Month: August 2020

Scandal! Outrage! How DARE SHE?!

I hinted about this last week but didn’t share details, knowing that it would take me several days to formulate a response to the human female’s latest unspeakable actions.

Having thought about it long and carefully, I can now state, categorically:

AS!# 9&*kdk j$%@m-pa7^)aq–WTFBBQ?!!

I…I honestly did not see this coming. Huginn and Munnin did not see this coming. What catastrophic event has my horns all bent out of shape? What has shaken my world upon its mischiefy foundations?

Just this:

The human female is retiring.

I know! I didn’t believe it either, at first. But she’s doing it. She’s turned in her mountain of papers to the University. She’s turned in her further mountain of papers to the Pension People, written her resignation letter, and started putting all her work affairs in order.

What am I supposed to do for fun if I can’t harass her via the Vendor Who’s Responsible, the Purveyor of Dead Things, Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly, Slow Silent and Costly, the Purveyor of Squiggly Things, Fed-up and Exhausted, and all the various Bean Counters at all the various levels of administration?!

It’s unthinkable.

This calls for a reinforcements.

Let me introduce to you my new ally, Timey McWatchface.

He may look a little dorky, with his underwear on the outside and all, but don’t be fooled. He and I have an insidious and cunning plan to undermine the human female’s sanity.

Tick…

We simply have to suggest that she’s running out of time to finish up the Technical Laboratory Coordinator’s Manual she’s working on.

Tick… Tick…

She has years of e-mail to sort through, archiving anything important that her successor might need.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

Files to transfer. Accounts to close. An office to clean out.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

She needs to train her Techs to do some of the purchasing.

Tick… Tick… TICK…

And what about after retirement?

Timey, I think that’s where we can really start putting the pressure on.

What are you going to do with your time, woman?

You can’t just sit around all day, you know. No, you have to improve yourself and get to all the home repair projects you’ve neglected and do the document shredding you’ve been putting off and sort those books and clean up the craft room and catch up on your mask-making and finish some of the quilting and stitching projects.

TICK…!

You promised yourself you’d start exercising regularly and doing more volunteer work and sort the closets and keep up with the housework, or have you forgotten?

TICK…! TICK…!

You’re not getting any younger! What about the travelling? The novel you want to write? What about the English country garden you’ve always wanted? The stamp collection you need to revive? Huh? Huh?

TICK!!!

What happened to learning to juggle?

TICK! TICK! TICK! TICK!! TICK!!!

Good work, Timey! She’s now a quivery ball of overwhelmed dread! Between the existential angst and all the work she has left do do before they knock her down and pry her office keys from her little clenched fingers, she’s paralyzed. The mind is working a thousand miles an hour but the wheels are just spinning in place.

How long has she been sitting here, staring at nothing while the rest of the house sleeps? What time is it getting to be?

Gonna be a loooong day tomorrow!

>|: [

A Box Left Unattended… (Sigyn Speaks)

Loki and I got distracted and left the box of crinkly paper on the table. Wouldn’t you know? An animal came and nested in it!

Who do you think it was?

I bet you think it was one of the kitties. That’s a good guess, but someone found it before Taffy and Flannel!

What do you think–will there be eggs for brunch tomorrow?

: )

I Suppose It’s the Thought That Counts

Look, Sigyn! It’s a parcel, and it’s addressed to the human female!

Let’s open it.

Oh, don’t play innocent with me. I know you want to! No, it’s not addressed to you or to me, but the human female has so many people who truly do not like her that we OWE it to her to, um…pre-inspect it and make sure that it contains nothing harmful. Yes, that’s it.

Does it say who it’s from?

Ah. Flourish–that’s the University’s touchy-feely outfit, the one that encourages people to breathe, exercise, get in touch with their inner moppet, and not be mad at the school for making them teach live during a pandemic. (Did I say that out loud?)

Well, let’s have at it. Good thing I always have a dagger handy.

