I have recently come to the realization that I don't much like furniture. People remind me that I'm welcome to use the chair, not understanding that I'd prefer to sit on the floor. During the last Council retreat, I picked the turret as my bedroom, specifically so I could sleep on the floor.

I think that preference for the floor is why I've had a mental resistance to Lisa's suggestions that I use props during yoga class - to sit on a block during the pre-class meditation and most sitting asanas, and to put a folded blanket under my head during savasana. I do it, of course, because I trust her wisdom, but I've kind of resented it. I see her point, though - it really does help my alignment. I sit on the block, put the blanket under my head, without the suggestion.

So, maybe furniture and I are like Gladden and his medicine. I don't like it, but I know it's good for me.

I really needed yoga today. It's been a rough day. First there was the power struggle between two groups, with me stuck in the middile of it. Then there was the news that a co-worker has had a stroke. Yoga helps.

Today is World AIDS Day. We closed the clinic an hour early and had a ceremony/party. Staff and patients were invited. The Hospital Chaplain gave a multi-/non- denominational service. He signaled a moment of silence with a Tibetan prayer bowl, and read the fox's story from The Little Prince. Our clinic's Medical Director gave a talk about the clinic's history. He mentioned what a good sign it is that the clinic has become boring over the years. There were refreshments. It was moving and well done.

I like my job. I am inspired to write a piece for "Readers Write," on the topic of "Nine To Five."

Out latest geocache, "White Noise," is turning out to be very popular (judging by the logs) - and also a source of worry. I had to go out tonight for some emergency maintenance. I think a re-design is order, if the cache is going to last. White Noise is a battle between Velcro™ and Krazy® Glue. Velcro is winning. I wish that Krazy Glue would stick to rock as well as it sticks to my fingertip.

Four people showed up for the Welcome & Nurture Committee meeting last night: Barbara, Meghan, Annie, and me. There was no Committee Chair and no agenda. We talked for less than thirty minutes, and didn't accomplish anything. I was home in time to feed Gladden.

I had a dream this morning that Flexcar had started a new program which allowed its members to borrow Metro Transit busses for private use. Knowing that Metro busses are never locked, I decided to steal one and take it on a joyride. I came up with an impromptu plan to drive my stolen bus up north, park it, and then make my way back home by either walking or getting a ride in a real bus. There was a bus stop I thought about, in front of a small adobe building. There was a small shop in the adobe building. The bus stop was memorable to me because there was an old, abandoned typewriter case that had been left by the bus stop shelter. The typewriter case had been there as long as I could remember.

As I drove my stolen bus northward, an elderly woman at a bus stop by St. Marks Cathedral tried to flag me down with her white cane. I passed her by without stopping. I decided that it might make me less conspicuous if the bus displayed "OUT OF SERVICE" or, better yet, "TRAINING COACH." I didn't know the codes for the electronic signs, however. I realized that if anyone noticed me, or recognized me, I'd be in big trouble. It wasn't a fear, however, just something I'd have to be prepared for. I kept trying to find the codes for the electronic signs.

I continued driving north. I found several laminated cards under the driver's seat that might be the codes. They were nothing but incomprehensible symbols. I came to the bus stop by the adobe shop and parked. The typewriter case was still there. I kept trying to find the codes. A woman got on the bus, sat down, and asked me if I'd ever tried to open that thing (pointing to the typewriter case). No, I never have, I answered her, as I kept looking for the codes. Then I realized that I didn't need the codes anymore. I told the woman that I'd be right back, and I started walking down the sidewalk.

I saw a reflection of myself, walking down the sidewalk. I was wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt and tan shorts. My pager was clipped to my shirt pocket. I took off my pager and clipped it to my belt. I realized that I had forgotten to forward our phone to my pager. I realized that the pager was useless, because I had never given the number to anyone. End of dream.

Phillip and I returned to church this morning. Our return wasn't prompted by desire, however, but by duty. That may have been part of the problem.

Barbara had asked us, a few weeks ago, to cover Coffee Hour today. We were supposed to cover it with Brenda, but she couldn't make it. Then we were supposed to cover it with someone new to our congregation, who had never covered Coffee Hour before. He didn't show up. So it was just Phillip and me. We'd brought cheese and crackers, "Chex Mix" type munchies, and fruit juice. As we set things up in the church kitchen, before service, people kept stopping by to snack on the munchies and crackers by the handfuls. It put me in a rotten mood, and I felt forced to hide the food before going to service. (Yes, I know we brought the food for people to eat, but it was expected for the after-service social gathering.)

Despite the fact that the Sanctuary was only half-full, we were mobbed at Coffee Hour. Even with Bernice and Cindy pitching in to help us, we couldn't keep up. Pots of coffee disappeared faster than they could be brewed. People kept walking into the kitchen to ask us to put out more crackers, and to tell us we were out of coffee mugs again, and to request that the coffee be hotter next time. A bag of fruit - oranges, apples and bananas - showed up out of nowhere. There seemed to be enough food, but the four of us just couldn't serve it fast enough. We couldn't figure out why that was happening. My mood didn't improve.

It's like my cousin once said to me: You'd expect your fellow church members to be nicer than the general public, but the opposite is most often the case.

Several people remarked that they hadn't seem me in church for a long time, but only Wayne and Cindy expressed any concern for me. (Wayne told me I was missed at the Church Council meeting. Cindy asked me how I'd been - Just OK?) I'm going to the Welcome & Nurture Committee meeting tomorrow. My church, I was reminded today, is a lot better at welcoming than it is at nurturing.

Phillip & I went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire this afternoon. It was showing at The Metro, in the U District. There was a marathon race going on somewhere, that we forgot about, and that had every conceivable route from Capitol Hill to the U District blocked. One narrow back road was blocked at the bottom of the hill, resulting in a surprise dead end - I suggested to the fellow placing the traffic cones that it might be a better idea to block the start of the street instead. After several circles and u-turns we finally made it to the movie on time. I was in a even worse mood than this morning. Then we watched the movie, and I was suddenly in a good mood. The Harry Potter movies, like the books, just keep getting better and better.