Two weeks ago Loki left this world, and today his brother Baldur followed him. Poor Baldur had been blind for some time and was losing strength in his hind legs. I've watched him decline for some time, but after seeing him fall down the basement stairs and be unable to climb back up - I knew it was time to end his struggle.

Years ago I had two black cats, a male and female I called Loki and Lillith. Loki was a sweetie but was hit by a car at a young age. When I decided to adopt another pair of black cats, both male, I wanted to use the name Loki again - and decided to name his brother Baldur. In Norse myth, Baldur was the god of Love and Loki the god of Mischief. While they weren't related, they fit the common mythological construct of the good twin/evil twin. Oddly enough Loki the cat was a little devil - proud, tough, great hunter, not very companionable - while Baldur the cat was a little lover - sweet, gentle and cuddly. So often my cats have grown to fit their names.

Baldur quickly became my favorite, but he had a star-crossed life. We had a puppy that was a little crazy - and she nipped at Baldur one day, and took away a tiny piece of his ear. The simplest way to tell Loki and Baldur apart was to check their ears. Balder had this tooth-shaped notch in the tip of his left ear. Of course I could tell them apart just by looking - Loki had sharp features and a chunkier build. Baldur had a soft, pouty face, and was sleeker looking.

When he was young, I had to travel to India. My daughter's father came over to our house to stay with her and keep an eye on things. I left plenty of food for our menagerie, including extra bags of cat and dog food in the garage. Unfortunately, my ex decided that rather than go into the garage for more cat food, he'd just feed the cats dog food. Shortly after I got home, Baldur became extremely ill and had to be rushed to the emergency clinic, where he was diagnosed with kidney failure. It was touch and go, but he recovered and came home to resume his sweet, loving ways.

A couple of years after that we moved into a new house. At the time we had 5 cats. They had been kept indoors, but since I now had a large yard away from busy streets, I figured I'd let them go outside. I installed a cat panel in the sliding glass door, so they could come and go as they liked. I was very busy at the time, and probably not paying attention as I should, but one day I realized that I hadn't seen Baldur for a while. I would call him as I walked around the neighborhood - but he didn't come back. After a couple of months I decided that he was gone forever, and resigned myself to the loss. Time passed and I was offered a job in Paris, which I accepted. Now I was busy wrapping things up with the job I was working on and preparing to move. I came home one evening, parked the car in the driveway, and walked out to the mailbox. I heard a cat call, and looked around. On the roof of the neighbor's house was a black cat, calling for help. My first thought was that silly Loki had got himself stuck. I went into the garage and got a stepladder, took it over to the neighbors house, climbed up and reached out to the cat. "Come here sweetie, I'll get you down." The cat came readily, I grabbed hold of him, and climbed back down the stepladder. But the cat wasn't Loki, it was Baldur. He had been gone for more than a year and now - only weeks before our permanent departure - had returned, just like the prodigle son. I was ecstatic.

Baldur went with us to Paris and then moved with us to Virginia. His life in those days was fairly uneventful. Of course, he was an indoor cat again, so couldn't disappear, but he seemed content to lie in my lap or cuddle up next to me at night. Then we moved to Ohio. The day I took possession of my house I drove from Virginia to Ohio with five cats and a bunch of houseplants. Eight hours in the car was torture - and I was relieved after the signing to take my new keys and go to my new house. I opened the garage, drove inside, closed the door, and then carefully brought all the cats into the basement. Once everyone was safe inside, I went back to the garage and went to the market to get some groceries. I remember distinctly seeing Baldur standing by the basement stairs watching me.

When I got back from the grocery store, I couldn't find any of the cats except Loki, who, in his usual bold style, was prowling around the house checking everything out. I finally found one cat hiding behind the fridge and my youngest hiding under the basement stairs, but I couldn't find the fourth cat, and I couldn't find Baldur. I was devastated. I searched for house, and finally succumbed to exhaustion. When I woke in the morning I resumed the search. But frankly, there aren't that many hiding places in an empty house - and I was absolutely certain they couldn't have gotten out. I finally had to leave to pick up the moving truck and go back to Virginia to load my possessions.

