by The Gyuto Monks, but didn't.) I chose Egypt - it's a wonderful CD.

We came home and watched Kill Bill, vol. 2 on DVD. I rented it on my way home yesterday, and watched it last night. So, this afternoon, it was Phillip's first viewing and my second. Volume 2 is a lot different than Volume 1 - more character development in the second volume with a slower pace - and I refuse to pick one over the other. They work as a set. I think this is a great film - both halves of it. It's also a fun film to read about and discover all the film references planted throughout.

Lousy start. Good day. Lousy end.

Walking into work this morning, I watched helplessly as a squirrel almost got hit by a car. Lucky squirrel found something tasty to lick on the asphalt in the middle of the lane on Jefferson Street. Squirrel was so absorbed in its breakfast that it didn't notice the SUV zooming right toward it. Squirrel looked up and saw the danger just in time. It dodged out of the way of the tire that missed it by inches, literally. I walked toward squirrel as I opened my raincoat pocket, preparing to retrieve a peanut. I was too slow. Squirrel returned to its breakfast, not noticing the bus moving toward it. Squirrel dodged that threat, too. I couldn't watch any more.

I stayed late for a meeting after work, and when I got home, I turned on the computer and was told that Norton AntiVirus couldn't start because one of its .dll files was corrupted. From 7:30 until after 10, I uninstalled Norton, reinstalled it, updated it, and still can't figure out how to activate it. I ran into this problem with the last install, but I can't remember how I fixed it. I have 15 days to decipher the help files before Norton shuts down because of a lack of activation. I don't know what people with less computer savvy than me do.

Yesterday, I discovered that one of the doctors in our clinic is a long-time practitioner of yoga. We talked quite a bit about yoga, and continued our talk today. I have decided to sign up for the next seven-week, Friday evening session. I was thinking it begins toward the end of September - the first class starts on the 10th. I'll drop my application in the mail tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile, I am surprised that Harborview, being a county hospital, has such a strong Department of Spiritual Care. I discovered it because it's next door to our office. Among other things, the Spiritual Department conducts Buddhist meditations - open to all - on the first and third Fridays of each month. I wanted to sit in on last Friday's session, but I couldn't. I do want to experience it.

I took an entirely new route home from work today - one that served its purpose, but would be impractical for my daily commute. I caught the 4 bus that arrived just as I stepped out of the hospital, rode it down James Street to 3rd Avenue, then walked down to 1st and over to The Elliott Bay Book Company, where I picked up the copy of How To Play Djembe (by Alan Dworsky and Betty Sansby) which I'd finally gotten around to ordering last Thursday. Then, book in hand, I walked up to 3rd, caught a 14 bus after practically no wait, and rode through Downtown and home. I walked through our front door twenty minutes later than usual.

There was a brief period of time, after I finished Diamonds Are Forever, that I considered not putting From Russia With Love (the next book in the series) on hold at the library. My thinking was that my curiosity about the series had run its course, and that it was time to turn to other books that weren't such a "guilty pleasure." But, darn it, I'm enjoying these books. I put From Russia With Love on hold, and picked it up on my walk home from work today.

It really was reassuring to find that Don - a person whose opinion I value and almost always agree with - is a fellow fan. Don told me (as did the reviews I've read online) that From Russia With Love is the best in the series. Many movie reviewers - and I agree - hold the opinion that From Russia With Love is also the best of the Bond movies.

Today was the annual Writers' Group picnic. Just like last year, it rained after weeks of sunshine. Last year, we had the picnic in the Parish Hall. This year, we held it in Barbara and Don's house.

I read a very short, very gloomy piece about fear.

Our group has dwindled to just five members. Nancy seems to be only an occasional member. Jeffery dropped out a while ago, and Russ dropped out (moved to another church, actually) over a year ago. It's now me, Bernice, Blanche, Barbara, and Don.

I discovered today that Don is as much a fan of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels as I am. In retrospect, that doesn't surprise me.

Bernice started an interesting session of mutual analysis today:

Don: Good at fact and details, told with wit and humor (a "British humor," Bernice called it)

Bernice: Good at getting to the heart of political issues

Blanche: A good essayist, especially on Theological topics

Me: Good at writing about emotions

Barbara: A good story-teller

Nancy: A good poet

This morning, I dreamed I was in a meeting at work. No one in the meeting looked like people I work with in the waking world. The conference room looked like no conference room I know in the waking world. When the dream began, the meeting had just concluded. I looked across the room, through the field of exiting co-workers, and saw Kelly chatting with my boss. (My dream world boss looked nothing like my waking world boss - in fact, my dream world boss was a man.) I was very excited that Kelly was in town, and confused as to why she was at my place of work. As soon as the room cleared out, I walked over to Kelly. She was oddly unemotional and reserved. I told her how excited I was to see her, but she didn't say anything in response. I wanted to hug her, but it didn't seem like the appropriate thing to do. I learned that she'd been in town for weeks. Either she hadn't told me, or she'd told a mutual friend who hadn't told me - there was some confusion about that. Kelly and I walked out into the hallway, where there was a Peters Projection world map that covered the wall from floor to ceiling. Kelly's head barely reached the southern tip of Chile. She was very small. End of dream.

I had another dream this morning. (It's rare for me to remember one dream, even rarer for me to remember two.) It was in a huge industrial storeroom, with metal walls and floor. As I was sliding the doors - like airplane hanger doors - closed, I looked down and saw Squeak running around loose. I panicked at first, because I didn't know she was loose, and she could have run out of the open doors. Then I saw that she had no interest in escaping, and I relaxed. Squeak found a spider web in a the runners by the door and tried to investigate. She somehow plunged her head into the web. She ran off to another part of the room where she tried to shake off the bits of web stuck to her. Then she started gagging. It wasn't a tragic type of gagging, though - she was trying to clear the spider web out of her mouth. I thought it was entertaining, in the dream. End of dream.

That second dream is actually a replay of a waking world incident. Phillip had to leave the bedroom during playtime, several nights ago, and it was safe to do so because both Squeak and Gladden were inside the chest of drawers. While Phillip was gone, I looked down and saw that Squeak was climbing around by the door - she had not been in the drawers when Phillip left. We were lucky she didn't try to run out into the apartment.

Why do these dream report posts always turn out to be so long?