Month: September 2016

Time For a Little Fun

I’m bored.  I’m bored of kitchen gadgets and BAMN and restaurant food and botany.  I want something new.  Some bit of mischief I haven’t done before.  Come on, Loki, surely you can come up with something good!  Just use your native cunning and go with what’s on hand.

Take this little packetty thing here.  I keep finding these all over.  Surely I can do something with it…

poprocks

A little creative writing, a bit of sticky paper, and behold!

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I’ll just leave this “candy” where the human female will find it, sit back, and wait for the fun…

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To Market, To Market, Part III: Not All Meetings Are Merry Ones (Sigyn Speaks)

“Do you live around here, Steve?  I haven’t seen you before.”

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“No, ma’am.  But I’m in the area for a while. I’m…um, hoping to catch up with an old friend.”

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“Oh, that’s nice.  Thank you again, so much, for helping me out!  I should really learn to check the forecast before I go for a walk.”

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“Yep.  Rain’s no so good for wicker baskets.  Though it seems it’s decided not to rain much after all.”

“Well, here we are.  It was good to meet you Steve.  Thank you again for your help, and I hope you have a good visit with your friend.”

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“Sigyn!  There you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were going out?  I’d have come with you to carry things.  And who’s this?”

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“Oh, Loki, hi!  You were busy and I didn’t want to bother you.  This is Steve.  He carried my basket and let me use his shield as an umbrella.”

“Did he?  Well,  much obliged, I’m sure.  But you know my weather spells are proof against anything–and didn’t I warn you not to talk to strangers?”

“Oh.  Sorry.  Bye, Steve!  Thanks again for everything!”

bye

“Come along in, dearest, before it starts raining again.  Let me show you what I’ve been working on…”

who-was-that

“And what kind of a name is ‘Steve‘?”

: )

To Market, To Market, Part II: A Helping Hand (Sigyn Speaks)

“Pardon me, ma’am.  Do you need some help?”

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“Oh, thank you!  I seem to be dropping everything today.”

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“There you go–all repacked.  May I carry this for you?”

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“Oh, thank you, but you’ve already helped tremendously.  I think I can manage.  I’m not going very far.”

“I don’t mind.  I’m headed that way myself.”

“Oh, then thank you!  You’re very kind.   Fisi, NOBAD hyena!  Give that back”

hey-thats-mine

“Oh, I am so sorry!  Fisi’s usually so much better behaved. I can’t think what’s got into–”

“It’s all right, ma’am.  Can’t hurt this old thing.  Nothing damages vibranium, not even hyena teeth.  See?  Not a scratch.”

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“Oh, I am so sorry!  Really, you’ve done so much! I can take it from here.”

“No trouble.  Besides.  It looks like it is about to start pouring and my shield makes a pretty good umbrella.”

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“Again, thank you.  Oh, my name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

“Steve.  Pleased to meet you.”

(to be continued…)

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To Market, To Market (Sigyn Speaks)

It’s a lovely day, nice and cool, so I am volunteering to walk to the market for a few odds and ends.  Fisi, would you like to come too?  Loki is busy working on something and would just as soon not be disturbed.  If you come with me, he won’t worry for my safety.

What a good hyena! You’re such a big help!

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Humpty tum, humpty tum.

And home we go, jiggidy jig!

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Gracious!  I didn’t mean to buy so much, but I can never resist a shiny apple.

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Oh, no!  I seem to be leaving a trail!  I’m glad it wasn’t the apples!  I’d better pick it all up quickly.   The lovely day is suddenly looking glowery and boomy and it’s starting to sprinkle!

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“Pardon me, ma’am.  Do you need some help?”

need-help

(to be continued)

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The Great Bog Adventure, Part V: Work Begets…More Work

It seems as if ages have passed since Sigyn and I accompanied the human female on her botanical expedition to the bog in the next county over.  We got muddy and collected a whole fat press full of plants, Sigyn had a wonderful time, and I got to laugh at the human female when she got her boots stuck in the muck and almost fell in.  I thought that was an end of it.