That was the middle of October. I walked around the neighborhood and searched the classified ads, but finally concluded that the two missing cats were gone. On New Years Day morning I was standing in by bedroom, looking out the window at the street, and I saw a black cat run across the street. It was Baldur! I ran downstairs and out the front door - barefoot and in my nightgown - and started calling him. He paused and turned, then mewed, as if to say "Do you know me?" I sat down on a little wall and called him again. He came towards me slowly, not sure who I was, but finally I coaxed him in range. I grabbed him up and quickly checked the ear. There was the notch -identification confirmed. I ran back in the house, tears streaming down my face: my beloved Baldur was back again. He was very thin and ragged looking, but he was okay. I don't know how he survived those 3 months - but I was really glad to see him again. And he was delighted to be home at last. From that day onward he didn't stray far from home. Of course, he was getting older, but he seemed to really enjoy lying on a large stone in the backyard in the sun. And at night he'd crawl under the covers and snuggle up to me. Always my cuddle kitty.

I wrote before about his decline. And now that Loki is gone it's become harder and harder to watch him struggle. So I've decided to let him go. He and Loki will share a grave in the backyard, close to Baldur's favorite rock, I've never buried a pet before, but my black twins are very special to me. I will really miss them both. And to my beloved Baldur: goodnight sweet prince.

Earlier this week I was telling my new beautician about the trip my daughter and I made to California on highway 50. That trip was notable for several reasons, and I may post about it another time, but now I want to keep with my underlying theme about people striving to be like god. On another cross country trip we visited a grab bag of location: natural wonders, record setting sites (largest, longest, etc.), art museums, and roadside attractions.

Our conversations during the long drive parts of the trip often centered on art - what it was and how it was judged - and as a result i planned a little surprise for my daughter. We had stayed in Dickinson, North Dakota, to visit the dinosaur museum there, and were heading to Yellowstone National Park next, but I inserted a little side trip along the Enchanted Highway, which is at exit 72 from Interstate 94, 20 miles east of Dickinson.

The Enchanted Highway boasts a collection that is billed as the World's Largest Metal Sculptures. These sculptures, created by artist Gary Greff, pop up from the flat landscape on either side of the highway. The first one is quite unexpected (if you don't know it's going to be there). The sculptures - some fanciful and some quite realistic - are really the last thing you'd expect to find on this deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

We enjoyed the sculptures very much - stopping at a couple to take a closed look and take photos. And of course they ignited the debate. Art? Definitely. In the folk art category - which I define as by an unschooled artist - probably. Good? Now we get to the meat. A couple of them I liked very much. A couple of others, not so much. That's me. Other people might like all - or none - or different ones than me. The quality of an art work will always be determined by the beholder - and thus will vary.

So not only do we humans strive to be godlike by creating things - we also strive to be godlike by judging the value of those creations.

At any rate - The Enchanted Highway is on my list of 1000 things you should see before you die. The photos are nice, but they can't capture the context - and these massive sculptures rising out of the plains are amazing to see.

One of my black cat twins, Loki, passed away this morning after a short illness. He was 17-1/2.

Loki was my great hunter. In his youth, when we lived on Phoebe Way in Citrus Heights, he quickly cleared the yard of gophers. In Paris, he brought terror to the local pigeons, leaving many decapitated bodies on the hall rug for me. In Virginia, he was an indoor cat, but seemed content to retire his great hunting skills and stay close to me. He was always curious, always exploring, and always loving.

He would settle down in the room I was working and fall asleep. If he woke and I was gone he would wander around wailing, "Mom, Mom, where are you?" I would call out, "Loki, I'm here," and he would come to find me - content again.

