Month: April 2015

Impressions of a throne

The human female does have some garden plants she hasn’t managed to kill. Take, for example, this bed of irises.


For one week in April, it resembles a work by the Midgardian painter Monet. (I saw his work in a book and was intrigued. Frigga would adore Impressionist art, Odin would dismiss it as unrealistic, and Thor… That boor Thor would ask if were time for lunch yet.)


Each velvety blossom lasts but a single day. What a fleeting perch for my beloved!

But royal purple is a fitting throne indeed for the rightful King of Asgard.


Michief Update

This week is definitely more harried than last, thanks in no small part to my efforts. Mischief Level: 7

1. The human female’s teaching labs continue to vacillate between hot and cold. Right now they’re hot, the temperature set-point having been overridden somehow to allow rooms warm enough to kill starfish in the tanks. Killing marine life was *not* my intent. It’s just fun to see instructors sweat.

2. One of the Big Vendors With Whom the Female Spends Many Dollars drew up a nice little quote on some scientific equipment she’d like to buy. It was due on a tight deadline. I jiggled his hand and had it show up with someone else’s name and address in the Bill To and Ship To fields. Oopsie. Ehehehehehe.

3. I’ve arranged for the building’s only elevator to be down for repairs precisely when the human female and her staff want to bring in all the supplies for summer classes.

4. The cat’s voice lessons are really starting to bear fruit. The feline’s range, vibrato, and dynamics are all wonderfully expanded. Performances at 11:15 p.m., 2:35 a.m., and 4:45 a.m. daily. Admission free!

5. The human female had to give a talk on a botanical subject yesterday. I improved her presentation with numerous images of Sigyn and myself, then addled her notes and threw in some extra slides so that her talk went on forever and she made a right idiot out of herself. (I began by disabling the Presenter View option so she couldn’t find her notes, but she figured out a workaround, the wench.)

6. There is a big nature science day “thing” in town this coming weekend, with field trips and walks and talks and booths and activities for the younglings. I’ve ordered rain.

7. I convinced all of the local grocery stores to cease carrying the humans’ favorite flavor of fizzy water, and their favorite salsa has been discontinued by the manufacturer altogether. (It was mild. Who eats mild? Wusses.)

8. The humans are expecting a few more rounds of out of town company. That’s always good for some stress. If she’d just quit being such a sloven, the female wouldn’t have to scramble so much when someone wants to visit.

The copier’s been behaving well. Must go see to that…

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A soup quandary*

On the one hand, it’s always amusing when a tweak of mine means the human female ruins dinner.

On the other hand, this assemblage looks as if it could turn into something I might actually want to eat.


On the one hand, I have done rotten produce before and I don’t like to repeat myself, but I could certainly arrange a little freezer burn on the beef ribs…

On the other hand, I sort of want to see how she’s going to pull off using Chinese noodles and Italian tomato paste.

What to do, what to do?

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*Soup Quandary is a great band name.

Spring on campus

The human female says that when the University campus was built there was nothing here except cotton fields. How boring! Now there are buildings and parking lots and non-cottony plants. Still boring.

But boring is what the human female does best! She has dragged Sigyn out to look at the campus plants. I’m along to make sure Sigyn comes to no harm and does not get lost. (This campus is so vast that it would be very easy to take a wrong turn and wander for days.)

Do you know how you can tell when it is spring in Central Texas? The leaves all turn brown and fall from the trees! Truly! The live oaks keep their leaves all winter and then abandon them just in time to grow new ones. Silly backwards plants. I mean, just look at this drift of fallen leaves and catkins. In April!


Sigyn thinks they’re fun and crunchy to jump in. I think they’re itchy and a little sneezy.

All right. Moving on. This plant is less itchy and sneezy, more flowery and pokey. I have a proposition for you. I will wager you anything you care to name— Drop Sigyn anywhere in the world, and within five minutes she will have found a holly to sit in.


The human female says it’s Burford Holly and that this one is a girl. Burford is a terrible name for a girl.

This plant has a name I won’t even try to pronounce. The flowers smell good, though. A bit citrus-y.


Sigyn, what are you doing up there?


Ah. "Reveling." This is what reveling looks like.


Bleurgh! Sigyn and I disagree about these purple Texas mountain-laurel flowers. She likes the smell. I most emphatically do not. My nose is frankly offended by their cloying fake-grape aroma. Sigyn finds them "yummy."


You enjoy the purple soap-candle-cheap-soft-drink blossoms all you want, dearest. I’ll be over there waiting for you. Waaaaay over there.


Let’s end our little gallivant around campus with something we can agree on. Do you like this shrub, Sigyn? Do you know, I do too! It is most…exuberant… in its profusion of pinkness.


But it is not the pinkness I admire. (I do not "do" pink.) It is the bold refusal to abide by the rules. The flowers are supposed to have five petals, but it makes flowers with six or even seven if it jolly well feels like it. It also thumbs its Rosaceous nose at deer and rabbits, remaining persistently un-nibbled. Bees like it, though, so Sigyn, be sure any blossom you smell is uninhabited before putting your pretty little nose in.

Had enough landscaping for one afternoon, Sigyn? Me too. Let us repair to the human female’s office. l believe there is a very important report on her desk that is just begging to have all of its tables and figures rearranged before it goes to the Division Head.

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Bzzzt! Wheeeeeeennnnnnnnnn!

The young Midgardian whose party I have taken over has received some interesting gifts. Chief among them is a set of electric components with which one can build any number of gadgets and tinkerments.


I am quite adept at circuitry. Such a tantalizing array of potential mayhem is irresistible.


The kit has come with a booklet containing instructions for various projects. I think… let me see… We shall build THIS ONE!


We shall need these two pieces, plus that thingummy over there. No, the other one.


The Ticking Screecher is complete!


Sigyn, light of my life, you might want to cover your ears, or better yet, let us leave the vicinity, for I have added a special, magical, Loki touch to this device.

Once activated, it will never, ever shut off, even should the batteries be removed…

Ehehehehehehe! Oh, dear me—look at the time! Off we go!

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Loki, God of Party-crashers

Midgardian small ones grow up so quickly. But then again, their lives are so short, that I suppose they must rush. They also take great note of the anniversaries of their entering the world. Such a fuss for a swarm of mayflies.

The small son of the human female’s knittery friend is having a birthday today. Sigyn would like to attend, since the knittery friend has been kind to her. She also wants me to go with her, since there will be a number of people there and she is feeling a bit shy. Dearest, must we? The mortals are driving to attend the festivities, and two hours cooped up in the car with their nattering and execrable taste in music would be enough to drive a saint to murder, and I am no saint.

Sigyn has been known to become a little queasy when we teleport. Thus, a compromise between the slow, nattering, strangling way and and the fast, nauseated Sigyn way.


Um, my sweetling, while I commend and admire your bravery, would it not be better for you to join me in the cockpit?


<later> We encountered some turbulence on the way here, but it was still better than either alternative. We have arrived, so now the party can commence!

The knittery friend has created a themed cake for the birthday child. I have improved it with my presence. Neither small game-piece monsters nor six year old Midgardians are half so terrifying as Loki!


<still later> The Midgardians and their boardgames! They seem to play them at every opportunity. Today’s boxed chaos is called "Rhino Hero."


Hero? Snort! Rhinos are notoriously weak-minded, and it was the work of a moment to suborn him to my cause. Welcome, Caped Ceratomorph!

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