Random Mischief

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!”

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(later)

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.

acornchapeau

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

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I Thought I Left The Carnage Behind on Vacation!

Our vacation was fun—right up until Sigyn and I stumbled upon a murder victim and I was nearly arrested for the crime.  We are both somewhat traumatized.  She is having a bit of a rest while I catch up on what has transpired while we were away.

The Yule decorations are still up.

A few cookies remain.

Great Frigga’s Hairpins!  Not again!

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This time I do know the victim, and I’m sure the body has been moved. This little gnome fellow is a regular resident upon the Yule tree.  Such a cruel and senseless crime!

And I believe I know where to point the finger of blame…

deadgnomeculprit

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Now This is More Like It

I threw that horrific tofudibeest roast thingy in the human female’s shopping cart, knowing that she probably wouldn’t serve it for the Yule feast, but relishing the thrill of danger because there was always the chance that she’d call my bluff and serve up that abomination.

Fortunately, Sigyn and I may have been spared such a fate, for behold!  A Mysterious Package has arrived!

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“Perishable” on a box at the human female’s work usually means oozy, woozy microbes, but on a house package, it often means EDIBLES.  And if I remember correctly, the humans received a box from this vendor last year, and it had the most amazing ham in it–so this is very promising!

Insulated foam container.  Lots of green air pillows.

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Very, very promising!

Oh, Sigyn, look!  It’s a carnivore’s treasure trove!

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Is there ham?  Is there ham?

No?

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Well, pork chops and BACON are just as good!

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Mmmm. Canadian bacon, smoked beef, weiners, and summer sausage.

Farewell, tofurky!  New plan:  We warm this all up, have ourselves a proper gorge, and curl up in a carnivorous stupor.

This is shaping up into a very fine Yule indeed!

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Another Party, More Food, Additional Enticing Table Decorations

Hugninn and Muninn’s downy pinfeathers!  Just how many Yule parties are the humans going to attend?!  Will this eating season never end?

Apparently not, for here the humans sit, once more among people they know and people they don’t. These festivities, however, are not a potluck and are being hosted at an actual restaurant.  The possibility, therefore, of green bean casserole is quite remote, and I would be surprised indeed if there were sugar cookies.

Sigyn is in high spirits tonight.  She’s playing pirate, sailing her dread black ship upon the treacherous Table Sea!

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Come down, my love.  Antipasti has been sighted.

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Mmm.  Cheese.  Olives. Various porcine meaty things.  And what is the other green thing?

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Ah. Grilled zucchini.  I might be persuaded to try it, since it’s green.

Sigyn is interested in the olive.  I’m considering this fat-laden, yet undoubtedly delicious, piebald slice.

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Mmmm.  Piggy and salty….

There is a choice of meals tonight.  Sigyn and I are poised to enjoy this luscious plate of chicken piccata.

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Sigyn is a bit dubious about the green things…  My love, the human female says that they are capers.  “Capers” sounds like “mischief,” so I think I will probably like them.

The table decorations are glass enclosures full of colorful baubles.  Sigyn really wants to get inside and is looking for the latch…

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No, Sweetie!  STOP!

It’s simple physics, my love.  If you open that door, all the baubles will tumble out, flatten you, roll everywhere, and probably smash.  Please!  Please don’t!

I have to watch her every minute!

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More Eating!

As if there hasn’t been enough munching around here, the human female is about to create yet more food, in order to take it to yet another holiday gathering.

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By the ingredients, I surmise that she is making a batch of her rice pilaf, which I will admit is rather good, and which she doesn’t know how to make for less than an army.

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Hmm. Looks like she has an unopened jar of the chicken bouillon.

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Which is why it’s so funny I convinced her she didn’t.  She had the human male pick up a jar.  Now she has enough to make pilaf for TWO armies.

(later)

Here’s a sampling of the goodies at the Departmental holiday lunch.

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The ubiquitous turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  Macaroni and cheese.  A pea salad (?!), some green salad, and some cranberry sauce.  And do I recognize the pilaf there in the middle.  Indeed I do.

And this is Sigyn’s favorite part of the meal.  There were soooo many desserts to choose from!  She does love her sugar.

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A cinnamon cake with pecans, a teeeeeeny wedge of lemon tart, a wafer cookie with some sort of strawberry whippy stuff, one of Dr. W’s cutout Yule cookies (without which it isn’t Christmas), and a wrapped sweet which looks as if it might be marzipan, but which, upon inspection, is composed entirely of crushed peanuts and sugar.  (Not that Sigyn is complaining!)  I am going back to see if the brownies are still there.

Sigyn has an additional holiday Tradition of climbing the table decorations.

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And, as we all know, Tradition must be obeyed.

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A Last Meal

Prisoners slated for execution are, in civilized societies, granted one final meal.

I’m not a prisoner, but tomorrow I will be trapped in the car with the humans as we travel back to the Boring House where the food is so-so at best, and where, no doubt, the Terror Twins have been alternately puking and shedding while a friend has been watching them in our absence.  A gruesome sentence, indeed.

So this, not counting tomorrow’s breakfast is, in a sense, a last meal. 

We who are about to die salute you with fried potatoes

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I could eat all of these myself.  What are the rest of you going to have?

Sigyn is insisting I share.  Sigh.  Very well.  Just for you my love.

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Roast pork, vegetables, braised cabbage, a homemade roll, and those lovely, lovely potatoes. And there is leftover pie.

I will miss this house, where even the placemats have pictures of food.

Now, I am not a praying man because hello?  Actual Norse god here, but if I could think of any deity with more power than me who was worth importuning, I would definitely ask him (or her!) to please let the human female be a better cook in the future.  We have tasted manna on this trip, and to be cast back down to the realm of the hum-drum and the blah feels like damnation indeed.

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