His curiousity got him into trouble occasionally. In Paris, shortly after we moved in he decided to explore the rec center next door, and jumped off our first floor terrace into the grounds. He didn't think about how he would get back. So naturally, at 2 am, I heard his strong, loud voice, calling to me from the darkness below, "Mom, Mom, where are you?" I went downstairs and walked around the fence of the rec center, until I fould a place that he could reach. I called him and he came right away. Unfortunately the fence had very narrow openings, through which he couldn't fit - and it was more than six feet tall, so I couldn't lift him up over it. It was also very close to the ground, so in the end I ended up digging a hole under the fence, and pulled him through it. The embarrassing part was that he was so loud he woke the neighbors, who stepped out on their balcony and called down to ask if I needed help. Loki might have been curious, but he wasn't stupid - and he never jumped off the terrace again.

In the later years of his life Loki was still curious - he enjoyed prowling around outside exploring, though his kill rate went way down. He seemed content to rest on his laurels and let the younger generation carry on. He still woke confused and lonely - and his call often echoed through the house. He maintained his affection for me - and was most persistent. When he wanted to sit on my lap and be petted he would not take no for an answer.

I will miss his pride and his persistence and his affection. Rest in peace, old man.

I'm trying to make some real changes in my life and, as is natural for me, I've been doing a lot of reading. One book suggests as a first step setting focus by naming the year. I've thought a lot about other attempts I've made at change and what factors have contributed most to success or failure. One thing I realized is that I have spent most of my life cultivating the self image of independence, non-conformity, and rebellion. Everything has a flip side, and you could also say I've cultivated stubbornness, flakiness, and capriciousness. I fear that by striving to create a "different" life, I just lauched myself into a rut of behaviors that don't work.

So I'm declaring this, the "Year of the Groove". When I looked up synonyms for the word routine I found "conventional, everyday, normal, ordinary". Those are all things I've striven to avoid. Routine also has the synonyms "habit, method, pace, and groove". And I can see how my fear of one became an avoidance of the other, and this has not served me well.

So my primary focus this year will be to create routine in my life, establish good habits, and get on track to wherever I decide I want to go.

For the second time in a decade the Supreme Court issued a decision that I felt viscerally, just as if they'd punched me in my solar plexus. For a brief moment after hearing of the decision I literally couldn't breathe. All that crap about not legislating from the bench and respecting precedent. The Supremes are now on top of my postal list.

I've felt for some time that the American Empire had reached its apex and begun the long, slow descent to insignificance. When we think about the collapse of the Roman Empire we think of something sudden and drastic, like the destruction of Santorini or the collapse of Haiti after the earthquake. But in reality the collapse took hundreds of years. For individuals living through it, it probably just seemed like the present day wasn't quite up to the "good old days", like the golden years were just past.

I think that's where we are today. In the long slow decline, watching each year be a little worse than the year before. I've spent a lot of time waiting for some kind of climactic end - but I know now that it will not come in my lifetime - baring major natural disaster. So I'm going to stop worrying about the world and try to focus on my own area of influence.

Future generations are chucked - but for me - this is the year of the groove - as in getting into.

When I went to high school, driver's education was offered optionally to anyone who wanted to sign up. My mother didn't drive and my father commuted into Los Angeles every day. He was tired when he got home from work and really didn't enjoy taking my mother to the supermarket, my brother to boy scouts, and my sister and I to all our activities. I was the oldest, so as soon as possible I signed up for driver's ed.

I was assigned to a small group (four students) and an instructor. We met in the parking lot after school got out and started our training. Fortunately, or not, most of our training took place in the rain. I say fortunately, because to this day I cherish the lessons I learned about handling a car on wet roads. The unfortunate part is that it made the instructor more tense. Most of the kids in my group did pretty well - but I was a problem. I was easily distracted by conversations going on in the back seat and I had an unfortunate tendency to steer the car toward whatever I was looking at.

One day I was driving - in the rain as usual - and one of the kids said, "Wow, look at how high the water is, it's flowing over the curb." I turned to look and the car started heading toward the curb as well. The instructor grabbed my arm. "You don't look - you watch the road!!". As a result, the other kids in my group were put under strict instructions NOT to talk when I was driving. And I was told in no uncertain terms not to turn my head around - but to keep my eyes on the road. My instructor informed me that I could learn everything I needed about what was behind me by looking in my mirrors.

