I’m Sure You’ve All Been Wondering

You’d have to be living under a bushel basket not to have been asked this a hundred times in recent days.  It’s a topic monopolizing the news, most of the blogs, and all the workplace talk. Heated discussions erupt at the drop of a hat.  It’s the most important decision ever:

What are you going as for Halloween?

Sigyn has outdone herself this year.

With her toga, sandals, bow, and doggish companion, she is the spitting image of the Midgardian deity Diana, Goddess of the Hunt.

You are beautiful, darling, and my goddess any day of the year.

Sigyn is going to be quite surprised to see my get-up.  You see, after Sigyn and I talked over the whole “Steve” business, I paid the All-American Man With a Plan a little visit, just to prove there are were no hard feelings.

Perhaps, Sigyn, you prefer your new companion, given that you seem to like him so much.

Oh, this is much better. Costume’s a bit much… so tight. But the confidence, I can feel the righteousness surging. Hey, you wanna have a rousing discussion about truth, honor, patriotism? God bless America…

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Time For the Annual Cucurbicide

Sigyn and I did not carve pumpkins last year.  We were too busy and couldn’t think of anything to top the previous year’s perforated pepos.  This year, we feel the urge to do a little gourd-gouging.

There are some intriguing prospects at the market.  Yes, dearest, that is a fine pumpkin!

But it’s a bit…big.  I think you would probably be still be carving next Halloween.

Now this one looks properly hideous and ghoulish.

Whack in a couple of eye-holes in this pumpy lumpkin and bam!  Instant Quasimodo.

The human female however, is in no mood to deal with vast quantities of pumpkin guts and has procured us somewhat smaller vegetable specimens, as well as paper for planning our designs.  Sigyn has something cheerful in mind.

I, of course, am in the mood for something a little more frightening.  I am never without at least one instrument of stabbiness secreted about my person…

…so we are all set.  Let the pumpkin perforating begin!

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part V: A Visit to the Spice Merchant

Our last stop today is the spice merchant the humans are fond of visiting.  Sigyn and I have been here before.

Sigyn is already thinking about holiday baking.  To that end, she is investigating the different types of cinnamon.   There area the traditional cinnamon sticks…

…and the other cinnamon sticks…

…and the really good stuff.  Careful, beloved!  If you fall in, they will probably not let us come back.

There are other delights as well, though I think the name on this one is made up.

Sigyn is fond of cherries in any form, so I think I will buy her a jar.  I’m just not letting her near the empty jars, because, well, we know what happens when Sigyn meets glassware.

No! Sigyn! Stop.  Come away from the jars, dearest.  Um…Salt!  I have an urgent need to look at the, uh, salt on the other side of the store.

Look at all the salt!  White salt. Gray salt.  Pink salt!

The salesperson at the counter says she has been dealing with crazy customers today,  even before the human female came in. I think I will continue the fun by asking her if she has any organic, gluten-free, vegan, locally-produced Himalayan sea salt.  Just to watch her eye twitch.

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part IV: I Could Do A Lot With The Contents of This Place

We have moved on to a–to use the human female’s stupid word–“ginormous” art supply store.  Sigyn is quite artistic, and she is entranced by the aisles and aisles of paints, pens, pencils, paper, and other goods, some of which do not begin with the letter P.  The human  female and the blue-haired god-daughter are grabbing handfuls of things and moaning over the expensive colored pencils sets and tubes of watercolors.

Pffft!  Anyone can make scribbles, but it takes a real mastermind to make good mischief.   Just thinking about what I could do with the contents of these jars is making me hyperventilate a bit…

Who knew that GLITTER came in so many wonderful colors?  I even like that word,”Glitter.”  Glitter.  Glitterrrrrrr.   I think I’ll pick two or three colors and liven up the human females sock drawer, backpack, and needlework tote…

It appears that the store has a fair number of toys and trinkets, in addition to canvas, gesso, and sketchbooks.  Sigyn has left the gold leaf and bone folders and made the acquaintance of some friendly mice.