Well, look at that.

It’s a slogan. Graphically designed, multicolored, and kind of cryptic. Who is supposed to be kind, the sender or the recipient? And who’s meant to be great, President Young (that’s his little message in there) or the human female?

I’m so confused. Is there anything else in the box? Surely there must be, or why send a package via Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly when an email would suffice?

Shreddies!

Sigyn would be thrilled if this were all the box contained. (My girl has a definite “thing” for confetti and crinkles.) I’m not as big a fan. Paper tends to catch annoyingly on the helmet.

Moving on.

Hand-sanitizer?

Oh–I see what this is now! This is a care package, a little “Something-something” to say, “Stay safe in this time of difficulty and pestilence!” All the staff were mailed one. It’s a nice gesture.

Can we pause for a moment and appreciate how the little bottle of sanitizer is of a size compliant with TSA rules for air travel?

Not that anyone can GO anywhere at the moment, but hey, it’s the thought that counts!

Sigyn, we’re standing on something flattish… Get off and let’s see what it is.

Antibacterial wet wipes. Very useful! The Covid may get her, but the human is all set to ward off bubonic plague.

One last thing…

A mask. Very thoughtful. Very soft. Very on-brand.

Very much too big.

You wouldn’t know, because–thank the Norns!–the human female’s likeness never sullies this blog, but she really has a tiny little pinhead. There’s no way this one-size-fits-all mask is going to work.

I can hear you now–“Just tie a knot in the elastic earloops and it will fit better!” That might work, if her ears didn’t stick out like taxicab doors, but they do. Any loop small enough to hold a mask securely to her face is going to be strong enough to fold her ear right over and slip off. Trust me, I watched her try. It wasn’t pretty.

So looks like the human male gets another mask, to go with the one he received in his little care package last week.

And that’s it. That’s all there is. I was hoping for cookies or candy, and Sigyn was stumping for stickers, but sadly, it’s just plague supplies.

Bored now. Come on, Sigyn, let’s just leave all the contents for the human female.

And all the packing for the felines.

>|: [

This Is Why I Will Eventually Win

Sometimes mortals ask me why I’m so sure I will eventually come to rule this miserable rock. What plan can I possibly have to subdue a planet full of Homo sapiens? For them, I have one word.

Forms.

The humans are going to do half my job for me by driving each other insane with 8.5″ x 11″ pieces of paper or torturing themselves with the equivalent in electrons.

As I mentioned on Monday, the human female is adrift on a sea of forms in a leaky rowboat of bad programming.

Wrangling teaching assistants and lab instructors to cover the 88 sections of Biology 111, the twenty-plus sections of Biology 112, and the handfuls of Biology 107 and Honors Bio 111 has been a nightmare. People signed up for sections they had conflicts with, and one Lab Instructor with six sections quit the day before the semester started, necessitating a flailing search for a replacement(s) by the Program Director and the frenzied and continuous rearrangement of large sections of the giant lab schedule grid.

The dust of section assignments appears to have cleared (though it’s not impossible that more may go awry before the first lab is taught…) The human female is now attempting to obtain four things from the teaching assistants and lab instructors for her her biology courses:

  1. A computer account request form for the department, if they don’t already have an account.
  2. An info sheet that gives their contact info, their lab sections and office hours and the zoom info therefor, and their schedule. (As it is, unfortunately, currently illegal to insert tracking microchips into the lab teaching staff, admin has only this document to know where to locate errant TAs and to check who might be free to cover a lab when a TA or LI goes AWOL.)
  3. A lab safety agreement which makes them promise not to drink the sodium azide or chew gum in lab—and which asks for the contact info for the person(s) who should be notified when they inevitably forget this promise and do just that.
  4. A security access request that will enable their ID card to open the appropriate doors at the appropriate times. (Until the power goes out, when people with keys become as gods.)