After the six weeks of training the class ended and I passed, though the instructor felt I needed more practice. My parents however, in their normal style, concluded that "KJ has completed driver's ed, so now she can drive". On my 16th birthday my dad drove me to the DMV and I went in to take my driving test. I easily passed the written test (multiple choice - so how hard could it be) - but I failed the driving test miserably. The inspector had me change lanes five times in a row and marked me off 10 point each time because I didn't swivel my head around to look behind me - an instant fail.

My father was furious. How stupid could I be! I explained that my driving instructor had told me never to turn my head - but of course it was not possible that my instructor had ever said such a stupid thing. Dad grudgingly took me out for a couple of practice sessions, working on that dreaded head turn thing, and then we went back to the DMV. This time I passed.

Ah, peace in Mudville at last. Dad had purchased a used Chevy station wagon (the classic woody) for me to drive. So now it became my chore to take Mom to the store, and my siblings to all their activities. I was also now able to drive myself to school (no more bus). I became very popular in my class and soon had a crew that I drove home from school every day. I did get a lot of practice at driving - but almost all of it came after I got my license and very little of it was under my father's supervision.

I started out November hopefully and signed up for NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo, with plans to put in some good work. NaNoWriMo went in the dumpster pretty quickly - too much work and not enough time to concentrate. But I soldiered on valiantly with NaBloPoMo - until Thanksgiving. And then I ran out of steam. So why didn't I finish. Simply - boredom. I didn't have anything interesting to say. I did much better last year when I had a theme. But death as a theme wore on me after a time. When I decided to leave the land of death, I decided to just do random entries - but that hasn't worked too well.

Driving back from Ohio I had another idea - a series of little themes that I've had in mind to write about. So I've linked those themes to my user pics and found a random die roller. My plan is to roll the die and then write a post on the theme tied to that number. So I'm now going to try randomly rotating themes.

Tune in tomorrow and see how it works.

I'm thankful that I have a job and my health and a comfortable home and loving friends and family.

I remain hopeful that our leadership will bring us out of current recession and rebuild our reputation in the world.

I wish for all health, happiness, and long life. Oh and world peace.

It's very hard doing a blog every day. When Death was my theme it was easier finding things to write about, but now it's not so easy Still only five more days. . .

I was talking to myself - as I often do - going through my action plan for the next hour: feed the cats, write my blog, maybe read a bit, get some sleep. But as the list was being recited I was actually thinking about connections and friendships and how I've never connected in Cinci and what I could do differently in Virginia. I thought about developing friends in the workplace and then it happened - this odd stray thought jumped into the middle of everything, "You'll never get a man in the workplace."

Huh? Where did that come from? Clearly my subconscious - but what was the source. Was this the expression of a long buried desire - or was it perhaps the scratchy recording of another voice in my mind: Mom. I've been single/celibate for more than fifteen years - and honestly I wouldn't want it any other way. In fact, I put on my armor of flesh to ensure that I won't attract interest. My scar tissue runs too deep and I'll never be able to trust enough to let anyone in close again. It's okay - but the girl raised by my mother knows that every true woman's goal is to get a man. And my little shame story is that I failed at that.

Still - that old voice needs to go. Looks like I'll have to figure out a new approach. It's too late to confront the bear, but if I put my mind to it I'm sure I can figure out a way. Wish me luck.

It's almost the end of November and I still don't know what's going to happen next. Where will I live, where will I work, when will something happen? Still, it's almost time for a day off - which will be much needed - and then I guess we'll see.

It's times like these that I get crazy ideas of getting rid of everything and wandering off into the sunset. So ill-formed a plan - yet who can plan when nothing ever gets settled?

I listened tonight to one of my favorite Joni Mitchell albums. This was the music that formed the backdrop of my life in college. Lots of tragic romance. And women who are too restless to form permanent bonds. Do we seek out music that fits us - or do we let the music sculpt us subtly into reflections of the characters imagined in the songs.

One of the reasons I love Joni is that I can sing along with her. Her range fits mine perfectly - which is not to say that I sound even remotely like her - just that I can carry her tunes.

Funny how I can still sing along after all these years - the memory is such a funny thing.

