Loki and Sigyn on Campus

Well Done, Fenrir!

Fenrir, the great wolf who will swallow the sun at the time of Ragnarok, is making a pretty decent practice run today.

This part of Midgard should see about 68% of the sun’s disk swallowed up.  Of course, I have also arranged for it to be about 68% cloudy.  (It is a true fact that, if there is anything occurring of astronomical interest, be it a comet or a meteor shower or a large canid noshing on the primary, the local skies will almost always be overcast.)

The human female was too cheap to buy me a telescope and, no doubt, too stupid to know how to use one, but she did consent to do the bare minimum and poke a hole in a piece of cardstock so that Sigyn and I can use the old-fashioned method of tracking Fenrir’s snack.

Here we are.  It’s fairly near the beginning of the event.  (Notice that the human female had to weigh down the paper with her big, ugly eyeglasses.  It is breezy AND cloudy today.)

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See, Sigyn?  The little sun spot is still mostly round.

We’ve all walked over to the plaza in front of the student center.  The Astronomy Club has several telescopes set up. The lines are long, but we have hopes of getting a peek.

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(Some time later.) Well, that was a rip-off.   The human female saw something, but Sigyn was too short to peek in, and my horns got in the way.  We’ll just have to make do with our cardstock apparatus.

Look!  It’s working!  Our spot is more of a D- or crescent shape! 

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Here’s a close-up.  I must admit— I am impressed.  Fenrir should be able to swallow the whole thing when the time comes!

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(I am also a bit surprised that the human female’s cheap card trick actually worked, but don’t tell her that.  She’d get a swelled head and it’d take me a week to get her good and humble again.)

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Exploring New Digs

While the Great Carpet Caper is happening, the human female is lodging with Prep Staff who, as you may recall, currently number only three.  I’ve been in here a few times before, but now I’m taking a good look around and noticing that a few things are a bit lacking in the up-to-snuff department.

Take this phone junction box, for example:

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Why, a body could just tug on one of those exposed wires and who knows what might happen?  (Hello, Taipei?  It’s hot here; how are you?)

I am also discovering the answers to some long-standing mysteries.

Such as where all the pens off the clipboards go.

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Eww…

The Powers That Be, deciding that having to deal with laboratory finals, preparing for lecture final exams, trying to hire a new Prep Staffer, and training the two new Prep Staffers is not enough to keep the human female and her coworkers busy, have decreed that the whole office is to be recarpeted!  With four working days’ notice and three days to get everything out of the offices.

Cue the frantic emptying of bookcases, the sequestering of files with sensitive documents, and the filling of lab rooms not in use with everything that cannot simply be shoved into the hallway by movers.

What’s left behind is a sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland of dirty carpet.

Here, under the front office secretary’s desk, we have the Ghosts of Lunches Past.

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Also breakfasts and snacks.

It’s easy to see where the copier was.

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It’s…it’s almost too gross and gruesome to explore!

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Except I’m finding money, so…

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I’m Not Going To Try It. YOU Try It!

The human female has gone to some sort of fancy reception on campus.  Someone retired or got an award or was executed or something.  I don’t particularly care.  I do care that she brought back some goodies from the reception.  She has left this rectangular comestible in plain view.

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Sigyn is excited.  I’m…  Let’s say I’m giving it the good old Jotun side-eye.  

(poke, poke, poke)  On the one hand, it might be some sort of sweet shortcrust pastry full of luscious cheesecake and topped with lovely pastel pink chocolate curls.

On the other hand, it could just as easily be pizza crust, full of yummy mashed potatoes and topped with little bits of savory ham…

Or cardboard, full of caulk and topped with rolled up snippets of band-aid.

It’s outsourced campus food services so, really, the odds are about even…

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Another Mysterious Package

The human female gets packages all the time.  Interesting things like hagfish and potassium chloride and beakers.  Textbooks and microscope slides and, recently, a live tarantula.  Usually, when a parcel shows up, she knows what it is and which vendor it’s from.  Sometimes, though, I just tell the mailroom folks to send over something completely random.

Oooh!  Here’s a likely candidate!   It didn’t come in at the stockroom.  It showed up at the Department’s front office.  Looks like it’s from Fisher Scientific, which wouldn’t be unusual.  The human female orders from them fairly regularly, though she doesn’t remember ordering anything recently.

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Wait…  Sigyn—look at the address!  It’s addressed TO Fisher!  And 1114 TAMU?  That is not the human female’s mail stop, and she certainly doesn’t work in the Medical School!

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Yet under the little piece of paper I’m standing on, someone has inscribed her name in bright blue ink and included the proper mail stop.  Now the human female is truly baffled and I am highly amused and insanely curious!  Whatever can this be?!  Bright blue question mark, indeed!

Let’s see what’s inside…

Sigyn likes the starch packing peanuts.  She likes that they are biodegradable and thinks they’re fun to squish.

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Fisi is under the impression that they are special hyena treats.

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Huh.  Glucose test strips for use in a particular brand of glucometer.  Four boxes of them.

Nope.  She didn’t order these!  Someone, somewhere, is looking for them…

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Epilogue:  They were ordered by an Indian gentleman who is an instructor of Pharmacy at the Medical School.  (His name was on the packing slip.)  He had to drive over from the other side of campus to pick them up.  When he arrived, the building was locked, so he called the human female and she ran down to hand them off.  How the address came to be inscribed as it was is still a mystery.

Things That Go Bloop, Part II: All Wishy-washy and Spineless

Not everything here at the aquarium is a fish.  The collection includes a plethora of creatures that aren’t bothered with the upkeep of a skeleton.

The sign on this one says “leather coral,” but as near as I can see, it’s made of well-organized goo, same as all the others.

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Great Frigga’s corset!  What is this thing?!  A kraken, I’ll be bound.  Stand back, Sigyn!  These things are vicious and can punch right through glass!

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Oh.  Just a brittle star.  They’re harmless enough.   Hey, little fellow!  I like the snakey legs.  Well done.

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Look at this, Sigyn!  The sign says that a seastar can grow back its arms if they’re lost or damaged.

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I think I’ll call him “Nubby.”

Eehehehe!  Sigyn has found the itty-bittiest seastar ever!  It’s a six-legger, which is a bit unusual.

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Whoa!  This one is even smaller!   Wait.  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

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This little goober has SEVEN legs. They don’t all match, but they’re there.

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Sigyn’s verdict on the Aquarium?  “Squee!” and two thumbs way, way up.

:  )

I Knew The Human Female Was a Jackdaw…

The call has gone out from one of the departmental building proctor/inventory people, asking that all employees turn in a list of numbered university keys in their possession so that the (incomplete) records can be updated and so that key hoarders will be induced to return the ones they no longer need.

The human female, who collects shiny things, has examined her key rings and emptied her desk drawers.

These are just the ones she DOESN’T need and will be returning.

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I think we know now who’s been doing all the hoarding.

And what might be happening to the ones no one can find…

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