Each of these forms goes to a different person, but the human female (foolish woman!) has offered herself as sacrifice and has volunteered to collect, collate, and distribute them. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve poked and nudged and suggested and obfuscated and arranged funsies for her such as the following:

–All of the joy of A Diabolical Obstreperous Bundle of Excrement that I treated in detail on Monday.

—She provided the blank, fillable forms to the professors to put up in “the cloud” for the TAs and LIs to download, fill out, save, and return. Some of the profs distributed old versions of the forms. Ones which asked for Social Security Numbers rather than University IDs. Or left off the emergency contact info.

–Some TAs haven’t sent anything in yet. Zip. Nada.

–Some TAs who have had computer accounts for years turned in request forms.

She has received the following:

–The blank versions of the forms.

–Unsigned forms

–Incomplete forms

–Schedules that just say “T” where the time block should indicate WHAT COURSE they are teaching and what the section number is.

–Forms with the wrong section numbers.

–Forms that fail to update section assignments and schedules disarranged by the section shuffling that occurred last week.

She has had the following email dialogues with TAs:

“If we’re supposed to schedule office hours for when the students are not in lecture how do I know when the lecture is for the section I teach?” “That is a very good question. Look on the main A&M info portal for the class schedule and search for your course.” “I can see my section 510 but not my 570”. “Check the next page.”

“I have one set of office hours on my TA info sheet and another on the main sheet that has all the office hours. Is that a problem?” “Yes.”

She is almost...almost… done collecting all of this information, which is good, because the people who need it are chomping at the bit and the labs begin next Monday.

She’s under a terrible time crunch for another reason, one that has taken me by surprise and which has the potential to make me reevaluate my entire campaign for world domination. What’s that?

Stay tuned…

>|: [

Right on Target

I’ve recounted here how the felines in the house are my furry minions.  They’re shaping up nicely.

I’ve also been hard at work expanding my animal influences.  I’ve been practicing on the squirrels, grackles, and mockingbirds on campus.  It brings a tear to my eye, makes me so proud, to know that I’ve given them not just a task but a purpose.

bird poo

There’s a grackle out there who should be feeling pretty good about himself right now.  Well done, lad!

>|: [

An Unholy Alliance

It’s the beginning of the academic semester, and you know what that means–treble the traffic, empty shelves at the market, v e r y s l o w i n t e r n e t, and a veritable avalanche of documents.

The human female’s workplace is digitally buried under them.  There are documents created in Word, text files, images, Excel files, and documents originating from WordPerfect, that archaic yet powerful, functional, and easy to use linguasaur that the human female uses.  There are emails, texts, and scans from the copier.  Or there would be if the copier were still capable of scanning and sending a file, which it isn’t because, you know,  the phones are still out.

The common currency among all of these document types, the lingua franca, that which makes all things possible, is the pdf.  Most mortals believe that that stands for Portable Document Format, when it truth it means Pretty Darned Fantastic. Everyone can read them, they play well with printers (usualy) and are all-around fantastic to work with if one has a good, old version of bought-and-paid-for Adobe Acrobat.

However, unbeknownst to anyone, some while ago, seeking to expand my mischief to an ever-larger section of the populace, I entered into an agreement with Adobe and fed them a few of my clever ideas.

Which is why, therefore, one evening last week the human female was greeted by a cheery little pop-up on her screen. “An update to Acrobat is available. Install?” She raised an eyebrow at the human male who, engrossed in his own cyberworld, nodded. Moments later, the helpful pop-up informed the female that she was installing her brand-new-shiny version of Adobe Creative Cloud.

Ehehehe! By Thor’s over-inflated ego, this is one of my better inventions! No longer do users own their software, they merely rent it. Adobe and I get paid every year, and users are forced to choose/use/love/ a whole suite of pushy features. Truly, the new Adobe (A Diabolical, Obstreperous, Bundle of Excrement) is a sleek, black beauty.