Careful, love.  I thik that one on the right may be an R.O.U.S. and not an actual mouse.  And that pumpkin-headed fellow does not look as if he has your best interests at heart.

This fellow looks a little friendlier.

Let us take him home and introduce him to the human female’s garden…

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part III: Pens and Pastry

You would think that the humans had eaten as much as they possibly could, but no! The human female and the blue-haired god-daughter have decided to take advantage of this rare trip to the Big City to the South to try out a highly-touted pastry shop.  Let us join them, Sigyn.  There is always room for puff pastry.

It’s a very fancy, Frenchy bakery.  Even the little buildings on the tray have teeny little French signs.

The human female, while tempted by the almond cake with apricots or pears, has opted for something she calls “stroodle.”  That sounds like plumbing backing up!

Oh, I see.  It’s just fancy apple pie.  Sigyn, you’ll like that.  (I am over being jealous of apple cake and apple-cake makers.  Mostly.)

The blue-haired god-daughter is endeavoring to eat a cream puff roughly the size of her fist.  It’s very squishy.

I don’t know whether to help her eat it or to just flop on it and have a bit of a postprandial nap.

The human male and the friends have ended up down the street in the premises of the Purveyor of Pens and we have now joined them. The human male is looking for inks and the female is just poking.

I am still looking for the perfect green ink.

Sigyn, of course, wants red.

Ehehehehehe!   Some of the ink and pen-cleaner labels are miniature works of art.

Volstagg’s triple chin!  Look!  The friendly proprietors have set out pizza, cake, and some wildly decorated doughnuts!

The females could have skipped the pastry and had their sugar fix here!  (But breakfast cereal on a doughnut?!  Who does that?)

Ehehehehe–the human female has tried a cute little fountain pen–and I made it leak on her!  Yes, we’ve been here before, and yes, the human female has come away with inky fingers before, but it still makes me giggle every time.

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part II: Feasting and Phantasms

It appears that the humans are not going to be doing anything new today.  We had been to the murderous bookstore before, and we are eating at a restaurant at which we have previously dined. The human female is tediously predictable and has ordered the same meal as she had before. The male, however, is eating one bao full of curry and one full of something called “pork katsu.”  The Knittery Friend is having duck…  And of course, we have the fries with the Korean beefy bits.  They are imperative!

Sigyn just can’t wait to dive right in.  (But then, she likes cilantro more than I do…)  This really is fusion food–aspects of cuisine from various parts of Midgard.  I wonder what Midgardian-Asgardian fusion food would be like?  Probably awful–roast venison with peanut butter.  Mead-and-ice cream floats.  <shudder>  Let us contemplate this no further.

Dessert!  We have not had dessert here before, but the Knittery Friend has ordered some.  What on Midgard is this?

Nibble, nibble, NOM NOM NOM.  This is the same poofy dough, fried and drizzle-dusted with honey, cinnamon, and sugar.  And something vaguely salty, which makes me want to eat the entire order.  The way the human female is shoveling them in, though–I’m going to have to fight her for them!

Time to waddle to our next destination.   By Thor’s hefty hangovers!  What vile apparition is this?  I have not imbibed a drop today, but I seem to be having hallucinations nonetheless. Preposterous pink pachyderms!  No! Sigyn!  Come back–it can’t possibly be safe.

Yes, I see now that it is street “art.”  No, I will not sit on it with you. It is beneath my dignity.  This one’s all yours.

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part I: Hurtful Books

Knowing that if they do not seize the opportunity to go now they will not get to go anywhere until the holidays, the humans have gathered up the blue-haired god-daughter and set out for the Big City to the South.  Sigyn and I have tagged along, as such trips usually involve interesting things to see, as well as tasty edibles.

We only have part of a single day–a friend will medicate the aged feline but the humans do not want to presume upon his kindness overmuch–so we must be methodical in our Pursuit of Fun.  First stop:  a bookstore.   This is good.  I approve of books.  Most books in Asgard are full of sagas, tedious if they are about other people and not oneself, so I relish the chance to peruse Midgardian bookstores, which are full of all sorts of things.

