It's been a year since our beloved girl cat, Gloria, left us. We still miss her, occasionally to the point of a tear or two. But my 2006 Father's Day present, a kitten named Lily who was renamed Billy when his gender became more readily apparent, is keeping us hopping with kitty fun.

It didn't take long for the boy cat to make himself at home. Here he is presiding over a recent sleepover:

But don't let that mellow-guy look fool you. Billy is a feisty fellow. For example, he brought home a little Christmas present for us the other day:

He's not above prowling around on the kitchen counters looking for tasty snacks that the humans forgot to cover up or put away, either. I kiddingly state from time to time that "all cats are bad," but this one truly lives up to the naughty stereotype.

The other night, the Mrs. and I were up late, enjoying a rare adult conversation in the kitchen after the kids were out like lights for the night. We were comparing notes on the fine Christmas celebration that we were concluding, when from the front of the house came a loud CRASH!

Neither one of us knew what it was. I thought that maybe our older daughter had rolled out of her top-bunk bed. The Mrs. thought that maybe Billy had knocked over the Christmas tree. But it didn't really sound like either of those catastrophes would have. The crash noise sounded kind of wet!

We rushed into the living room, bathed in the lovely Christmas tree light, and took a quick look around. She spotted it first -- it was the fish bowl!

We have a Siamese fighting fish (a.k.a. a betta) in a nice bowl with a plant in it. The fish can eat the plant if we humans don't get around to sprinkling fish food into the bowl. It's not the greatest life a fish could have, but it beats being canned by Bumble Bee. Anyway, our betta, named Candlefish because of the proximity of the bowl to a decorative candle, had found himself flopping around on the hardwood floor after Billy had knocked over his bowl, which had been perched -- safely, we thought -- atop an antique bookcase around five feet off the floor.

Fortunately, the bowl stayed on the bookcase, and so there was no broken glass to deal with. But the bowl's contents were all over the place. We didn't see Candlefish right away. "Get the fish!" I hissed, scanning the floor in the dim red light. We turned on a nearby floor lamp and saw Candle's tail end flapping its way into a slot at the very bottom of the lamp base. I picked him up with my hand; we righted the bowl, which still had a few inches of water in it, and plopped him back in, shaken up but apparently not fatally wounded.

What followed was a very hasty mop-up operation, hustling to save the antique bookcase's finish as well as that of the floor. Billy, who had run when we arrived, wisely remained out of the room as we soaked up the puddles and cussed him out.

When we had restored water to the bowl and gotten just about all of the old water up, we tried to reconstruct the events leading up to the crash. The only theory that makes sense is that the boy kitty had been eyeing the fish from the back of a nearby cushy chair, and he decided to try to leap at it from the chair, a distance of about four and a half feet:

You've got to hand it to the guy -- he made contact, even if he didn't get to play with, or taste, his prey.

Fast forward to a couple of nights later, and Candlefish is still in the land of the living. We've got him on the kitchen counter near the sink now, where the surfaces are less fragile and he's a little less obvious. But it's just a matter of time before Billy notices him there. You wonder how early in the new year the next assassination attempt will come.

Here's a site that promises to provide hours of amusement.

Just another sign that an actual business that actually makes something is not welcome in Portland any more -- particularly if it's already been here for a while. Get out and make way for another Starbucks, dang it!

My congressman, Earl the Pearl, sent me a newsletter this week. What with all the important business facing the nation and world, I was a little taken aback to see him advise us, "Buy fresh foods instead of frozen." What next, Earl -- earth-friendly crock pot recipes?

I wish the mainstream media would get it right. As I've said here before, the first baby born in the new year isn't anywhere near as cool as the last baby born in the old year. So you assignment editors out there, when you send the reporters to the phones to check around the area hospitals, be sure they get the name of the kid who gave his or her parents the maximum tax deduction for the year with the minimum number of diaper changes. And give the kid equal billing with the first one out after midnight. Time is money!

And only 650,000 civilians had to die to get us there. Mission accomplished! I'm so proud to be an American right now.

But it's difficult.

(Via TRP, who finally got to cash in his World Cup pool win with me last week.)

Trumpet sensation Chris Botti was born in Portland, Oregon.