So now the human female is “enjoying” her free 7-day trial, after which she will be forced to PAY for a program with the following bugs endearing new quirks:

–Gone is click-to-open. It’s been helpfully replaced by “click, select from a drop-down menu, click ‘open with Adobe Acrobat.'”

–Documents close for no reason, whether they are clicked, double clicked, or opened. They simply go “poof!” It’s funniest if this happens whenever “save” is clicked–or if the cursor even hovers over it!

–Documents with fillable fields are super-easy to make. And so fast! Just because many of the filled out forms get saved and sent with content that shows in a thumbnail but which is totally invisible in the saved or opened document is no reason to get cranky.

–The whole fillable-field feature gives me a happy, because I’ve seen to it that similar documents with fillable fields cannot be combined into a single pdf. Well, that’s not strictly true. One can combine them, but to save time, I’ve trained the software to assume that if you wanted the contents of a field to be such-and-so on the first page, you must wanted it in the same field on every page. The look on the human female’s face the first time she realized she had twenty pages of the same one-page form was priceless.

Human female, if you want collections of documents with fillables, you will now be forced to combine them into a portfolio, a work you have to say with your nose in the air, in a haughty tone of voice. (Drawing out the “o” is a nice effect.)

Oh, and by the way? Make sure you like how the pages are arranged in that portfooooolio, because you are never going to be able rearrange them.

–When one wants to make an Excel file into a pdf, if any changes have been made, Acrobat is now unable to comply at once. Instead, a new, second Excel file is created and must be saved first, ensuring that document directories fill up twice as fast.

The human female is learning to work her way around my new textual roadblocks, but I have a store of mischiefs ready to go, and I can drop a new one in at any time. On Friday, I tossed up the inscrutable error message “this document cannot be saved because a number is out of bounds,” and today when she was trying to send a newly-created file to coworkers, I gave her this:

Oh, and she has four more days of this fantastic functionality before she has to pay

>|: [

How Much Fun Can I Cram Into One Week? Part II: Friday

Good morning!  Are you ready to face another day in the (f)utility disaster that is Heldenfels Hall?  No?  Too bad.  You promised the phone people you’d be there today to let them into all the rooms that need phone lines.

Let us take stock of the current situation:

AC: Off, with no indication of duration.  Anticipated temperature?  100 F or thereabouts.  There is an additional chiller en route for room 314 where the Prep Staff is temporarily housed.

Elevator:  Sedentary.

Phones:  That’s why we’re here.

What now?  Oh.  The resident of the office next to the human female’s is requesting a chiller for his office, since he plans to come in today.  You’d better call for another…  Ah.  Prep Staff is all departing to work from home.  I don’t blame them.

The human female will just redirect the one that was supposed to be for 314 to 315 when it shows up.

Norns’ Nighties!  It is already warm in here.  Open up a window, why don’t you.  See?  Nice breeze.  You may need to weigh down everything on your desk, but stop whining.

(later)  The chiller is here!  Just let the service techs plug it into that unoccupied power strip there and you will be fine.  Go back to work.

(later) It is suspiciously quiet.  And hot.  The breeze has disappeared and the chiller next door has mysteriously stopped.  You should look into that.

Ah.  It is, sadly, dead.  Likely you just tripped a breaker somewhere.  Yes, one of the ones in the locked room you don’t have a key for.  Well, that’s a pickle, isn’t it?

Say, weren’t the phone people supposed to be here by now?  The human female is calling the building proctor.  Who is giving her the number of the phone tech.

Dialing the phone tech.  Friendly greeting. Phones imminent?  No. Phones not imminent.  He’s upstairs, getting Chemistry set up.  He’s having trouble getting even one line to work.  Given that things are not going well and it’s just getting hotter and hotter in the building,  shall we give it a pass today and try again on Monday?  We shall.

There goes the last reason to stay in this oven of a building.

