Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, long-time supporter of the Seattle Monorail Project, made his decision today on the future of the project. He suggested that it be ended, and that Seattle refuse to grant building permits for it, citing the project's financial troubles. I am not surprised by his decision, and I am saddened by the rightness of it.

The Seattle Times asked its online readers for their opinions. This is what I wrote:

Seattle is in desperate need of a rapid mass transit system. Given its steep hills and crowded landscape, a monorail is this city's best option. However, I agree with Mayor Nickels' decision to withdraw his support for the project. The current Seattle Monorail Project is, sadly, a good idea executed badly.

I'm quoting that from memory, since my input didn't get published - at least, not in the online version of the newspaper. I didn't intend for the last sentence to rhyme. I wish it didn't.

The song stuck in my head today was "Holiday" by Green Day, which just happened to be the song playing on the radio as I rode with Phillip up to QFC this morning. (...Can I get another Amen? (Amen!) / There's a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!) / A gag, a plastic bag on a monument...)

I was remembering something this afternoon Denise taught us last week: Yoga was originally created as simply a tool to release stresses in the body in order to make meditation easier. (I'd never heard that before, but it makes sense.)

A few weeks ago, TNT did a James Bond movie marathon which, of course, started me thinking about the novels. Twelve days ago, I stopped into the library and checked out Doctor No and picked up where I left off in the series. Ian Fleming makes an interesting combination with Gabriel García Márquez. I'm a little past the part in Doctor No where Bond and Quarrel have landed on Crab Key and meet Honeychile Rider - which is very similar to the movie, only racier. The movie is so faithful to that chapter of the book, in fact, that as I read it, I saw the movie in my head. That's the first time that happened in my reading of the Bond series.

Phillip and Pet and I hid The Girls geocache on September 4, and someone still has the chance to be the First To Find - and someone still has the chance to log the first Did Not Find. Amazing. Frustrating. This is not an urban cache, which logs a FTF in a matter of an hour or less.

Here's what I learned in yoga class this evening: It suddenly becomes much more difficult to balance in Vrksasana (Tree Pose) when you close your eyes. I don't yet know why.

I got home from the Church Council meeting a little while ago, and I haven't cared all day. I have definitely reached burnout - not about my religion, but about my church. Is a different church the answer? (That thought just now hit me.) I went through the motions tonight. I barely heard the meeting. Writing the minutes should be interesting.

When I got home, Phillip was upset. I thought that Gladden had died.

Gladden T Hart has been going through some changes in routine since Squeak died. He's moved breakfast from 8:30 p.m. to 8:00. It used to be that playtime was an hour at 11:00 p.m. Now, it's whenever Gladden decides it is. It could be anywhere from 8:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. It's never a full hour anymore. Sometimes, it's two or three playtimes a night, if he can get away with it. Sometimes, he won't come out of the cage all night. He plays with one of us or the other - rarely with both of us together anymore.

What got Phillip upset is something that Gladden has started a few days ago. He's taken up the practice of jumping from very tall heights. Sugar gliders are, of course, born jumpers. Gladden, however, has never enjoyed jumping much - not like Squeak did, and neither of them could jump like Gladys. These days, Gladden is too old and too out of shape to start making four or five foot drops. The odd thing is, they don't seem to be accidental - they don't appear to be falls. The odd thing is, he's always freaked out after those high jumps. It's like he means to do them, but doesn't realize what he's started until it's too late.

Phillip and I are both scared and worried about Gladden.

This has been the weekend for messed-up plans. The plan for today was: Phillip and I would meet Martin and Colin (Phillip's nephew, new to Seattle, who neither Phillip nor I have met), and Kurt and Lori at The Majestic Bay, in Ballard, for the 12:45 showing of The Brothers Grimm. After the film, the plan went, we'd all go to the Chinese buffet for lunch.

Lori had to work. Kurt had seen the film already, so he was going to meet us at the Chinese Buffet.

At 12:45, the film started, and the two seats we'd been saving next to us were still vacant, because neither Martin nor Colin had shown up. Phillip and I both enjoyed the film very much, despite wondering what happened to our party.

After the film, as we were leaving the theater, I turned the cell phone on. There was a voicemail message. There were also two voicemails on our home number. Martin had called to ask if we were still on for the movie, then later had called to say that since they hadn't heard from us, he and Colin were going shopping.

We met Kurt outside of the Chinese buffet. We told him about Martin's voicemails. We were all three pretty ticked off about the situation. Apparently, we agreed, Martin doesn't think that "Meet us at The Majestic Bay Theater for the 12:45 show" is a firm plan. Phillip called him on the cell phone. He talked to Martin (or Colin) for a long time. Then he handed the phone to Kurt, who chewed him out for a while longer. I don't know what was going on at the other end of the call, but for some reason, Martin and Colin wouldn't be able to meet up with us.

After the call, Kurt told us that he wasn't very hungry. Phillip announced that he wasn't hungry either. I was hungry - it was after 3:00, and I hadn't eaten anything except popcorn all day. I agreed, however, that with two of us not hungry, a buffet would be a waste. So, we agreed to go the Chipotle's in the University District.

It was a nice little lunch with Kurt. We saw a very good film. I wish things had gone more according to plan.