Apparently not.  The human female spent several long evenings identifying plants, and today she and another botanist are having what she calls a “workshop” with some of her fellow-bog-trotters, teaching them some identification skills.

The visitors have a preliminary plant list, made from tentative identifications in the field.

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The”experts” are supposed to fill in the holes and answer some of the questions.  (The idea of the human female as an “expert” anything makes me laugh, but I suppose she does know a thing or two about plants.)

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Sigyn has the list of grasses and grass-like plants.  The human female can identify those, but her colleague is better.

No, the human female has identified all the things with showy flowers.  Now she is making her students key out a few of them as practice.

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Microscope? Check.  Plant sample?  Check.  Book with keys?  Check.  Obscure botanical shorthand?  Check.

Sleipnir’s monstrous farrier bill!   She is making them work hard!  It’s as if she thinks she can cram a whole semester’s worth of botany into their poor heads in one morning by making them look at “glandular teeth on the inner sepals,” whatever that means.

The human female says that little plant is something called a Hypericum.   She also said that one of the other plants was a different Hypericum.  But ehehehehe!  She was WRONG!  Now she has to admit to everyone that she can’t tell  johnnywart from flicks.

What’s this?   The students, who are supposed to have duplicates of all the plants for their club collection,  have brought some plants that the human female doesn’t have!  (I guess the collecting at the bog wasn’t as organized as she thought.)  So now the human female has to identify things on the spot.  Can she do it?

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This one’s not so difficult.  It is a little, carnivorous blabberwort, and there just aren’t that many to choose from.

This one might be a little tougher.  Idunn’s little apples!  The human female is counting how many little thread-like segments are on each of the frothy leaves.  (Not sure how that’s going to help. She can only go as far as five.)

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All this counting and peering into microscopes.  (shudder.) It is much too much like work.  Have you had enough keying for one day, Sigyn?  Let’s leave all the plant nerds and go get some lunch.

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The Humans Have Odd Friends, Part III: Dessert!

That was wonderful!  Sigyn and I took one of those little spacecrafts out for a test flight.  They’re tiny, but so fast, and so responsive!  The controls are easy to master, too.  Why do not the boring humans I live with have craft such as these?  Oh, right.  Because they’re DULL.

Ah!  See, Sigyn, as I promised–we have returned in time to sample dessert.  I approve of these small candies.

greenmm

They’re definitely a good color.  They should all have little L’s, though, and not those silly m’s.

Oooh, Sigyn–look over there!  Sleipnir’s feedbag–what an array of tempting sweets!  I see pie and cookies and more cookies and some clever candy mice.

treat-tray-mice

(munch, munch)  I am glad now we eschewed the main courses–more room for pie!  Sigyn, my petal, aren’t you going to sample any?

Oh.  Should have known.  Too busy making friends with the mice.  You can cuddle them here, dearest, but you cannot bring them home with us.  They would just scurry under the furniture and the feline would be up all night howling after them.  You and I are perfection, of course, but the human female needs all the beauty sleep she can get.

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The Humans Have Odd Friends, Part II: I Can’t Explain Any of This

The humans’ friends seem like such normal people when you meet them, but their house is a strange and baffling place.

Sigyn and I have made it past the Buc-ee shrine and have been introduced to one of the other guests.

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Don’t look, Sigyn!  He isn’t wearing any pants.  He seems to want to challenge me to a contest of strength.  Though he no doubt outweighs me by bunches upon tons of kilos, his extensive scarring leads me to believe that he is not invulnerable and that I could best him in single combat.  Yes, by Volstagg’s beard crumbs, I think I would triumph over this overgrown diaper baby with ease.

It is, however, rude to battle other invited guests at a dinner party. Later, Fat Boy.  You and me. Outside.

What’s this?   Parked in the corner of the parlor room are a pair of small, sleek spacecraft.

gameship1

The controls look simple enough, and despite what Thor says of me, I do know how to pilot a vessel. The ignition switch should be…here

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We have power!  Come, my love, let us fly from this confusing place!

