When it came time to replace our Saturn, there was no question that our next car would be a Prius. Well, almost no question. Our distant second choice was a Mini. There were several things against a Mini for us. With only two doors, traveling with a sugar glider cage would be difficult. With only two dealerships listed in the Seattle area - one in Fife and the other in Portland - I worried about repairs and servicing. We bought a Prius, and we remain fans of the Mini.

We see a lot of Minis in Seattle. Now Flexcar has replaced its "sports car" choice, from a Miata to a Mini. There is a Mini parked in the Flexpod up the street for us.

We have reserved a Flexcar Mini for a Christmas Day joyride. It's a bit of foolishness, but it should be fun.

Tonight is my last Church Council meeting. We are leaving the church.

This Friday is the last Friday evening yoga class. I have options.

This Saturday, we will have a sugar glider living with us again. Chicken Night will return.

This blog is currently dead. I am writing invisible words. Maybe someday, they will reappear.

Happy new year.

Will this post get published? I have no idea.

Yesterday was the Writers' Group Christmas party. Although no longer official members, Nancy and Blanche were invited. Barbara, Don, Russ, Bernice, and I - the regular members - were all there. Phillip came, too.

I read two pieces. The first was what I had intended to read last month. It was about a ten mile stretch of Highway 103, on Long Beach peninsula. I also read a more recent piece - a piece about the events that lead up to us deciding to get a new sugar glider.

During one of the periods of non-reading (which, of course, take up about 90% of Writers' Group time), I was asked why I hadn't been in church lately. Phillip and I had skipped church yesterday, and had gone directly to Writers' Group. So, Phillip and I confessed that we have been shopping for another church. Then the shocker came. We were told why the question had been asked: Two people in the room were also thinking about leaving Central, for, it turned out, the same reason as Phillip and me. (Russ wasn't one of them - he left Central a long time ago.) Then we learned that there are even more people - people not in that room yesterday - who are feeling the same as us.

(I continue to write posts for this blog, with hope that Blogger beta figures out its publishing problems. Someday this words will appear, and my profile over there, which I commented out a long time ago, but which re-appeared when this blog went beta, will go away again.)

A thing about geocaching is that, as the forums keep pointing out, "everyone plays the game in their own way." There are a few hard rules: "Sign the log book," "Don't log a cache more than once," "Don't reveal the cache location in your log," "Don't steal geocoins," and maybe a few others. But, other than that, it's an open game - or sport. Some people play for the numbers, some for the nice walk in a park. Some don't even log their finds online. It creates a game that appeals to just about every interest.

This openess can, and does, create disagreements, unfortunately. What might seem like fair play to one geocacher may annoy another.