Month: January 2020

‘Tis a Mystery

The humans like to cook, and I will be the first to admit that they have an enviable collection of herbs and spices.  It takes up whole double cupboard, and it’s positively crammed.  I never get tired of watching them rummage to find the basil (which I hide on a regular basis) or the little tin of hot Hungarian paprika which, despite its being bright red, is surprisingly easy to lose in there.  It is extra-amusing when things fall out during this fossicking process, which they often do.  Picking spice jars out of the dish drainer is a common occurrence, and fun even if they do not break.

Crash!  There goes something now!  Let us go investigate.

Ehehehe!  Looks like today it was the lavender sugar that decided to take a header out of the cupboard.  I remember when she made that last year.


Well, look here.  It is a breaky day after all!  The lid is cracked beyond help.  I did better than I thought, when I perched the jar so precariously.

In its tumble into ruin, it landed most ungently on the small slow-cooker that the human female uses to make her special, organic, super-lumpy oatmeal.  And woe is her!  It has broken a fair-sized piece out of the handle.


Out of the bottom of the handle.  I could tell you how I managed to make it happen, but where’s the fun in that?

All hail, Loki, god of Physics Do Not Apply to Me.

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Great Frigga’s Corset! πόσο αυτοί οι άνθρωποι πρόκειται να φάνε ?!

Munch, chat, munch, chat, make kitchen mess, munch, clean up kitchen mess, chat.  The humans have been snacking all day.  They never got around to playing games, or inking up all the fountain pens, or watching a movie, or reading a book to the littles.  Nope, nope, nope.

Aha!  This is more like it!  After so much inactivity, they have energized themselves to go DO something!  What will it be?  A walk in the neighborhood?  Gaming with friends.  You’d think so, wouldn’t you?  But, no!

They are going out to eat.

There is a Greek Restaurant that the Knittery Friend’s family says is pretty good.  The human female, having once dated someone of an Attic persuasion, knows a thing or two about Greek cuisine, and I, being a god, have been invited to more than one banquet on Olympus, so let’s just say that judgment is being reserved…

Here’s the menu.

olive oil menu cover

I find the quotes worrisome…

There appears to be a selection of appetizers.

olive oil appetizers

Sigyn is not a fan of eating octopi (except the candy sort), because they are smart, so we may have to try something else.

Hmm.  What to choose, what to choose?  Pastitsio is nice, if done well.

olive oil menu inside

I am considering ordering the Spinach, Walnut, and Raspberry salad for the human female, just so I can see her swell up and wheeze.

There’s a separate menu of specials.

olilve oil pecan stuff looks good

I sincerely hope that “Half-baked Lemon Chicken” is a typo, or Salmonella, here we come.

The human male has ordered some fried calamari for the table.

olive oil calamari

Sigyn adores calamari.  I’ve convinced her that calamari is a type of squash so she won’t feel bad about enjoying it.  No one clue her in, all right?

Here is the human female’s chicken gyro.  She is deducting five points for the onions being raw, rather than grilled, as advertised.

olive oil chickn gyro

I am adding five points for the fun of watching the human female deconstruct her meal to pick them out.

The “rice casserole” side dish is simply rice and spinach with a little onion.  I’m not sure I trust it.

olive oil rice casserole

Fortunately, it tastes better than it looks.

The Knittery Friend has ordered the stuffed grape leaves.  Usually, these are dainty little morsels.

olive oil dolmades

Λένε ότι όλα είναι μεγαλύτερα στο Τέξας και δεν αστείο!

The human female has hoovered all of hers, but the Knittery Friend is going home with round, green leftovers.


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That’s the Way the Cookie… Well, You Know

Despite the fact that we just ate, the human female and her Knittery Friend are making what else?  More food!  They are attempting the cookies the human female never got around to making over Yule.

By Volstagg’s straining tunic-lacings!  Sigyn, she is making those cookies we liked so much and helped her with that time! You know, the ones with the cranberries and smish-smashios and the shocking amounts of butter.

She is inordinately proud of these, despite the fact that she didn’t invent the recipe.  I call it baking hubris.  And  you know what they say about hubris:  Comeuppances have a nasty habit of sneaking up to bite you in the fundament.  Fundament-biting happening in 3…2…1…

broken cookies

Aww.  Will you look at that?   The human female is used to cookie sheets with sides, and the Knittery Friend’s sheets don’t have them.  The human female bobbled the landing and there were significant casualties.

Let us observe a moment of silence for the wasted delicacies.

surviving cookies

I think I will go …munch, munch… comfort the survivors.

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A Quick Visit to the Knittery Friend

The humans are going to visit the Knittery Friend and her kin in the Big City to the South.  They do this because they didn’t see one another over Yule and because children grow up so quickly and eternal friendship, blah, blah, blah.

We all know it’s because the Knittery Friend bakes.

So… The not-yet-delivered Yule parcels are packed and ready to take.

diggingintothe prezzies

Taffy Cat is certain that the Knittery Friend must be receiving catnip mousies and has very selflessly offered to do quality control.  Stand down, foul feline!  You had two mice of your own at Yule and we all  know that they both vanished not five minutes later.  If you cannot keep track of your own toys, do not go bothering someone else’s. 

On the other hand, if you wish to a) annoy the human female and b) fill up all the gift bags with cat hair, be my guest.