A short time ago I postulated that the defining characteristic of human beings is their desire to create beauty - to become somehow godlike. The Nova program, Last Human Standing, part of the Becoming Human series, had another characteristic.

Homo sapiens is set apart from all other animals by its intense exploitation of the environment. Neanderthals hunted big game and ate meat - almost exclusively. They didn't eat roots and berries, they didn't eat fish, they didn't eat eggs. For hundreds of thousands of years they survived and lived in the same manner - hunting big game and eating meat. But homo sapiens spread out over its environment and found a use for everything. They ate anything and everything, they created new sophisticated tools to facilitate their exploitation of the environment. They ate shellfish and used the shells to make jewelry. Homo sapiens were also fertile breeders and as their population increased they swarmed out of Africa and over the earth. And as they went large mammals and other branches of humans died out.

The triumph of homo sapiens over its environment is a truly amazing story. I think I like my original idea better though. Our ability to exploit our environment may bring us to the brink of extinction. Our desire for beauty and creation may enable us to prevent that outcome.

Two interesting developments:

1. An advisory panel of physicians issued recommendations about breast and cervical cancer screenings. The timing of the report was poor, falling so squarely into the health care "overhaul" debate going on. For a lot of people, it tilts toward the "rationing" of health care they fear so much. Most people don't realize that we already have rationing. However, if people followed the new recommendations there would be many, many fewer mammograms and pap tests every year. I don't think big medicine will allow this to happen.


2. I received communications from two of my credit card companies. Cap One wanted me to "opt-in" to overlimit transactions being allowed and charged a fee for. Since I was only allowed 3 minutes to make a decision - and I am really skeptical of anything they're selling when I don't have time to think about it - I declined. But Am Ex is planning to eliminate charges for overlimit transactions, but make some really complicated changes to other things.

Personally I don't expect either health care overhaul or credit card regulations to improve my life in any way. I'm certain that in the trade off between the best interests of "the people" and the profits of big business that cost savings and best practices in health care or taming the credit monster, which could improve many people's lives, will be judged "too expensive".

When I got home, the first thing I discovered was that my phone appeared to be broken. I took it apart and put it back together - and apparently I fixed the problem. Then I discovered that the kitchen faucet had sprung a major leak. Fortunately Home Depot is having a sale on faucets. Still, replacing a faucet wasn't in my plan for this week.

Since these things always come in threes, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hope it's something simple.

I don't know why I've been so focused on death in the past several months. On Stargate Universe there was a marvelous piece where a young man talked about the first time he realized that he would die someday.

An older character mentioned that everyone has that moment, the important thing is how you respond to it. I think that everyone realizes at some point that they will die someday. But for most of us that someday is a vague, distint, unimagined future. I think that as long as our parents are alive, we can feel free from death. They serve as our buffer against the end. It's so innate, the sense that parents pass before their children, that we are always stunned when a child goes before the parent. But once our parents are gone, then we move into the queue. We're next.

It's not that I think I'm going to die tomorrow, or anytime very soon - it's just that I feel in a sense that it's something I should become familiar with and plan for.

Tonight I drove back to Ohio to spend the upcoming holiday week here. The drive was miserable, as traffic was terrible, the first half of the journey was through a downpour and/or fog, and I was constantly worrying that another of my tires would blow.

Still I made it home, to find that my sick kitty is improving. Apparently putting food upstairs has helped a lot, as he's gained a little weight and has started moving around a bit more.

The hard part is that I've decided to move, so I've already disconnected from here as "home". It's become a bit of a burden: a place I have to deal with. My phone wasn't working, the faucet in the kitchen has sprung a huge leak, the sitter has neglected some of the houseplants, and the yard needs work. Just a huge list of things to do.

Fortunately, I should have some time with the holiday - but not as much as I'd like, as of course the big proposal at work is coming due soon and it will require a fair bit of overtime.

Ah well. C'est la vie.

Today was one of those hectic days (so hectic that I wrote this and forgot to post it) that don't give us much time to think about the things going on around us. Still, I watched SYTYCD tonight and was thrilled to see another fabulous Wade Robson routine: dancers as sculptures coming to life.

