There Are No Satellites In My Crotch
As sure a sign as any that spring has arrived, geeks are dusting off their Global Position System receivers (GPSr) and heading out-of-doors. Those that don’t immediately burst into flame consider themselves lucky. With that luck in hand, they go and try to find Geocaches. (If you haven’t heard of Geocaching, Google it. If you haven’t heard of Googling, then you really shouldn’t read this blog.)
Of course, it took more than just our forlorn GPSrs to motivate us. It took a new iPhone app. Further it took the knowledge that we’ve been walking past a cache nearly every day for a year to really burn the shame into us.
Thus armed, we found two caches with easy walking distance of our house on Saturday. Date night (Tuesday for those of you keeping track) was spent getting Dick’s cheeseburgers (Yes, you could make the joke about lesbians with a mouthful of Dick’s, but it’s been done to death), and wandering around Capitol Hill (Seattle) following our GPSrs. We bagged three.
Despite the fact that The Great Burning Orb was in the sky, we enjoyed both outings. That is, until She left the GPSr in Her lap, and discovered a place where the satellites don’t shine.

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