Month: December 2020

A Visit to the Greengrocer

I must admit to having consumed a surfeit of holiday goodies this year. Our kitschy cottage had a welcoming basket of gingerbread cookies, there was the beer-sausage-and-cheese fest, and I could not resist the bags of candy near the tills at the that last store we stopped at. I am languishing for something that resembles a vegetable!

Luckily, there is a Purveyor of Greenstuff on our way back to the motel. Come, Sigyn, let us see what is on offer.

Those are the handsomest, cleanest turnips I have ever seen! However, I must admit I am not really a turnip-lover.

Carrots! Yes, carrots are a much better choice! The one you’re standing on is possessed of some extra appendages. A magnificent specimen, indeed.

Great Frigga’s Corset–what is that over there?!

Oh. Rainbow carrots. We’ve seen those before. It’s just that I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I thought they were selling bundled crayons. That would be silly. Who would want carrot-shaped crayons?

This, though. What even is this?

“Menti leaf”? Never heard of it. Must remember to look it up when we get home.

(A bit later) Well, now we have some apples and carrots and oranges. That ought to aid our recovery from too much indulgence. I might also buy a bottle of this.

Supposed to be good for whatever ails you.

Wait. “Sipping vinegar?” Pass. Although… Change the label and you could put this in the spice cupboard to masquerade as a big bottle of vanilla. Should make for some interesting cookies next time the human female gets the baking urge.

Now I’m actually eager to get home. There’s so much mischief to do in the year to come! 2021 has “Loki” written all over it!

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Great Frigga’s Corset, What a Nightmare

Our impromptu al fresco repast was quite delicious. Now night has fallen and we are walking off the uncountable calories by enjoying a postprandial promenade through the neighborhood in order to observer (and judge!) the still-up displays of Yule lights and decorations.

Some houses have nothing up. (Back home, the human male and female typically do not decorate the outside of their house. It’s pure laziness, but the neighbors are convinced they are pagans.)

Other households have made a little effort.

Some actually seem to have had a plan.

I quite like the peppermint-striped tree. Look, Sigyn–doesn’t it remind you of that weird, behatted tree we saw this afternoon?

This house has embraced the lamentable craze for inflatables and has purchased one of everything.

Oh, sorry, my love! Of course that tall one reminds you of the fellow who assaulted you earlier today! Rather than remaining to catalog all the gassy flotsam, we shall move on at once! There is something rather *bright* down near the end of the block, and a number of automobiles whose passengers have stopped to ogle. Let us go see what the fuss is all aboutl.

Oh. Oh. My. Pointy. Helmet.

Not only is it loud in itself, I can hear it blaring from the car radios of various on-lookers. I have walked the mystic spaces between the Realms, but I have never seen anything quite like this

Click here to watch. WARNING! Flashing lights!

https://i9.ytimg.com/vi/-do_6qkKnP8/mq2.jpg?sqp=CMC2iv8F&rs=AOn4CLBXsHktBvxnqk4TqFhF9Am004T8_A

Sweet Fafnir, there’s more! How long does this go on?!

Click here to watch. WARNING! MORE Flashing lights!

https://i9.ytimg.com/vi/lduUIFRc7GQ/mq2.jpg?sqp=COixiv8F&rs=AOn4CLAFgMrNztzlGoJ4viUDCaLKuSkgXw

These little clips do not begin to convey how obnoxious this is! The lights are much more brightly colored, the music is loud, and the show lasts thirty minutes. Traffic is snarled on this cul-de-sac street, and the radio audio keeps urging drivers not to block traffic or stop in front of anyone else’s driveway. I’m pretty sure it is visible from orbit.

Uh, oh. It’s all been a little too much for Sigyn. Watching the moving lights has made her a bit queasy. Or maybe it was that second bratwurst… In any case, I think it’s time to take my sweetie back to our little kitschy cottage and get some good rest.

Tomorrow, we shop!

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Where Shall We Dine?

Half the fun of any vacation is getting to try new things. Last year we discovered a quaint little crêperie that we both enjoyed; maybe we’ll strike it lucky again. Come, my love, the weather is pleasantly chilly, perfect for a walk. Now that we are all settled in our kitschy cabin, let us go forth and seek sustenance!

I do not remember these weird trees in the neighborhood last year.

If the human female were here, she could probably identify it for us. Alas! We shall have to remain inignorance because she’s not here and that’s how I like it! No doubt it’s just some strange horticultural hybrid of Pinus strobus and Mentha x piperita.