The new edition of our excellent neighborhood newspaper, The Hollywood Star, has arrived, and it looks different. The word "Hollywood" is being played down, and the word "News" has cropped up, as big as "Star":

The old masthead logo looked like this:

So what does it mean? Too much confusion with the other Star, down in the more famous Hollywood? More emphasis on news? Ambitions to expand its coverage territory? (Already it covered a larger area than the Hollywood District.)

Inside, Star owner Mary DeHart assures us that it's a matter of design and format, rather than content. They've moved the heart of the paper -- the neighborhood news column written by Lee Perlman -- back to page 6 rather than page 2, and they've moved some features up front. I think there are more photos than before. All in all, the changes seem quite benign. It's still a great resource, and we're lucky to have it. (Alas, no serious web presence, but it seems to be thriving without it.)

I'm stiff and sore today, but it's a good thing. This past week, I ran down to the gym and back a couple of times -- my first visits to that facility in quite a while.

I needed that. I woke up on the Feast of Stephen softer and weaker than in years. I had thought that the sabbatical trek I made to the Bay Area this fall would provide ample opportunity for exercise, but it turned out that the free moments were spent recovering from the rigors of constant jet travel. I took a few jogs around the neighborhood I was staying in down there, and there was a good deal of walking in my routine, but aerobic exercise was infrequent indeed. And for upper body strength, there was nothing.

It's been a lackluster year for me in the fitness department -- only 100 miles run, as opposed to 269 just three years ago. Not surprisingly, that packs an extra five to 10 pounds on a guy at my age. But at least it was something; I'd hate to see what the mirror revealed if I didn't get sweaty at all.

I'm determined that 2007 is going to be different. I've reacquainted myself with my favorite running route and weight circuit, and I'm hopeful that I'll soon get into a groove. I'm going to pick up a new pair of running shoes in the next few days. I won't be alone in my resolution, of course. While the gym was pretty empty the day after Christmas, the activity was definitely picking up yesterday afternoon. It will no doubt be a madhouse come Tuesday.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the aches and pains I've earned so far. Like they say: No pain, no gain.

Ex-Trail Blazer Sebastian Telfair's been proving with the Boston Celtics what we said the whole time he was here: He's just not that good. Now he's been taken out of the Celts' starting lineup, and he can't seem to shoot his way out of a paper bag. I hope he knows where his handgun is, at least. Meanwhile, Portland's got three solid point guards in Jarrett Jack, Brandon Roy, and Sergio Rodriguez -- quite the net improvement.

The Blazers have a problem in the middle, however. I hate to say it, but they played better when Joel Przybilla was out with an injury. Jamaal Magloire isn't anything to write home about, but between him and LaMarcus Aldridge, the Blazers have sufficient talent in there that they can afford to experiment with not starting Przybilla every game. The chemistry among the big guys just doesn't seem right, at least not yet.

Until an alert reader sent along this photo of the city truck that they had to pull out of the Buckman sinkhole, I had no idea how big that vehicle was. The darn thing was about 40 to 45 feet long! That's the rear end at the top, being extracted by a crane that you can barely make out, and the front of the truck is at pavement level, with a coil of hose on the very front of it.

That's one dang big truck, and as there was only around 10 feet of the truck sticking out of the crater, a dang big hole!

An incredible ending to a fantastic football season. Congratulations!

I am a decaf guy. Years ago, I learned that my blood sugar is prone to swings, and that caffeine (particularly first thing in the morning, on an empty stomach) makes it worse. And so I abandoned regular coffee in favor of decaf, and after cheating for years with Diet Coke, I finally bagged that one almost four years ago.

Losing the Diet Coke was one of the best dietary moves I ever made. Of course, there's still dark chocolate, but let's not dwell on petty details.

Anyway, this year, for the holidays, I made a consumer selection that worked well last year. I picked up a half pound of the fabulous (and muy caro) Panama Esmeralda coffee beans at Peet's, with the idea of allowing myself an evil treat now and then over Christmas. I just enjoyed my first cup of the stuff for the year, and all I can say is WOO HOO!!!

Man, this is some strong drug. If you down regular coffee routinely, take it from me: You're a druggie.

As for the Esmeralda, Stumptown also sells it, at a much lower price the last time I checked. Its version is also wonderful, but different, and to my taste not quite as good as the Peet's roast. But if you do try either one some afternoon, be sure to come back to this blog at 3 in the morning. I'm often blogging at that hour.

If this can be called a "work week" at all, it's ending. If that means that your blog reading is also ending for the weekend, have a great one. Party safely, and we hope to see you back here next year.