The human male is perfectly ready to have a break from the woes he’s been having today—some of the larger online classes this fall will have more than 300 students, and the Provider Of Online-Teaching-Software (POOTS) charges for that.  Who’s going to pay? The Department?  The University?  The professors?  No one knows!  Meanwhile, the long-delayed laptops have arrived unexpectedly, and they all have to be set up.  It’s madness in the computer shop, I say!  Madness!

So, yes, he is ready to drive the human female home.  It’s a short walk to the car and–

blocked car

Or you could just wait in the shade for a bit…

>|: [

How Much Fun Can I Cram Into One Week? Part I: Thursday

It has been an amusing week for me.  Because we’re having a continuous heat advisory, I orchestrated an unannounced chilled water outage, on Monday and Tuesday, so there was supposedly no cool air for a couple of days.  Nonetheless, I made sure the human female’s office was sitting at about 65 degrees F, so while the rest of the world was trying to determine how much clothing they could wear without being arrested, she was huddled in her chair, wrapped in a sweatshirt and wearing a mask by herself indoors just to keep her lumpy nose warm.

I also saw to it that the promised phone line cuttage did, in fact, occur on Monday.  The lines were just working one day and not the next.  Something no one thought of was the fact that without the phone line, the fax machine didn’t work, and, while people could scan things with the big copier, the machine refused to let anyone mail the scans to other people.  But it was only until Thursday, so…

Please note that I have talked the Bean Counters out of springing for any more internet connections/routers/cabling/connections, so all of the internet phones that are coming will be more traffic on existing ethernet.   When the power or the internet goes out in the future, no one will be able to call for help!

The plumbing work order is still open, because the RO water lines continue to drip–but only when the plumber isn’t looking.

Wednesday was more or less status quo, with everyone preparing for the very busy Thursday.

The human female had a lot planned for today.  She has a Teaching Assistant meeting to go to, there’s a backlog of tasks for the computer, and this afternoon it’s Moving Day for the Honors Freshman Biology course, as well as the day that one of the Professors is coming to pick up a load of out-of-date biology books for donations.  There are student workers lined up and everything!

I suppose I should explain that the Honors classes are moving to the third floor of Heldenfels because they’re supposed to move to the second floor of Heldenfels from the basement of Butler but, since the second floor of Butler still looks like a war zone and does not bid fair to be finished before the start of the semester, the current move is being made, with the notion that the human female’s Prep Staff will be close at hand to prep the labs.  Luckily, since Bio 111 and 112 labs will be taught online this fall, there are rooms up here available.  Still with me?

Today dawned bright, hot, and humid.  Everyone toting boxes and pushing carts is going to finish up wet and smelly.  I think I will stay far, far away.

The phones are still out, of course.   No one is coming on today after all.  But we have a promise!  Surely by 8:00 on Friday!

Great Frigga’s corset! The elevator, which has been behaving for a few days with all the equanimity of a tired, hungry toddler, has just decided that it had had enough and  is refusing to open, close, or travel.  Bad elevator!  No biscuit. (Ehehehehe!  Stairs are good cardio, mortals.)

The Prep Staff is needing to make things ready in the basement for the Dead Cat Ballet but has discovered that someone has locked the door to the basement stairs, and with the elevator sulking, there is no way to get to the Room of Dead Things.  Does the Bio Facilities Coordinator have the key?  Or the building proctor?  They do not!  It seems clear that no one is going to be looking at Dead Things until after 11:00, when the custodian who has the key gets back from lunch…

Say, has anyone noticed?  It is suspiciously…warm in here today.  And still.

A few phone calls turns up the fact that the air conditioning is out.  Completely.  Plumbers on the second floor needed to the thing to thing so they could do the other thing, and it will surely be back on by this afternoon.

Looks like you have to decide now, woman, whether you want to be moving boxes and carts and such with no elevator to take you anywhere and no cool air when you get there.  Perhaps you’d better alert the student workers and the book-collecting professor that moving is not likely to happen, because it is supposed to be over 100 F today, and the building is already more than a little on the sauna side of comfy…

Bing!  The first of many, many emails and texts letting the human female know that rooms are beginning to overheat has just rolled in.