What do you think about seafood for dinner, Sigyn? It’s been a while since we had any really good shellfish.

And if you keep befriending the crustaceans and dancing with them, it is going to be a while longer. Sigh. We shall keep looking.

How about this place?

An international cheese shop! Midgard may have its sucky bits, but it stands out among all the Nine Realms as having the best cheese. We could get some raclette, all melty and gooey over French bread, or some thousand-day Gouda, full of those marvelous little flavor crystals. What do you think? Stay here and stuff ourselves with graskaas or keep looking?

Oh, now this is promising.

I do love a good bratwurst, all plump and bursty when you bite into it, and nothing beats a tall, cold pint of something dark and hoppy-bitter.

I know! Let us purchase the beer and sausages, then retrace our steps past the cheese shop and buy an assortment of cheeses to go with it. Perhaps we can come up with some fruit and have a proper little picnic on the front porch of our cottage. I have never had a winter picnic with flamingoes before. It will be a new experience, which is what this vacation is all about!

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Getting Away From It All

Sigyn never did find something that she really, really wanted for a Yule gift. And the museums are still closed, and plague idiots are everywhere, and it has been SUCH a year, that we finally decided to just get away from it all. We went away for Yule last year, and enjoyed it, so we’re doing the same thing again, looking for a good place to stay. The fact that the human female, male, and the felines aren’t with us is icing on the cake  Bûche De Noël.

What sort of place do we want to stay in? Last year, we ended up in a cozy little airstream trailer, and it looks as if a similar option is available again this year.

Cute, I suppose, but don’t you want to try something different?

Something different with a door and which does not smell of bovines?

Here are some quaint little cottages.

Emphasis on “little.” There’s barely room for one of us in any of those, let alone the pair of us.

This is better. Certainly more spacious. It would do, but I can’t help feeling there’s something even more special that we haven’t seen yet.

Perhaps we should ask the locals if they know of a good spot.

You, sir, you look like a member of the gendarmery. Do you know of a good place to…

Great Frigga’s hairpins! Put my sweetie down this instant, you wretched percussionist, or face the wrath of Loki, god of making KINDLING out of people like you!

Rest assured your commanding officer shall be hearing from me. It’s a court martial for you for certain, my fine lad!

Perhaps this isn’t such a good neighborhood after all! But we’ll try once more. Let us ask this jolly fellow what he recommends.

“Ho, ho, ho–h-over there. There’s a new motel opened up. Just got back from a delivery there. Very kitschy, very mid-century feel. You might like it, if you’re into ‘retro.'”

That’s not actually a bad suggestion. Sigyn often gets nostalgic and sentimental around Yule, and she might like something that feels old-fashioned without being homespun and hokey.

The office looks right out of the 1950’s. This is promising…

It appears to be a regular old-fashioned motor court. That fat man was right when he called it “kitsch.”

Sigyn adores it.

I agree, Sigyn, this unit is cute too, even if Yule trees are not traditionally pink. However, I believe it is occupied–did you not see the 1957 Golden Hawk Studebaker in the drive? Not to mention the obnoxious, also pink, poodle.

This one is vacant:

Nothing says, “Happy Yule” like not one but TWO pink trees, a kitty cat, a canary, twinkle lights, and a cadre of antler-wearing, santa-hatted flamingoes.

Let’s get settled in, my love. We’ve found our refuge for the next few days, and I can’t wait to get started on the snuggling.

Happy Yule!

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Still Looking…

The Eve of Yule is upon us, and Sigyn and I are still looking for her Christmas gift. Today we are out and about, dodging last-minute shoppers and trying to tune out the fifty-seventh playing of “Frosty the Snowman” on stores’ loudspeakers. (People say I’m evil. What about the person who wrote that song? My misdemeanors are tame by comparison.)

Now we are back at that market that has things from all over the planet.

If we find enough goodies, we might need a shopping cart.

Sigyn and I are firm believers that you are never too old to ride in the cart.

These folders would be perfect for organizing my mischief…

If they weren’t, you know, the ugliest color ever created by mortals.

Ah. They have the same kind of personalized chocolate that they had last year.

Last year Sigyn said I was “grumpy.” This year I think I’ll be “hangry.” We’ve been shopping for a while, dearest. Might it be time for lunch?

Sigyn, you are in front of the wrong candy bar.

You are definitely a “happy.” I don’t know anyone who smiles as much as you do.

Even when you are caught in your usual predicament.

Trapped in glass. Every. Single. Time. I don’t know how she does it. Hang on, sweetie. Loki will get you out.

