Mini-break, Part II: And I Thought the Human Female Came Home From Shopping With Odd Things

We have left the disappointing detective exhibit and are now wandering through an area designed to showcase the museum’s most recent acquisitions.  It’s a motley assortment, for certain.

Sleipnir’s fetlocks!  Why is the human female’s head in this glass case?!


Oh, sorry.  My mistake.  It’s just a reconstruction of some stone-age nonentity.  The horrible hair, the bushy eyebrows, the beady eyes, the hairy chin—the resemblance is astounding.  You can see why I was momentarily confused.

Sigyn is intrigued by the simply enormous seashells.


Sigyn,  you’d need an awful lot of garlic butter for that escargot!


Ooooh!  Pretty!  The exhibit card says what this is, in terms of minerals and cracks and heat and nodules and blah, blah, blah, but all I can think of is…

rock slice

…what an amazing table top this would make!  I shall have to visit after hours and…acquire… it for my eventual palace.

I saw this armor from across the room, and I had to come over and take a closer look because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it’s made of.


Turns out it’s really, really hard seed pods.  Because nothing is more terrifying than…vegetation.

Oh, look!  Someone has made some cunning architectural models.  Nicely done.


I’m definitely taking notes for my eventual palace.

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You Believe It Wasn’t Me, Right?

By my own pointy helmet, I swear this wasn’t me!

One: taking only 5% of a nation’s GDP is too paltry to bother with, and

Two:  Liberian money is just too hard to unload.

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Mini-break, Part I: A Not-so-super Sleuth

The humans have snatched the chance to go see the Knittery Friend and her clan in the Big City to the South.  When you’re trying to arrange things to fit six people’s schedules, it can be quite difficult to find a date that suits everyone.  (The baby is isn’t two yet, expressed no opinions, and has no appointments in his  calendar, so he doesn’t count.)

We are taking the opportunity to go to the big museum while we are here.  There is a big exhibit about a famous, fictitious Midgardian detective with preternaturally keen powers of observation.


Pfft!  I’m the only one with powers here.

The part of the exhibit about the author, his sources, and his methods is really well done.


Sigyn is a bit squeamish around human skulls, so she is busy reading the old newspapers.

There are little displays about what was cutting edge science in the late 1800’s. There’s a stamp you can collect at every “station.”  Sigyn is tickled because botany is included.


Plus, she loves stamps!  (But why is the “optics” stamp a footprint?)

One of the displays shows how a paper with a pattern of slits cut out of it can be held over a text to reveal a secret message.


Hmm.  That didn’t work awfully well, because the rubbing of brass newspaper article they had out for rubbing came out rather blurry.  And the holes their punching machine made in the paper didn’t line up very well with the text.  That resulted in an extra-cryptic message!


Sigyn thinks the slotty paper’s fun to play with, though.

One room is set up like the great detective’s study, with all sorts of books and props from the stories.  The little notebook has a list of items we’re supposed to find .  The human male has found everything, but how he figured out which of the portraits was Dr.  Beecher, I surely do not know.


Ehehehe!  The “V. R.” is spelled out with bullet holes in the wallpaper.  That’s fun!

Fandral’s mustache!  Sigyn, look, we get to try to solve a case!  The whole second half of the exhibit is set up like a crime scene and a lab.


The crime scene has all sorts of clues–a smashed statue, a fireplace full of burned books,  and drag marks.  A seedpod?   Multiple bodies?  Blood spatter?  This is agreeably spine-tingly, don’t you think, Sigyn?

There’s a seed pod we’re supposed to match with actual plant samples, as well as some demonstration chemical “tests” to determine if the seed pod was toxic or had poison added to it.


I don’t think it looks like a worm.  Sigyn doesn’t think it looks like a worm.  The human female doesn’t think it looks like a worm—and it doesn’t appear to match any of the samples.  One of the docents, though, says its meant to be Wisteria.  The human female remains skeptical.

Also, the human female, in her usual insufferable way, has found a wrong translation in the Spanish part of one of the chemical  test stations.  And the text of the demo test stations seems to suggest there are two “tests” to do on the plant sample, but after a quarter hour of looking all over the room, it seems there’s only one.  She’s starting to look cranky.

Ooo! Here’s the blood spatter evidence.  We’re supposed to match it with the spatter patterns produced by several gruesome penny-arcade-like machines.


Sigyn is more than a little uncomfortable.  I’d like to go back through and make the machines squirt “blood” all over again, but Sigyn is feeling a bit queasy.  Moving on.

Here we’re supposed to figure out where the bullet must have been shot from to leave a hole in the wall and a spatter of blood on the wallpaper.


Except some of the text says the bullet hole was above the fireplace, while the bullet hole in the set-up crime scene is to the left of the fireplace, about five feet up.

The machines for making comparison drag marks and footprints in a big sand pit is kind of fun.


Sigyn and I agree that some of the marks were footprints, but we don’t think the drag marks came from a body.

At the end of the exhibit are more slot punching machines.  We’re supposed to put the card in the ones that correspond with our interpretation of the evidence and punch out a rectangle, and then put the stencil over a message to reveal the final truth.