So many of the dancers talk about how dance is their life that it got me thinking about the artful life. Some people live for their art, and some - Martha Stewart comes to mind - live as if their life is a work of art. It's easy to get caught up in the day to day and lose the things that we are/were passionate about and lose ourselves.

I tried, walking around the office and to and from my hotel, to think about my posture and my stride and the "picture" I made walking. In college I used to imagine myself a panther slinking through the jungle. Just keeping that image in mind changes the way I walk and moves me from that fat, stiff old lady waddle I was developing. I liked the change.

I'm going to try more often to keep an image in my mind of the person I want to be, and maybe I can sculpt something better.

Friday the new movie 2012 debuted, and apparently it had a great weekend. This film is another in a long series of end of the world films. In the next few weeks we'll have The Road, which is another apocalyptic film. Normally, as memory serves, such films are summer entertainment, so it seems odd to have them coming out just before the holidays.

Still it fits with the general atmosphere in the world. My favorite astrologer devoted this week's newsletter to a discussion of the "visionaries and prophets" who expect "a sudden cascade of events that completely changes everything everywhere". The news is bleak. Our politicians seem to be incapable of doing anything useful to help this country and hell bent on continuing their silly, partisan games. Most of the media seems obsessed with trivialities like Sarah Palin's new book and Obama's bow to the Japanese Emperor.

Even David Brooks, the sober, thoughtful conservative columnist, wrote about the lack of optimism in this country.

It would be easy to follow along and allow the fear and the despair to engulf us. For me, I'm striving to be hopeful for the future. I'm making my plans and working to bring them to fruition. I hope that this, too, will pass. And soon.

I mentioned that R. and I went to brunch at this delightful restaurant in Southwest DC and that we were the only white people in the room. Interestingly, neither of us mentioned that fact while we were inside and eating. I didn't feel uncomfortable and as the food was excellent, the music on the loudspeaker was really enjoyable, and the service was prompt and pleasant, I really enjoyed myself.

R. and I did discuss it when we left, as we were certainly objects of curiosity to the other patrons of the restaurant. The most interesting thing was when a co-worker asked me about my weekend and I told her about the restaurant. She suggested that everyone else probably felt as uncomfortable as I did. I found that a surprising way to look at the situation. Was it remarkable? Yes. Was I uncomfortable? No. R. is gay and I am a woman, so we've both been discriminated against in our lives and can relate to the whole minority thing. Were the people in the restaurant uncomfortable with us being there? I don't think so. They seemed mildly curious, probably wondering how we had managed to find "their" place. But no one seemed to be inhibited.

I would certainly go back and I would take my friends. It was a good meal and a good value and a pleasant time in a lovely setting. And I think I would be welcomed back. I wish I could live to a time when race/color, gender/preference, age/religion don't separate us from our fellows.

Today was a beautiful day. Crisp, perfect temperature. I drove into DC with my good friend R. We drove down Constitution Avenue, past the mall, then up to Capitol Hill and drove past R's old house. The fall colors everywhere on the ride were just beautiful

Then we went down to the waterfront, parked the car and had Sunday brunch in a restaurant there. The food was fabulous and the fact that we were the only white people in the place was fun. After brunch we went to attend a couple of open houses. The first place was gorgeous, and R fell totally in love, though it was a little small for me. The second place had good bones, but was in terrible shape. The biggest problem was that both were co-ops, and the monthly co-op fees were in excess of $1000, which added to the potential mortgage was way more than either of us is interested in paying.

Still, it was a terrific day.

I started watching Saturday Night Live a little bit ago, and I realized how out of touch I am with much of existing culture. I don't know who any of the people are - which feels quite odd. Then they started a skit featuring Jimmy Stewart, Grace Kelly, and Alfred Hitchcock - and I thought - ah something for the old folks. But then it degenerated into a long, unfunny fart joke.

I don't get it. I guess I'm really getting old. And at the risk of sounding like my mother, if this is what passes for humor today, I'm not sorry I've lost touch.