From a bear to a wall-eyed hippo.

It looks like it’s just grinning, but I’ve heard those things kill more people every year than lions do. They’re always hungry. If it makes any false move, I’m prepared to blast it into a pile of gooey papier-mâché.

These deer look a little more stable,

And also very “retro.” I hope she chooses one or both. I’d love to see the human female keeping up wiht all the shed glitter!

This bird looks like the friendly sort.

But this one appears to have fallen afoul of some predator:

Possibly that gluttonous hippo.

You know what, my love? We could spend hours here and not find the “perfect” gift. Why don’t we just do the “cozy getaway” like we did last year? Away from all of the crowds. Wouldn’t that be nice?

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All Right, Let’s Try This Catalog

It took a cup or two of cocoa and some serious cuddling to get Sigyn past her disappointment over not being able to order a snow leopard from the WWF catalog we looked at yesterday, so today we are looking at a more traditional catalog.

It’s the Bullseye Dog one. Sigyn likes it because anything that is not actual text or photo is bright RED.

Norns’ nighties! That beast has developed quite the case of hydrocephalus. He should have that checked out. Maybe they can put in a shunt or something.

This…thing… is apparently the hottest toy of the season.

While I applaud its taste in pendants, I hope Sigyn doesn’t insist on this. I think one childish, green entity in the household is enough.

This looks more promising.

I see my erstwhile half-sister (the one we don’t talk about) is included. I might have to buy this just to see if I feature.

Sigyn thinks the three-eyed aliens are “cute.”

Um, Dear, don’t you recall how sleazy the last three-eyed green monster we met was? Yeah, I don’t think you want to chance it.

Ooooooh! A blaster!

Looks like it shoots soft things, but still perfect for harassing the cats!

Ugh! Avengers, everywhere you look.

At least my stoopid brother Thor isn’t with them. But that bulky green fellow is here. Hmm. This one of him is inflatable. I could pop him with Gungnir and it would be most satisfying. Dog-ear the corner of this page, Sigyn. I might want to get one…

Ah–this is better.

“Wrath of Loki” I like the sound of that! Hmm. Maybe I *do* see the point of Legos after all.

I’m finding all sorts of things I like in this catalog. But we still need to find something for Sigyn.

Plush! Plush is usually a good choice. These are a little too “cutesy” for me, but if that’s what you want, I won’t gainsay you.

May I suggest the pastel rainbow winged pig-cow hybrid? It is completely ridiculous, but if you tired of it I wouldn’t mind punting it around the yard.

Of course, that’s true of nearly anything.

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This Is Sigyn’s Favorite Catalog

There are still a few days left before Yule. I’ve asked Sigyn what she wants for her present. As usual, she has opted for an experience rather than a gift. With the museums closed, though, doing that this year may be a bit difficult. I’ve suggested that she look through a few of the catalogs in the house to see if there’s anything she likes. With my magic, I can have a gift here almost instantaneously. No need to rely on Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly, Unrepentant Package Squashers, or Fed-up and Exhausted!

Sigyn likes animals, so this may be a good place to start:

“Kitty!”

What about a bear, my love? You like bears.

Although this one looks as if it might have some giraffe in its background. We should keep looking.

This one looks to be all bear:

Somehow, I can never look at one of these black and white ones without getting an Oreo craving…

What do they have besides bears?

“Spotty kitty!”

BIG spotty kitty!”

You don’t think we have enough Feline Felonies in the house already?

What on earth is this thing supposed to be?

Giant aquatic rodent? Suuuuuuure…. I think someone’s making things up over at WWF…

Sigyn thinks the sea lion looks like it is singing.

“Fish, fish, O beautiful fish! Come fill my belly, oh that’s what I wish.”

Or maybe it’s just yawning.

Anything you want, Sigyn. No matter how big.

“Loki! Look at the stripey stockings! Could we get one of these?”

Oh. Oh, no. This was a bad idea.

Sigyn was under the apprehension that this was a catalog we could use to order actual animals. She is heartbroken to learn that one orders a stuffed animal and the money goes to fund conservation efforts.

It really is the safest way to hug a snow leopard, sweetie.

Ah, don’t cry, my love. Look–over there! It’s a different catalog. Let’s go look at that….

>|: [ : (

P.S. Midgard makes NO sense. There’s another WWF, one that has nothing to do with animals. One of my favorite bits of foolery is this clever mashup between the two WWFs:

Pin on The Best Medicine

It’s Almost Over, But There’s Still Time for More Mischief

The human female and her band of Do-gooders are winding up their Yule gift drive. The gifts are mostly here, they’ve been sorted, and each family’s presents have been bundled into a big black bag.