What’s that?  Dinner is served?  Oh, dinner is all very well, I suppose, but do you really want to miss out on taking one of these for a quick aerial lap of the neighborhood?  All aboard, Sigyn!  We could cover quite a bit of territory while the humans are stuffing their gullets.   I promise to have you back by dessert!

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The Humans Have Odd Friends, Part I: It’s That Rodent Again

To put it kindly, the humans know some odd people.  Tonight we have been invited to dine with a few of them.  Sigyn is a bit apprehensive because they have a rather enormous canine, but I have promised to protect her.

Ah.  These friends would appear to be devotees of the cult of the Beaver God, the one known as Buc-ee.  They have set up a shrine with votive images.

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Apparently soft altar furnishings are acceptable.

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This Buc-ee is evidently a capricious god, one who invites his followers to challenge him to pit their bravery and luck against his might in a ritual known as a Farkel®.

Perhaps I should take a page from his book and increase my fame by allowing puny mortals to challenge me?  Not that any of them could best me at anything!  Not at magic, not at feats of arms, not in contests of wit or cunning.  No, while word would quickly spread that I am invincible, unless I were to throw a few of the matches and pretend to be less than I am, I am afraid that the Midgardians would perceive it as a cruel and unfeeling pastime and turn against me. (No one likes to be set up to fail.)

Best, then continue as I have and seek to work my way into absolute rule* in subtler ways.

Ones that do not involve plush simulacra of my noble physique.

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*I hear that the Provost position at the University is coming vacant.  That might be a good next step…

 

 

Of Felines and Stabbiness

This is an image of the humans’ superannuated feline.  Look closely.  She is hiding.

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She is not very bright.

The human female says that lately the feline has not been herself.  Really?  How can you tell?  The animal’s default setting is “semi-sentient sofa cushion.”

But here we are at the veterinarian anyway.

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I am staying well clear of the beast, because she has a habit of transmogrifying into a peeing, pooping, cat-shaped demon whenever she is brought here.  I am a supervillain– I know evil when I see it.

Fenrir’s fleacollar!  The animal’s blood sugar is 520!  Actually,  I do not know what that signifies, but the human female and the doctor both seem quite concerned.

Ah.  It appears that the feline will have to have medicine.  Or, should I say–a fourth medicine.  She already has three–two which are rubbed into her ears and one which is sprinkled on her food.  Oh, wait.  That food is prescription, so make that five.

(later)   We have now been to the apothecary to purchase the means to administer the medicine.

It was an amusing trip.  The human female is ill herself at present, and she must have had the aspect of an inebriate or addict as she presented her hollow-eyed, swaying self at the service window (after waiting for the woman ahead of her to roll the records from four insurance plans into one.)  She had to invent a birthdate for the feline and endure the clerk’s prattling about his mother’s diabetic canine.  It was all going well, however, until I whispered in his ear and he got a funny look on his face– and told her to go wait on a bench.  So she waited.  And waited.  I can only presume that at my suggestion he ran her name and/or her haggard visage through some database and discovered that she is not to be trusted with pointy things.

At last the clerk decided to let her make her purchase.  That is when the device that reads the plastic money-chits decided not to read hers.  Multiple times.  Then it grudgingly did read it, but the printer device ran out of paper just as it was printing a record of the transaction.

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You can see that she had to wait some more while additional paper was found, just so that last bit could be printed out and stapled on.

So here we are, with some gloriously sleek, pointy weapons syringes.

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Lots and lots of them.

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Soooo many that I bet the human female won’t miss a few.  Hmmm.  Where can I hide some stabby things where they will produce the most humorous and painful results?  Sock drawer?  Car glove-box?  I shall have to contemplate my options.

In the meantime, while I am sorry that the feline is ill, I will greatly enjoy watching the humans catch her twice a day and try to employ these needles unscathed.  It will be interesting to see who is most traumatized…

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