We started today with a trip to Christie Park to do some trash cleanup - and to check up on our geocache. There had been some cutting back on the bushes, which had uncovered the cache hiding spot. The cache itself has either been misplaced or taken. There were muggles in the park, so it was difficult to put much effort into search, but we're both feeling that the cache has gone missing. Phillip seemed to take the discovery rather well.

Next, we sought, and found, two geocaches. The first was a mildly clever idea, and a not very inspired hide, but it had been caching my eye for as long as we've been geocaching, so I was glad to finally log it. The second was a much more elegant hide, in an obscure corner of Gasworks Park. Thanks to very detailed instructions in the cache description, the second cache was an easy find.

Next, it was on to Craig's house. We took him out for a birthday lunch at Zeek's Pizza again. We talked about LEDs, and the president, and sugar gliders. I had a great time.

After dropping Craig back home, we drove over to Greenwood, where we'd remembered seeing gasoline for $2.79 - at least ten cents a gallon cheaper than other places around here. It was Phillip's suggestion that we fill up the car now, before gas prices jump up again. I think this was the first time I've ever put that much thought into the price of gasoline. Phillip commented that he hopes that gas doesn't drop back down below $2 a gallon anytime soon - and I agreed.

After Greenwood, we returned to Capitol Hill and had a couple of beers at Six Arms McMenamin - to help out the goal of a travel bug we'd picked up in West Seattle with Colin. We visited a cache on Lake Union - one I'd found previously without Phillip - and dropped the travel bug off.

Then we went home and goofed off for the rest of the afternoon.

In one of the very first posts of this blog, I wrote that I wished that the Smart was sold here in Seattle.

A few weeks ago, as I was driving up Broadway, I spotted a Smart parked on the street. If I had a place to pull over, park, and look at it closer, I would have. It was the first time I had ever seen an actual Smart.

Today, in our clinic's staff lunchroom, a place I rarely go, I spotted an ad on the bulletin board for a company in Kirkland that is selling the Smart. While I have no plans to trade in the Prius, and I can't afford a second car, I saw that as happy news. I'm glad that someone in this freeway-loving area is thinking in the right direction. (But, as Phillip asked, what's up with the one year warranty?)

There was sadder news. I had lunch with two social workers today and happened to learn that today was Craig's last day. (Craig the meditation leader, that is.) I'd only started to get to know him. I hope the Department of Spiritual Care plans to continue the twice a month meditation sessions.

I was glad to learn today that I'm not the only one baffled by this very common act of human behavior: A person walks up to our front desk and asks, "What floor is [some clinic other than ours] on?"

To understand why we're baffled, you have to know a few things: Our clinic takes up an entire floor. We're not located on either of the main floors. We're not located on either the top or the bottom floor. The only way for a patient or visitor to get to our floor is by a single bank of elevators. (There are stairs, but they're for emergency exit only. It's a feature I'm not fond of - I think it's wasteful for an able person like me to take an elevator for a few floors.)

So, how do lost people end up on our floor on a daily basis? If they were on the wrong floor (which happens often, too) it would be understandable. These are people, though, who don't know which floor - or, sometimes which wing - they need to be on. Do they walk into the first elevator they see and exit on a floor at random? We can't see any other way, but why do so many people do that?

He's well known in our clinic. He comes in often, as patients do in our clinic. He comes in sometimes just for free juice and crackers, and a chance to nap in our lobby. He seems harmless - barely coherent, often grumpy, often demanding, unpleasant, but basically a colorful street person. He appears a lot older than the age on his records. I looked at his file a while back: a history of violence, prison sentences for assaults and manslaughter. I'd never guess it, looking at him now. Today, he got out of hand - loud and rude and uncooperative. Oddly, though, he wasn't actually threatening anyone. Still, the triage nurse had to phone Security. He tried to leave before Security arrived, but they came up the elevator he was waiting for. It was sad, really.

Today, I was asked to be a member of the interview panel that will meet the candidates for my ex-coworker's position. I've never been on that side of an interview before. I'm looking forward to the new experience.

I learned two Sanskrit words in yoga class this evening: "hasta" (hand) and "pada" (foot).

We also did an interesting partner exercise this evening. Two people do Downward Facing Dog together, both people facing the same direction, with one person on top of the other, with their feet on the lower person's sacrum. It was a lot easier than it looks or sounds - and a lot more comfortable than it first appeared. It's a warm-up pose for a handstand, Denise explained.

When I was leaving for work this morning, with Phillip, I looked at my apartment key and suddenly remembered a fragment of a dream I'd had this morning. In the dream, that same apartment key had been snapped in two. That's all I remembered clearly - I kind of remembered it being an accident, and that a small child, or maybe a large animal, had done it. I sort of remembered it being no big deal - an annoyance, but knowing the key could be easily replaced.

Doctor No is due back to the library on the 24th, and I'm enjoying it. On page 157 is the first time (I think) that James Bond ever orders "a medium Vodka dry martini - with a slice of lemon peel. Shaken and not stirred, please." The villain in this novel has an expensive, impressive underground hideout, but, unlike the movies, the book explains how he got the money to build it, how it was built, and why his henchmen are working for him. Now Bond's been captured and, unlike the movies, is genuinely scared and truly has doubts that he's going to be able to stop Doctor No's plan. (Here's another time the novels differ from the movies: Bond's original purpose for sneaking onto Doctor No's island was to gather enough evidence to justify sending in the authorities.)

We met Colin yesterday morning, and introduced him to the game of geocaching.

We started out at Volunteer Park - a cache Phillip and I know well - and let Colin experience using the GPS receiver to find a cache. He did very well. Then we drove over to West Seattle to seek some geocaches we hadn't found yet. We sought four and found three. In the log for the Did Not Find, I wrote that we were introducing our nephew/in-law to geocaching, so it was fitting that he learn that sometimes the satellites don't cooperate, and that despite the best efforts of three people searching, sometimes you have to reluctantly call it a DNF.

The first West Seattle cache was by the side of the road. Colin, using the GPSr, led us to the right spot, and I found it. The next three were in the same, very large, wooded area that, somehow, I never knew existed. I found the second cache. We didn't find the third one. Phillip got tired and sat out the fourth cache - Colin found it while I was looking in the wrong area. I think Colin enjoyed geocaching, but he told us it's not something he could get into as a hobby.

I had two more West Seattle caches picked out that I wanted to do, but I got voted down. Instead, we drove around West Seattle until we found a Mexican restaurant for lunch.

Colin is a good kid - intelligent and personable. I forgot just how young 15 is.

Yesterday, a family under the geocaching name of dspwilson became the First To Find (and the first to log) "The Girls." It had been hidden for thirteen days.

I stayed up late last night and watched Sin City - a film I liked very much, despite the level of violence. Of course, if I were familiar with Frank Miller's graphic novels, I might have known what I was in for. I tend to love films with voice-over narration. Maybe that comes from reading so many introspective novels.