This particular establishment is devoted to the peculiar Midgardian penchant for reading about Bad Things People Do and How They Do or Don’t Get Caught.  I have been here before.  It is a good place to come for inspiration!  Hmmm.  This might work on the botanically-inclined human female…

So many works!  However shall I choose?

Sigyn, are you doing all right?  Sometimes she is a bit disturbed by the titles and cover art.

I agree, Sigyn–the cheery yellow spine does make that title even more macabre.

Oh, now this looks good!

But what the…?  Great Frigga’s hairpins!   Can’t I go anywhere without being reminded of my wretched family?

Ugh!  That my monomaniacal, monocular father and my oafish ersatz-sibling also merit volumes robs me of all the pleasure of having a book of my own.  I’m switching shelves.

Augh!  More over here!  My damn family is everywhere!

Let me try the other side of the shop.  This looks promising!   I have read some tales by this Gaiman fellow.  The inside of his head is a delightfully spooky place.

Oh, but this doesn’t bode well.  Let us hope that bookstore-browsing is not a reliable form of augury.  How worried should I be?

Hmmm, there is a bird on the cover.  Perhaps it deals with the downfall of Odin!  Yes, that is a much more cheerful thought!   It is a raven and Odin’s days are numbered!

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Flowers Anyway

What a difference a day makes!  Sigyn and I had a long talk.  She said I was a “silly billy” for worrying that she was falling for Steve.  “Relieved” doesn’t begin to cover it!  And she liked my poem!  (The limerick, not the “burple” one.)

My research into the art of wooing suggests that flowers are a necessity in romance.  I don’t need them for making up anymore, but my beloved deserves flowers every day.

I don’t have anything fancier than this lab flask to put them in, but they’re still pretty.  Come here, my sweet, and see what I have for you!

They’re not red, but I hope you like them.

Let’s never quarrel again.

I love you, sweetie.

That’s my girl!

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What’s This? (Sigyn Speaks)

Where has Loki gone?  Sigh. I honestly don’t know if I want to find him or not.  Every time we try to talk lately, it ends in sniffles on my part and shoutiness on his.

Well, I guess he was here at some point.

What a mess!  What’s he been up to?

Huh.  Looks like he was writing me a note.

Well, I like that!  He couldn’t even be bothered to spell my name correctly!  And is he sorry or not?

Hee hee hee.  Oh, Loki, what were you planning to rhyme with “purple“?

Bet?  What bet? Steve is betting on something?

Is THAT it?  That’s what’s been bothering Loki?  He thinks I like Steve better than him? Silly Loki!  As if I could be swayed by a big smile and some cake.  After all we have been through together, does he still not get that I like my men like I like my chocolate?  Dark, smooth, bitter, and just a little sweet does it for me every time!

Where is my frowny Frost Giant?  I think someone needs a hug!

: )

The Pen is Mightier Than…Nothing, Apparently

So, the candy was a bust, with no one happy but Yelp.  My Anti-Steve campaign hasn’t borne fruit yet.  Maybe it’s time to use my words.  Hmm. That might work.  I’m Silvertongue, but I’m not bad on paper, either. I will write Sigyn a letter.  I’ll be able to get all the words right and she’ll be sure to understand.

Paper?  Check.  Non-stripey-starry pen?  Check.

Odin’s Eyepatch!  That makes me sound so… needy.

Well…  I’m sorry we’re on the outs.  And I’m sorry I tumped over that thrice-blasted apple cake.  But I’m not sorry to be fighting for the woman I love.

And I’m sorry I’m so wrought up that I mis-wrote her very name.   Unnnnngh.

Please… what?  Tell Steve to go chase himself?  Promise not to ever, ever leave me?  Forgive me for the candy debacle and the ruined cake?  Grrrrr.  This won’t do.

And that’s even worse.  “Purple,” Loki?  Is that the best you can do?!  What do you hope to rhyme that with, huh?  “Burple”?  Yeah, that’s gonna win her back.

Grrrrr.  Oh!  I know what’s wrong!  How could I write anything properly with the wrong color ink?  A green pen–that’s what I need!  I shall fetch one and try again.

Better.

I give up.

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