Uh, oh, based on the docent telling us that the plant was supposed to be Wisteria, the human female punched the wrong slot.  And then the right one.  We can see the message, and we were mostly correct, but there was a lot of this exhibit that was  misleading or just plain wrong.


There!  I’ve supplied a more appropriate secret message.

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I Didn’t Do It–But I’m Laughing

I have no reason to pick on Cathay Pacific Airlines, but I’ve been having a right good chuckle at their latest repainted airplane.

Friends, that is a whole bouquet of whoopsie daisies!

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Ummmm! Someone’s in Trooouuuuuble!

Yesterday, the human female came home to find an Ominous Note stuck to the front door.  The fine fellow from Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly had attempted to deliver a Registered Letter. 

Those things seldom mean anything good.

She fretted all last evening and all last night.  Obviously, she is in trouble, but how bad is it?  

The human male picked it up while he was running errands, and here it is.


Uh, oh.  It’s from the University.


Is she being served with a Cease and Desist order for her wardrobe choices and her bad jokes?

Has someone looked at her browser history?

Has someone discovered the scathing remarks I make on this blog–in an account I tied to her name?

Is she fired?



Back in March, the human female did something stupid at work and really pulled a ligament in her back.  She’s not been right since.  (Well, she’s never been quite right, but these days she stands up funny and makes faces if she has to heft more than twenty pounds.) She’s had medication and physical therapy and exercises and a whole string of visits to various doctors.  The University has picked up the tab for all of this, but it appears her days of coddling are over.  The doctors have decided that they’re done with her and she’s getting no disability rating.  No lollygagging on the state’s dime!

Hmmm.  I wonder… If I tell them that she often skips her exercises, will they make her pay back all the physiotherapy visits?  Let’s find out…

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Sometimes I Don’t Know My Own Strength

I don’t always plan my mischief down to the last detail.  Sometimes I will just leave a little vortex of chaos lying in wait someplace, all ready for one of the unwary humans to step in.  (I like to be surprised.)

I left such a spell in the kitchen-dining room yesterday.  I expected a dropped fork or a smear of jam on a borrowed library book or perhaps even a burned pork chop.  Nothing happened yesterday, but I have just heard the most enormous CRASH and some colorful language, so I think it may have been triggered!

Great Frigga’s Hairpins!  Be careful, my love, there is very great deal of broken glass in here!


And rather a lot of something wet…


If the human male’s mutterings are to be believed, he was trying to lift a twelve-pack of fizzy water up off the floor.  Somehow a bottle of beer (whose six pack was sitting next to the fizzy water) “hitched a ride” on the carton of water but then let go at a height of approximately four feet.

The destruction is most comprehensive.


Now the human male has some housekeeping and decontamination to do, all the while keeping curious felines out of the beery carnage.  I don’t know what he planned to do today, but whatever it was, he is not getting to it any time soon…

Ehehehehehe.  Good one.

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Gastronomy Week, Part V: But Ah, Me– I’m Such a Dunce! I Went and Ate Them All At Once.

Well, I didn’t, actually, but I’ve always thought that particular bit of Mr. Shel Silverstein’s doggerel was quite apt–for the human female, at least.  Don’t get in the way of her fork when she’s hitting her stride, is all I’m saying.

But still, I was looking through some old photos today, and I found a fair number that are of my beloved and me sampling various sorts of Midgardian cuisine.   Just so no one can accuse us of being picky eaters, I present this evidence:

We tried the new Vietnamese noodle house next to the place where we had the yummy sandwiches not too long ago.


You can’t really tell from the photo, but there are noodles under all of that lemongrass beef, pickled carrots and daikon, cilantro, peanuts, and crispy onions.

We also tried the spring rolls.


I was deeply suspicious of the dipping mixture, until I figured out it was peanut sauce and not chocolate pudding.  I’m adventurous, but shrimp and chocolate pudding?  That’s a hard “no.”

Sometimes, on the way home from work, we’ll all stop at a salad bar and make our own foliaceous concoctions.  Lettuce, spinach, peas, carrots, cucumber, peppers, apple, nuts, zucchini, mushrooms, artichokes, cranberries, croutons, spicy rice crackers, sunflower seeds, and one olive for each of us.


Plus that mini corn muffin there.   And an egg. 

On a colder day, we tried a pot pie from the same establishment.


I’m not a trained chef, but I don’t think it counts as pie if it’s just stew with a pastry hat.

The best burgers in town come from a little dive of a place owned by a nice Korean family.  I have written of this place and its confusing decor before.


Sigyn is excited because she found out she can request grilled onions.

Then there was the time the humans decided to make their own gyro sandwiches.  That requires the construction of a “meat brick” to shave slices off of, and they actually found a recipe for one!  This is an actual, foil-wrapped brick with a loaf of meat under it, getting good and dense.


I know. It seemed silly to me, too.

On hot days, when all we want is a little something, Sigyn and I like to get sushi.  We both like the California rolls and the Philly rolls.


But I loathe this green stuff with the white hot fury of a thousand suns.  Which, incidentally, is how it makes your sinuses feel if you eat it.  (Worst guacamole EVER.)

And, finally, a photo we took at the midsummer medieval concert we went to.  There’s always a little reception afterwards.  It is Sigyn’s contention that something like this counts as a serving of fruit.


Works for me.

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