Day: October 8, 2015

I Do Love a Mystery Box!

The human female has received a mysterious box in the mail.  Actually, it’s not completely mysterious, because she knows who it’s from, but she has no clue what’s inside.  Come on, Sigyn, let’s help her open it!

aboxabox

Whatever is in here, it’s certainly well-packed.  Let us dig in!

unpacking1

It would be easy to get sidetracked by the fun bubblewrap, but I want to know what’s inside!

The sender said it was something they’d had on hand for a while.  Somehow I believe it.

unpacking2

Sigyn is enamored of the shiny red poinsettias, but I want to know what’s inside!

unpacking3

Aaauugh!  Sigyn has been startled and frightened by the toothy skull on the back cover.  What manner of book is this?

Ah.  Now it makes sense.  It’s an anthropology book!  Fascinating.  See, Sigyn?  If it’s Science, it’s not scary.

cover

You know, this poor fellow’s grin is on the whole a little bit less gruesome than the human female’s.  Let’s have a look inside this tome.

skullspread

More skulls!  This is a GREAT book to read right before the upcoming Feast of All Hallows.  I’m looking at Homo neanderthalensis.  The heavy bone structure and low brow make me think that my block of a “brother,” Thor, and a number of other Asgardians I can think of might have a bit of ancient  Midgardian DNA lurking in the gene pool.

Sigyn is studying Cro-Magnon Man.  Evidently that particular hominid could shoot laser beams out of his eyes.  I imagine that gave him a slight competitive edge…

Ah.  Now it’s getting really good:  weapons.

stonetools

I’ve got the block something like Sigyn’s willow leaf point was chipped from.  Crude weapons, but effective.  Kind of like Mjolnir.  I tell you, there really is something to this caveman/ Odinson connection.  So we’re up to tools, what’s next in the annals of mortal accomplishments?

petroglyphs

Ah.  Petroglyphs.  Sigyn is enthralled by the giraffe from Northern Africa.  I think these cattle from Europe bear a striking resemblance to local barbecue restaurant signs and to the heraldic device of that other University down the road.  Some things don’t change.

I can tell the human female is really going to enjoy reading this book, though I predict she  will become even more insufferable.  She brags about being able to trace her lineage to some fellow named Charlemagne.  Now I am willing to wager that she’ll start name dropping much farther back down the family tree.

Sigyn, let us leave her to peruse this magnificent and unexpected very late (or perhaps very early!) Yule gift.  One final peep.  Look, Sigyn, it’s a stone tool from a place called Ethiopia, one of the very oldest known, some 2.3 million years.

stonetool2

But since I know the human female has a scar from where a fellow five-year-old lobbed a rock* at her noggin back in the Sandbox Era, I think we can safely say that there hasn’t exactly been a lot of progress in some areas of human development.

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Sigyn, You Cannot Save Them All

Sigyn, being tender-hearted, was more than a bit traumatized yesterday by my decapitation and ingestion of the zoological cookies.  I apologized profusely and tried to explain that they are, in fact, baked goods and (probably) not truly living creatures.  I have been forgiven, but she remains unconvinced.  She could scarcely sleep last night, worrying about the hundreds of other little animals out there,  imprisoned in brightly colored bags and boxes and in imminent danger of gastronomical extinction.

So here she and I are at the market today, with the contents of her piggy bank (plus the human female’s household cash stash) to rescue as many animals as possible. We have one cart full and have started on a second.

What?!  Sigyn is crying in distress!  What is wrong my love?  What have you found?

circuscookies

Oh, sweetheart, no.  Shhhh!  Calm down.  Those are not little animals cruelly smothered in polka-dot costumes and made to perform tricks for a jaded public’s amusement.  No, I promise, they can breathe.  Or rather, they don’t breathe, but only because they’re not alive.  Ack!  No! I don’t mean they’re dead!  I mean they were not/are not/ will never be living creatures.  They are cookies.  With frosting.  And sprinkles.

Great Frigga’s hairpins.  Let us go home.  Let us just pay for the cookies in the cart and call it a day. Tomorrow I will teach you about cookie cutters and dough molds.

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