Meanwhile, the human female has been tasked with gathering all the info for the VOIP-phones-that-don’t exits yet.  What are the office room numbers, phone numbers, Net-ID’s, and emails of everyone on the third floor.  Hmmm.  Wouldn’t it be funny if three or four people didn’t answer her email request and had to be hunted down?  And it would be funnier if people couldn’t remember their Net-ID or gave her their university ID number instead.  Oh, no–wait!  How about two people turn in the same phone number!  They moved offices, and do the numbers follow the person or remain with the office?  Ehehehe! And it would be even funnier if some rooms weren’t even on the list the human female has to complete.  Minor rooms like, oh, the Prep Staff Office, for instance…

Bing!  Temperature alert!  The remaining people on the floor are definitely starting to wilt.  Portable chillers have been called for for the room where all the plants, fish, and other critters have been gathered (recall that the room where plants and critters usually reside is currently under destruction).  The human female is making a series of phone calls and emails, wondering how she can arrange to have all the alerts go to someone else…  Good luck with that.

Bing!

It’s going to be too hot to want to have a TA meeting up here later, isn’t it?  But look!  A notification has just popped up that there’s a nice, cool room reserved in Butler for the meeting.  Surely that’s a mistake, but the human female is checking whether the room is available anyway, because 80 F indoors and rising.

Bing!

Yes! The room is available!   But no!  The person calling the meeting says a little heat never bothered anyone and we’re not wussies and don’t need the room.  Farewell, cool air…

Ugh!  Out into the heat!  The other day the human female had to fax some important papers (back when fax was still an option). When she called yesterday, she found that the fax never arrived, so she is using her lunch to drive to the post office and mail them.  When she comes back on campus, she’ll see my next little surprise–a big (f)utility vehicle parked in the center of the intersection she has to drive through to reach her parking space…

Bing!

(later)  That was one roasty meeting.  The elevator is still out.  There’s no word on the AC.  Everyone but the human female has dripped their sweaty way home.  The human female is thinking longingly of escaping herself, but where are the promised chillers? Let us go see if they ever arrived.

No sign yet.  Back to the offi—

Odin’s Eyepatch!  I thought Thor was stupid!  The human female, now the only non-contractor person in the building, has locked herself out of her office!  She thought he had her office keys in her pocket, but no—those are the car keys from lunch.  You could call someone.  Where’s your swipe card woman?  Oh, in your backpack, in your office.  How about your phone?  Back on your desk.  Too bad!  Why don’t you just go into the open, scary, under-construction Prep Staff office and use their ph—

Oh, right!  Ehehehe!  Sucks to be you.  You have two choices, don’t you?  You can sit in the 85 degree break room and wait for your husband to miss you at the end of the work day, or you can walk over to his office and see if he’ll come over and let you in.

Ugh!  Even hotter outside.  The human female’s appearance now approximates that of someone who has been standing under a sprinkler.  Up to the fourth floor of BSBW.  Blah, blah, husband, blah, blah, locked out, back we go, out in the heat, and back to Heldenfels.  Back to the office and the keys and the phone and the no AC.

Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing!  You missed a lot of texts.

Glorious day!  The workmen are finally here with the chillers!  Once  they’re set up, the human female can go back over to the human male’s workspace and chill (literally) in the graduate computing lab and work there until it’s time to go home.

Bing!  Ahhh.  4:15 p.m. and finally, some cool air.  It is lovely here.  She’s just going to sit right down here and log in and do the work she hasn’t had a chance to do yet today and…

That is a Macintosh, you dolt.  Of no use to you.  Go ahead now, disinfect the mouse and the keyboard and the surroundings.  You know the protocol.   There, that machine over there is a PC.

