Author: lokispeaks

Ridiculously smart and incredibly good-looking

Branching Out to Annoy Other Members of the Family

I think obnoxiousness must run in the family.  The human female’s mother is fine, but her sister has done nothing but insult me this trip.  According to her, I “pick on the human female too much.”  Ha! As if I give the human female even a tenth of the trouble she gives me!

At any rate, I think I may have to focus some of my attention on the sister, just to teach her a little respect.

At the moment, the human female and her sister are playing a game.  There are colorful wooden tiles involved, and the object appears to be to get six of one shape or one color in a row.  What happens if I stick in an extra one?


What, did I mess up the game?  How do you know it’s not this orange one causing all the trouble?  Or maybe it’s the purple one?


The human female has now won a couple of games, so the two of them are just fooling about with the tiles.  The sister is adamant that they be laid out in an orderly manner. You could say it’s a compulsion.

I am happy to oblige with green ones.


Sigyn, of course, has volunteered to handle the red ones.  The sisters are making some sort of giant array.

What happens, I wonder, if I do just a tiny bit of meddling?  How about one tile?  Is that irksome?


Eehehehehe! The sister’s eye is starting to twitch.  Apparently this one small deviation from the pattern is enough to make her profoundly uncomfortable.


Too bad for you, mortal.  My dearest is happy to see this see this red star right here, so you are just going to have to learn to like it…

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Even the Simplest Outings Are Fraught With Danger

Sigyn and I have taken a break from the continuous eating that goes on in the human female’s mother’s house and decided to get a little exercise by walking to the park and seeing if there’s anything fun to do there.

Odin’s eyepatch!  I’m very glad I have accompanied Sigyn, as already, before even reaching the park, we have encountered a vicious, snarling pit bull dog!  Well, all right, it was leashed and very friendly and Sigyn can charm almost any beast, but still!  It might have gone badly.

The human female used to play in this park decades ago, back when she was still young and nimble.  I believe the playground equipment has been changed since then.  The merry-go-round is gone–which is good, because the injury rates for small people flying off of those is horrendous.

There are still swings, however.  All sorts of things can go wrong with swings!  Fingers can get tangled in chains.  Jumping off can lead to crash landings.  Or, if you’re as clumsy as the human female, you can have one of the heavy rubber seats smack you in the nose, leading to blood everywhere.

No, it’s much safer just to sit.


Sigyn wants to try the slide.  I have my reservations, but I can deny my sweetie nothing.  One can ascend via ladder or by scaling this rock wall.


Sigyn insists on doing it herself and has refused my help.  I have one eye on her struggles and one eye on the rest of the park, scanning for further marauding canines or overzealous tots.

We have succeeded in reaching the top of the slide.  Are you sure you want to do this, my love?  It is a long way down!


Seriously.  And look at those scuff and stain marks?  Are you sure they’re all from shoes?


Here we go!  Wheeeeeee!



That certainly did not go as planned.  Are you all right, my love? Good thing mulch is soft.

Let us sit here on this bench and catch our breath a bit.


There isn’t much inherently unsafe about a bench–at least this time of year.  In the summer a metal bench can become a griddle in no time at all.

After a bit more walking around, we have decided to walk home.  Sigyn is using a bit of folklore magic to ensure the trip is completed safely.



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There Are Meals and Then There Are *MEALS*

We are back in the car with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles still to go.  Hey, humans!  Sigyn is hungry!  And the snacks you packed, while crunchy and salty, are not nutritious.  I demand we stop for sustenance!

Huginn and Muninn’s downy pinfeathers!  I meant a real meal, not some fast-food fiasco-in-a-bag!


Bleargh.  Looks like tunafish.  SMELLS like tunafish.


Sigyn is ready to dig in.  Possibly the spinach, tomatoes, and cucumber will be delicious, but I can never smell canned tuna without thinking of cat food…

Uh, oh!  The Cheetos have been breached.


Sometimes I think I need to tie a string around her ankle to drag her back out when she disappears into a bag of the things.

(the next day)

We arrived. We were fed. We went to bed and woke up again.  We were fed.  The human female’s mother seems to be in the running for Food-Pusher of the Year.  I’ve no objection:  I like to eat, and the woman is a great cook.

Great Frigga’s Hairpins!  It looks as if there is another meal in the offing!

The table is very festively set.  Look at all the blue and white china, Sigyn!


Sigyn thinks the china pattern is lovely.  I’m distracted by the mix-and-match salt and pepper shakers.


There is a turkey boat sailing in the middle of the table.


Sigyn thinks it’s a fine ride, but I’m squished in here among the corncobs, which is precisely zero fun.

