There is a calendar on the wall of one of the back hallways of my clinic. I can't recall, right now, what was on July's picture, but this month it has been a gorgeous drawing of a mother and child, both in kimonos, admiring a giant Buddha statue. It is obviously Japanese in origin. Judging by the black outlines, bold colors, and the stylized yet realistic feel of the picture, I've been assuming that it was a frame from a contemporary Graphic Novel. (The style reminds me, just a little, of the Tintin books.)

This morning, I wrote the name of the artist, Kawase Hasui on a scrap of paper and did an internet search. I was surprised to discover that the artist is neither contemporary nor a graphic novelist. I am in love with this artist's works. I find myself drawn more to the prints of people in daily life than to the landscapes.

The print named "Habu, Oshima" is the backdrop of my computer at the front desk. As my supervisor says, it looks peaceful. It also reminds me of Seattle.

This hot weather has been slowing down our geocaching. I've been feeling a strong urge to get out there and hunt some caches. Suddenly, overnight, six new caches have been approved in our area, including the fourth in dayspring's "Totally Tubular" series. We're currently at 97 cache finds. I want it to cool down so we can both have the energy to make it to that century mark - and beyond.

"We all have our weaknesses and our strengths," Vicky said yesterday evening. I was thinking about that this morning. With only six students, it was easy to see that there were some asanas (like the shoulder stand) my fellow students were achieving with ease while I just couldn't get. And there was one student who just couldn't do the Pigeon Pose - an asana I did easily.

I returned to Hatha Yoga Center, in the U District, for a class this evening. Just like the first time I went there, the regular teacher, Ki, was not there - and, just like the first time, Vicky was the substitute teacher. Vicky remembered me as soon as I walked in, and even remembered that I used to have a pony tail. That impressed me.

There were only six students in class this evening, including me. The doctor from my previous clinic was not there - I was disappointed. Class started out with new age music playing. I liked the music, but found it distracting. I was glad when it was eventually turned off.

Like I remembered the Hatha Yoga Center classes, there was not much emphasis on specific asanas. A couple of times, Vicky told us the name of the asana we were doing - but it was mentioned almost as a trivial detail. (I wonder if that was a matter of it being a beginner class.)

Something that I found refreshing was that props were brought out only when needed, and when we were done with them, they were put away again. In fact, we used our yoga mats for a few asanas in the beginning of class, and then they were put away as well, and for the majority of class, we did yoga on the carpet. (It's the one thing that bothers me about Seattle Yoga Arts classes. That nice wood floor soon gets cluttered with blankets, straps, blocks, outer layers of clothing, and water bottles. Maybe it's just me, but all that material clutter seems to run contrary to the minimal beauty of yoga.)

(Or maybe it's not me. I recently ran across an interesting article in Yoga Journal online, against water bottles in yoga class.)

I pushed myself, and I feel very good. I'm very relaxed and my body is very alive.

I stopped into the U District Safeway - one of the saddest supermarkets in our area - to pick up some needed things after class. I ran into Emily there, and we talked as we waited in line together. We talked mostly about yoga. Emily said she was looking for a good yoga class. (As if she didn't have enough going on in her life already!)

I started today with a visit to my Blogger account, where I searched my posts for the word "vodka." The search found just one post, where I found exactly what I was looking for: the recipe for aftershave. There is now a new batch started in the kitchen.

Maybe I shouldn't be writing this, because my parents read this blog, but my clinic has some rather rough and angry patients at times. Sometimes, it's HIV-induced dementia. Sometimes they have a chip on their shoulder, feeling that their disease, or society, or both, has handed them unfair karma. I'd much rather encounter friendly patients, of course - but I figure the not-so-nice patients are part of what I signed up for. It's my job, at times, to be a complaint form. Still, there are limits to acceptable behavior. Us folks at the front desk are protected, pretty much, by the front desk. It's the social workers and other patients that we get concerned about. My hand has moved awfully close to the telephone keypad in the past. Our manager says it's better to err on the side of safety.

Today, I called Security for the first time. The patient wasn't being violent - just extremely vocal and obscenely unpleasant. (It was dementia, by the way.) So it wasn't a full "out of control" call - just a request for a presence of authority. Before the officer arrived, a social worker had moved the patient to a remote side of the clinic and she (the patient) had calmed down quite a bit, so there wasn't anything for the officer to do.