Typetty, typetty.  Log in.  Hmm.  You need to map yourself to the network drives you need.  The document you need to remind you how to do that is on your Google Drive, which you can reach from…

Oh.  It wants your dual authentication code.  And just where is your Duo fob?  That’s right.  At home.  Face it woman, you have bothered other people enough for one day and neither the universe nor I like you and your are done for the day.  But don’t forget to sanitize the computer.  Which you shouldn’t have been using because it’s not one of the ones distantly spaced, can’t you see that?  Yes, it has an “I used and cleaned this computer” sign on it from yesterday.  No, it doesn’t have a “don’t use” sign on it.  Yes, there’s no computer to the left and the one to the right says, “repair work in progress don’t use,” so this one is actually six feet from any other working system, but it’s only those other unmarked ones, over there, that you’re supposed to use.  How stupid can you be?

You know what?  Time to admit you’re licked.  Give up.  Just sanitize your I-was-sweaty-when-I-sat-down chair, sit on the floor quietly and read something.  And I’ll turn the AC down some, so you can shiver while you’re doing it.

And just think!  You get to come back tomorrow!

Bing!

>|: [

 

Did You Figure It Out?

So, Sigyn wouldn’t let me cut apricots with the sewing shears and she wouldn’t let me put any wasabi in the Baa-Squeal, but how many of you spotted the mischief I was able to introduce to the preparation of yesterday’s feast?

Here’s a hint:

yellow pepper

>|: [

A Delicious Dish With a Ridiculous Name

We are dining in tonight.  The human female is making something with the truly regrettable name of “Baa-Squeal.”  Why?  Why indeed!

The humans call it “Baa-Squeal” because it has lamb in it.

Think about that.

Still, the finished dish, which has its inspiration the spicy dishes of Morocco, is quite tasty, so Sigyn and I are taking notes, in case we ever want to make it ourselves.

First, we make a little bouillon, since we don’t have any chicken stock on hand.

baa-squeal1

(That is definitely the human female’s mug.)

Next, one large yellow onion needs to be made into small bits.

baa-squeal2

I volunteer.  I like chopping things up!

We want to get a bit of caramelization on these.

baa-squeal3

Mmm!  Not many things smell better than onions frying.

Here’s the lamb.  The human female cooked it up earlier, so Sigyn wouldn’t have to see it raw.  Occasionally that mortal uses her brain cell!

baa-squeal4

We should start the couscous now.  It’s like itty-bitty pasta grains and is pretty much instant.  But we’re going to add some parsley to it, so it will take on some flavor as it sits.

baa-squeal6

By Odin’s monocular vision!  Look at that sell-by date!  Luckily, it does keep well in the cold box.

Here’s a fun part.  We need little pieces of dried apricot. The easiest way to make them is with the scissors.

baa-squeal5

I wanted to use the human female’s good sewing shears, but Sigyn said no.

Now we need some veggies.  Tomato, and there’s a yellow pepper in the cold box.

baa-squeal7

How are those onions  doing?

baa-squeal8

Starting to see some color.

Time for peezncarrots!

baa-squeal10

The human female is using frozen.  I’m a Frost Giant, and I approve!

Add the bouillon, cover, and let it cook for a while.

baa-squeal11

If this were a real cooking show, the ad would go here.

Now for the spices.  The human female throws about half the cupboard in here, but I think these will all play nicely together.

baa-squeal12

I wanted to sneak in some oregano or rum extract or wasabi, just to make it interesting, but Sigyn said no.

More fruit is required!  Raisins are good.

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Let’s be extra-fancy tonight and put some toasted almonds on top.

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Toasting almonds are one of the few things that smell better than frying onions…

The lamb has gone in.

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The couscous is ready.  It just needs fluffing.

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Steamy!

Here’s the finished Baa-Squeal.

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The humans are saying it’s a good batch; very tasty.  Ehehehehe!  They haven’t noticed my mischief yet…

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