Sigyn has abandoned the turkey boat in favor of the gravy boat.


Careful, my pet!  Falling in might be tasty, but I doubt gravy would be beneficial to your complexion.

Behold! The feast appears!  No baggy sandwiches here!


Clockwise from Sigyn:  mashed potatoes with gravy, spiced parsnips and carrots, asparagus, mashed sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, turkey, pumpkin roll.

Not only is everything delicious, but parts of it are red and parts of it are green, so it is also chromatically aesthetic.

And is there pie?  I’ve heard there might be pie…

Protecting You From the Most Important Meal of the Day

I stand amazed.  The human female has broken with the time-hallowed Inn Breakfast Ritual, thrown tradition to the winds, and passed up both the large round breakfast maker AND the Texas-shaped breakfast maker!  There will be no cakey little cubby holes to fill with butter and syrup this morning!

No, she has elected to go the protein route, filling her flimsy plate with eggs and bacon.


Sigyn is enthused.  And the Norns know I do like a good strip of crisp bacon.  But really, human, I am just looking out for you.  That is far too much bacon for one person.   Here, let me save you from some calories.


Oh, and I’ve heard orange juice is just loaded with sugar, and you could wreck your whole day by downing a glass.  Let me fix that.


You’ll thank me later.

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Another Journey, Another Inn

I can’t believe I let myself be talked into this.  Again.  You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, but apparently not.

The humans have loaded two duffel bags, an ice chest, two bags of board games, a bag of stitchery, a backpack, two laptops, an unconscionable amount of snacks, and assorted other clutter into the car and pointed its nose west to go visit the human’s mother (whom I actually like) and her sister and the sister’s spouse.

That is a lot of humans and a LOT of driving.

It looks as if it is also going to be a lot of weather.  They’re predicting rain tomorrow.  Oh, joy.


We are breaking our journey in an inn.  One Midgardian inn is much like another.  Beds, televisions, minuscule refrigerator, ugly decor, and a cake next to the sink.  I’ve lost count of the times that I’ve tried to explain to Sigyn that sink cakes are NOT actual-for-eating cakes, but she has not given up hope that somewhere, some day, she is going to find one she can nom.



She’s all excited because this one is sitting in a puddle of goo, just like a good tres leches cake should.  Sweetie, I wouldn’t taste that if I were you.

Yes, all in all, this seems to be a typical inn.  And as one should, I am examining the premises to ensure I know the exit plan should an emergency arise.  I can always teleport Sigyn and myself to safety—I just want to know where to misdirect the humans if the alarms go off in the middle of the night.




According to this map, I am standing in the parking lot, watching the inn burn.

I like it.

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What Sigyn Did With All the Colored Leaves

Sigyn came home from our walk yesterday with a double armful of colored leaves.  She and the human female have shut themselves up in the craft room and are Doing Something with them.   I’ve been instructed not to look until it’s all finished, and I can hear the occasional giggle from behind the closed door.

I’m patient.  I can wait.

It’s finished? I can look now?

loki sigyn collage

Sigyn!  That is really beautiful!

What happens if we turn the lightbox on?


Really, really lovely.  In this season of giving thanks, I am SO thankful for you, my dear.

And now let’s have some leftover pie!

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A Very Colorful Fall Walk

The recent local weather (hot cold hot cold rainy sunny cold hot again), while making wardrobe deliberations a maddening ordeal with at best a 50-50 percent chance of success, have had an unexpected effect.  The local flora, famous for not giving a fig for seasonal expectations and remaining green until January, has decided, for once, to oblige Sigyn’s longing for a colored autumn.

We have therefore embarked upon a tour of the yard, the surrounding neighborhood, and the park at the end of the street, in order to take in all the offerings on this bright and sunny afternoon.



cedar elm




woolly bucket or gum bumelia (both ludicrous names)


upland swamp privet (an oxymoron if I ever heard one)


yaupon holly


post oak




winged elm






more asters

fall color-aster2

more yaupon


ditto (can you tell Sigyn really likes holly?)




a whole galaxy of asters  (Time for a little rest.  Dangling is hard work)


white mulberry


miniature dragon


poison ivy  (Go on, human female, pat the pretty plant!)


more mulberry


copperleaf (Aptly named, I’d say.)


More elmage


honey locust


bald cypress


yet more elms

fall-color-more elm

many shot of a truly splendid farkleberry

fall-color-vacciniumfall color-vaccinium2fall-color-more vaccinium

blackjack oak

fall-blackjack oakfall-color blackjack oak2fall-color-blackjack3

They say some medieval craftsman invented stained glass.  I’m not so sure.

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