As the nation mourns James Brown and Gerald Ford, let us not forget James's immortal words about Ford. Well, they were sort of about Ford...

You gotta love the City of Portland and the Port of Portland. They pick today -- December 28, late afternoon -- to announce that they're going to extend the north runway at the airport. The supposed reason is that they need to make repairs to the south runway, and they need to extend the north before they shut down the south to fix it. But one suspects that once the north runway is extended, aircraft takeoff and landing patterns may be permanently changed from what they are today.

Anyhow, the Port has spent big bucks on a flash animation presentation, and they say they want your input. But there's no information in the slick come-on about noise changes, and given the timing of today's announcement, one has to wonder how sincere they are about wanting our input.

How much is it costing each day to run the OHSU Health Club aerial tram? And what was the final tab on the construction?

As City of Portland officials try to figure out how to repair a giant sinkhole in the Buckman neighborhood, real estate developer Joe Weston has increased the size of his latest condo tower project to make up for the lost volume in the city's real estate stock.

Under city planning rules, Weston will be permitted to add two stories onto his 32-story condo tower proposed for 1405 SW Morrison Street if he can get a revised application filed before the Buckman sinkhole, at SE 16th and Oak, is fixed. "The sinkhole is about 20 feet deep," explained Josh Jostling, an assistant vice planner with the city design commission. "That means the additional two stories are permitted as of right under the rules."

City Commissioner Erik Sten praised the proposed revision to Weston's project, calling it "the kind of innovative thinking that we like to see." He added: "I think 34 stories isn't much different from 32. Also, the additional shade over the 405 freeway will definitely make a dent in global warming. In that sense, it's a very green building."

Sten's colleague, Sam Adams, agreed. "This plan is all about sustainability," Adams noted. "I would make a better mayor than Erik, and I think Joe knows that."

In a related development, officials in the planning bureau announced that their offices will be open until midnight Sunday night to accept Weston's amended documents. "We always have people who are about to retire, working overtime on New Year's Eve to jack up their PERS," explained Bill Kelly, bureau director, "and so the expanded hours are not an extra burden on the general fund."

Oh man, not since pro wrestling left town has there been an event that promises as much fun as this one:

Before we begin moving forward, PP&R Director Zari Santner would like to take the time to look back – and to answer any remaining questions about the overall maintenance facilities plan and the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with Warner Pacific College.

January 16... PCC on 82nd... be there for PPR RAW!!!

(Warning: In order to participate fully in the public participation process for the sellout of Portland's Parks, you will have to attend 116 meetings and 10 "charrettes." Otherwise, you will be completely ignored. As soon as you get tired, the property will be handed over to the condo weasels. But thanks for showing up and making it look like we care about you.)

It's great to see that Portland activist and former City Council candidate Amanda Fritz has started her own blog. Amanda is a critical thinker, and she really does her homework when it comes to issues that arise in city government. I think she's all wet about "voter-owed elections" and some other things, but she and I share a certain kind of skepticism about many others. If, like me, you try to keep up with the doings at City Hall, you'll need to bookmark her location.

Good luck with the technical side of blogging, Amanda. Don't let the trolls get you down. Learn the "IP Deny" function -- it's very therapeutic. On a happier note, I have no doubt that the content side of the postings on the site is going to be excellent.

There's a bit of mystery, too -- what the heck is that little "favicon"? "Equal water for all"? "Frowning under the mountain"? "My hat's too big"? "Hershey's Kisses and baseball"?

The latest Portland Development Commission appraisal of the Police Headquarters block is in:

I moved out west from New Jersey in 1975 to attend law school at Stanford. It was a turning point in my life, and it was a fairly important time in history for the law school as well. The school's new buildings opened just as we arrived, and if I previously had any doubt that I had made it to the big time, well... the Leader of the Free World was flying in to dedicate the complex. As Stanford law students, we all were invited to attend and sit in the reserved section.

The President at the time was Gerald Ford, the former congressman from Michigan who became vice president and wound up in the White House after Nixon and Agnew were disgraced. He was a decent guy, but dull, and something of a klutz. Chevy Chase would later make a name for himself goofing on the guy. Rather than cut the ribbon on the law school, some suggested, Ford would probably cut his tie by mistake.

For a week or so leading up to the presidential visit, the school and the nearby dorms (of which I was a new resident) were crawling with Secret Service guys. The dark suits, t