(later)  We are here.  Hug, hug.  Yack, yack.  The highly mobile children, I observe, are almost of an age to be suborned into my army.  I shall have to keep my eye on them…

Ah!  Time for presents.  One of the gifts  is this bottle of ink, for the Knittery Friend is also a lover of fountain pens.

ink with cryptic label

I count five fonts on that box.  Only three are legible, none of which is the name or color of the ink.   Try plugging those squiggles into Google Translate!  But hmmm…. My Loki Sense tells me that there is green ink in that box.

And my Growly Tummy tells me that capicola and mozzarella balls would make a very good afternoon snack.


The human female never feeds us anything this nice at home.

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Socking It To Her With Mischief

The human female has to wear special, squeezy stockings.  (Don’t ask her about it–she’ll only tell you, and wouldn’t that be a waste of your time?)

This morning, she is matching pairs from the clean laundry.  She thought she had put the two black ones together.  Then she found a navy blue one.  The navy is much like the black, so she is checking back to make sure she didn’t pair a blue and a black in the low home light.


No, those are both black so she’s all right.


Two black and one navy.  Just need to find the other navy.


There we go, all sorted and tidy and—


Great Frigga’s hairpins!  She only has one pair of black socks, so where did that third one come from?!  Does she have two pair?  She doesn’t remember having two pair…  Maybe she has two pair?  Is there a fourth black sock someplace?  She can’t find one…

Just look at that brow furrow!  I adore making herself doubt her sanity.  It’s one of my favorite things.

This is going to bother her all day, I just know it.

Snort!  She has remembered that she ordered the socks online, so she has a way to check what she should own.



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Disappointing Footwear

Our recent tramp through the woods demonstrated to the human female that her hiking boots no longer fit properly.  (If she had normal feet, instead of malformed trotters, she might be a more appealing and pleasant person, but there seems little chance of that now.)

Thanks to the convenience of the internet, she has been able to order herself some new ones.  I helped her choose them.  Wasn’t that nice of me?

Today they arrived.  That was quick!


The left one fits fine and is “so, so comfy.”  The right one, after a few steps, has demonstrated that it is clearly going to be a misery, so back they go.

Oh, how sad for you!



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Gathering Haycorns

I think Sigyn and the human female must be part squirrel.  There is something acquisitive in them that compels them to pick up every shiny round haycorn and stuff their pockets with them.  (I suspect the human female stuffs her cheeks with them as well, when no one is looking.)

There is a plentitude of haycorns about–it has been a good year for them.  The actual squirrels are fat and happy.  The human female is also plumping out her sweaters in a way that adds weight (weight–Ehehehe!) to my theory about her secretive munchings.  At any rate, as Sigyn says, “Hooray for oak trees!”



A number of haycorns seem to have followed us home from the park.  Now it’s time for—Great Frigga’s corset!  What is the human female doing with those things?  Is she making some sort of pauper’s haycorn soup?

floating haycorns

Ah.  Sigyn has explained that these haycorns are from water oaks, a species the human female would like to have on the property.  This is apparently the “float test.”  The ones that float have been nibbled internally by bugs and would not sprout.  The ones that sink are still good.  She’ll put them in something damp and tuck them away in the cooling box for a nap and plant them in the spring.  (If she remembers–she has a long and distinguished record of stashing seeds in there and forgetting them entirely.)

Oh, too bad.  A large number of them are floating and there will only be a few to plant.  Human, you have chosen poorly.

However, Sigyn can make excellent use of the remnants.


Mais oui, mon amour, ton petit chapeau est très, très charmant.

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A Brief Winter Walk

It’s been foggy a lot in this part of Midgard lately. The humans have ventured out on a rare sunny day to see what’s going on in the local woods.

By Idunn’s little apples!  There is a ubiquitous abundance of holly berries this year!


¡ǝlƃuɐp pooƃ ɐ ɹoɟ ʇods ʇɔǝɟɹǝd puɐ ʎɐp ʇɔǝɟɹǝd ɐ s,ʇᴉ ʇɐɥʇ sʞuᴉɥʇ uʎƃᴉS

It’s not just hollies that can be dangled in.


Camphorweed does just as well.  Sigyn is beyond excited–we’ve been here scarcely a quarter of an hour and she’s had the chance to dangle in plants with both her favorite colors!

(poke, poke, poke.)  Not all plants are large enough to climb in, though.  This one is growing right in the middle of the trail, and it’s very, very teeny.


Sigyn has fallen in love with it.   Don’t hug it, Sweetie.  The human female says it can have spiny fruit.

Oooo!   We have found A Mysterious Hole in this creek bank!

a hole

I wouldn’t go in, if I were you…  But, human female–you feel free to stick a finger in and tell us if there’s a snake or sharp-toothed rodent or something in there, all right?

We’ve been walking and poking at things for a while now.  Time for a rest.

mysleepnumberis moss

My sleep number is “moss.”

Clever Sigyn has found a different moss.


Sigyn doesn’t know if this one’s a moss or a liverwort.


All this green stuff looks alike to me.  Possibly one of the human female’s plant-nerd friends could sort them out, but I really don’t care.

We’re headed to the Sedge Meadow.  I like the Sedge Meadow.  It’s all green and dapply.


Sweet Glittering Bifrost!  What’s this?

trail closed

I had heard the City was Doing Something, but I wasn’t sure what…

But, since I’m a god, barricades and notices don’t apply to me.  Come along, Sigyn.  Leave the puny mortals here obeying all the signs like good little sheep and let’s you and I keep going.

Have fun staring at the signage!  We’re going to go pet sedges.

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