Larger families or those with bigger gifts might get two bags!

As you might imagine, with over 200 families and over 1,000 gifts, there is ample opportunity to cause a little mayhem.

Take, for example, the Plague Lady. She called the team to tell them that she’d bought most of the gifts she’d signed up to purchase, but that she’d been exposed to The Virus and didn’t want to hold on to the goods any longer than it would take to drop them off for wrapping. Fair enough. When she arrived, the human female put on some latex gloves, had the Plague Lady lower her shopping bag into one of the big black bags, and bade her a speedy goodbye. Then she slapped a big “Covid Donor! Do Not Open For At Least 72 Hours!” label on the bag and stuck it in an out-of-the-way corner.

When she opened the Plague Bag after the allotted time had passed, she found that not only had the ladies size 16/18 pants and shirt not been bought, the rest of the contents were all mischified as well. There were supposed to be “baby girl shoes, size 8.” There’s just one problem with that—baby shoes don’t come in size 8. Confused, the donor had bought baby shoes and little girl shoes size 8. The Do-gooders looked up the actual age of the child and figured out that the larger shoes were right. So now there were extra baby shoes.

There were supposed to be shoes for two older girls size 1 and size 7, but they weren’t in the bag. There was, however, one pair of girls size 3. ???? As luck would have it, there was a pair of size 1 in the “extra gifts” area, so they were swapped for the size 1’s, but someone had to go out and buy the size 7’s.

Someone also had to go and buy the Minecraft game a little boy wanted. The Plague Bag contained only a tiny box of Minecraft-themed Legos. Legos! Pffft! What a lame gift. I have never understood the fascination with those knobby bits of plastic.

Most of those gifts were for Family 134. You may wonder what I have against Family 134. I have nothing against Family 134. I picked that number at random, and I’m not done with them quite yet.

You see, two of the teenage boys in that family wanted wireless bluetooth speakers for making a phone into something called a “boom box.” Those were gifts 65 and 67. 67 had showed up but 65 did not. One of the Do-gooders had ordered it, but it hadn’t come, then another showed up, so the person who ordered it was going to return it when it came in. The human female wrapped both of them and put them in the bag. Or she thinks she remembers she did. When the bags were checked, though, 65 was still missing. Obviously the human female Pulled a Stupid and put one of the speakers someplace else. Maybe Family 65…? In any case, someone has had to go out and buy yet another one to make the bag come out right.

And then there were the families whose gifts were ready that no one could reach by phone or text or email…

And the lost person the human female had to give directions to for twenty minutes before they could find the pickup spot…

It will be a true Yule miracle if all of these bags get where they’re going before 2021 rolls in.

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La Tablette Informatique Est Mort, et Bonjour!

I am Loki, God of Malfunctioning Electronics. The human male’s laptop recently announced its intentions of shuffling off the mortal coil. (Wait. Computers don’t have coils, do they? “Shuffle off the mortal processor” just doesn’t have the same ring.) The newer models of Malus domestica can’t run the Windows emulator he needs, so he had to buy a refurbished older model. There goes all his Christmas money plus the vacation he didn’t take plus some other things as well.

And then last week, without warning, behold! The human female’s tablet!

Just a low charge, right? Plug this puppy in and it’ll be right as rain in a few hours.

Too bad it showed this when it had been on the teat overnight

Without anything being used, dropping as we watched!

Ehehehe! It would shut itself off soon, meaning she wasn’t even be able to unlock it and rescue any data.

Oh, ho ho! The human male, sick of looking at his wife’s sad face has brought home an early Yule/anniversary/birthday/vacation/Arbor Day/ we’re-going-to-be-eating-a-lot-of-beans present.

Garish box. Let’s open it up.

Um, my pet, don’t pull on that before we determine whether it is, in fact, a pull tab. With this fancy-schmancy packaging, you never know.

All right. It’s safely out of the box and has shed its protective skin.

What an utterly boring color. Should have got the green one.

The other side is at least shinier.

“Hee hee hee! Loki, I can see myself!”

Let us turn it on.

It appears to be functioning.

It said, “Hello”. That’s friendly enough, but unimaginative and bland. Surely, tablet, you can do better!

What a load of polyglottal pretintiousness!

I will finish the set-up. . .

Ipadinn þinn tilheyrir mér núna.

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