My Guess Is The Feline Never Gets These

The mail-order Purveyor of Cat Goop, in addition to rubberized sailor hats, has included some other free items in the order.

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This sphere is interesting.  It is very nearly red and green.  And it jingles!

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And this one makes a fine, annoying crinkly noise.

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I doubt very seriously that the superannuated feline will bestir herself to play with either of these, but the hard plastic jingly one can profitably be left where the human female will step on it barefoot, and the crinkly one can easily be slipped into her pillow case…

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More Goop for the Feline

The mortals have changed the pharmacy from which they purchase the feline’s many medicines.  Cheaper goop-shipping and auto-refils are definite inducements.  The new medicaments have arrived.  Let’s inspect them for mischief potential.

The new put-up for the beast’s thyroid medicine is some sort of pen-like thing.  I do not understand how it works.  Sigyn, can you figure out the instructions?

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“Turn barrel two full rotations to receive full dose.”  Ah.  Now I see.  The end part twists and makes clicky noises and goop comes out.

cat medicine1

I shall enspell this so that after the human female wipes the dosage off onto a gloved finger, it continues to ooze, so that at the next dosing, there’s already some goo extruded.  That should be amusing.  And messy.  And imprecise.

The pharmacy has included some little round rubber things.  I can’t imagine what they’re for…

cat medicine 3

Unless they are prophylactics for pixies or…

Great Frigga’s Corset!  No, Sigyn, DO NOT PUT THAT ON YOUR HEAD!!

cat medicine 4

Although, I must admit it has a rather jaunty, nautical flair.

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A Little Night Botany

I will give the human female this:  there is one facet of her existence in which both her botanical skills and her sloth (by which I mean her laziness, not the stuffed representative of the Xenarthra which resides on the sofa) have paid off.  When the humans first moved into the house (back in the Mesozoic), the female noticed a few pink evening primroses in the weedy lawn.  Subscribing to the theory that most wildflowers are pleasing to have about the place, she mowed around them.  Less lawn to mow, and all that.

She continued with this regimen in subsequent years, with the result that the front lawn now looks like this:

oenothear4

I took that photo a bit ago. They’ve actually filled in a bit since then.  It’s by far the most gaudy and profligate display on the street.

Tonight, feeling in a bit of science-ish mode, the human female has taken her little black-light flashlight and come out to see if the flowers have any markings visible in UV light.  According to her, some flowers do, since many pollinating insects can see UV light.  These markings can serve as nectar guides, etc., etc., [insert long string of botanese.]

At any rate, here we are.  Flashlight on, and…

By Odin’s rotten depth-perception!  Boost me up, mortal, so that I may better see!  Observe:  there are no specific markings, but the flowers themselves glow brightly under UV, while the surrounding foliage appears dark.

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Under strong, directional UV, they fairly glow.

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Come look, Sigyn!

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Just don’t lean in too far —you know how hard it is to get pollen out of your hair!

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Jewelry By the Numbers–A Story by Loki

Once upon the time, the human female rummaged through her bead box and made herself an earring.  It had an opal glass bead, an iridescent blue lentil-shaped bead, some smaller beads, and a shiny silver earwire.

earring1

It was so beautiful that she loved it immediately and made herself another just like it.

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She wore them and wore them, and really, it was only a matter of time before she lost one and had only one left.

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(It might have had some help getting lost…)

The human female was very sad, because she liked those earrings very much.  So she dug through her bead box again and fished out the very last of her opal glass beads.  She made herself another earring that was just like the lost one and the one she still had.  It was good to have a pair again, and she was very happy.

earring4

She wore them and wore them, and months went by.  Then the inevitable happened.  She lost one down the sofa while she was being a lardbutt  working on the computer.  Then she was down to one again.

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It was very, very sad.

When she was done being a lardbutt computering, she dug and dug and fished and groped, and behold!

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The missing earring was found and she had a pair again!  She jumped up joyfully–

–and something clattered to the floor.

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And she lived happily ever after.*

The End.

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*Or at least until I get bored again…

I Don’t See Mint *OR* A Spring, Part II: Some Viney Things, Some Goopy Things, and … Stuff

There aren’t just little sand-lovers here.  There are some good vines for climbing and swinging.

The Alabama supplejack (who names this stuff?!  Whoever it is has been imbibing/sniffing/snorting something!)  has smooth bark and pretty leaves.

berchemia

It’s also called “rattan vine,” which is profoundly misleading, since it has absolutely nothing to do with splintery patio furniture.   The little green flowers on this vine aren’t very showy.

No, for showy, you need this one–coral honeysuckle:

nativehoneysuckle

Three guesses why Sigyn likes it so much.  We have met this plant before, when Sigyn proved conclusively that sometimes the red flowers are orange inside.  Today she seems content just to dangle.  I don’t blame her.  It is spring, after all.

Coral honeysuckle is native, well-behaved, and attractive to hummingbirds.  (Sigyn would like to pet a hummingbird.  I keep trying to tell her they’re vicious, stabby little beggars, but she doesn’t believe me.)

I, on the other hand, prefer the exotic Japanese honeysuckle.

japhoneysuckle

It has weird one-sided flowers that open out of crooked buds.  It’s highly aggressive, choking out anything that crosses its path.  The human female is allergic to its nectar, and she once spent all night barfing after sampling just a few flowers’ worth.

I plan to plant a dozen or so in her backyard.

Sigyn, what have you got over there?

Idunn’s little green apples, what on earth are those?

milkweed

Let’s see:  five sepals, five weird green petals, five purple

Five purple what?  And what is that tall bit in the center of each blossom?  And what’s with the goopy, milky sap?  Sigyn, I think you should get down from there–I’m not sure this one is actually from this planet.  There’s no telling where it’s been!

Or what who it might have for dinner.

Whew!  I’m sure this plant is much safer.  Sigyn, let the human female boost you up so that you can smell the flowers.  What’s that?  Sweet, but a little onion-y?  I wonder why?

onion

Sigyn’s not really interested in digging one up to see if they really are onions.  She just likes the way they come in every shade from white to purple.

Ooo!  Be careful of this next one!  It has spiky, spiny foliage and the enormous flower head is crawling with bees!

thistle

Upon closer observation, however, I can see that those aren’t bees but big, bumbling beetles just gorging themselves on pollen!

Speaking of gorging, I do believe it is dinner time!  Let’s head for home and see what we can rustle up.  We can always come back another day.

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I Don’t See Mint *OR* A Spring, Part I: It’s Very Flowery Here

The human female hasn’t been doing a lot of field botany because she’s still having trouble with her feet.   Or that’s what she *says,* anyway.  Personally, I think she’s just to rotund to move anymore.

Nevertheless, she happened to have a meeting today in a part of town that is not too far from an area she knows can be lush in the spring, so we are stopping for a quick look.  It’s called Minter Spring.  Minter than what?  Is there a plain Mint Spring somewhere?  Is there a Mintest Spring a little further down the road??  I do not know.  Place names in this part of Midgard are so silly that there’s no telling.

So here we are.  The soil is very sandy.  The plants here are ones that like living in a place that’s like a beach with no water.  (That’s right. No water— I don’t see any actual spring.)

This is pointed phlox.  I think that particular obnoxious shade of pinky-purple is not otherwise found in nature.  (And that’s a good thing.)

phlox

But Sigyn doesn’t seem to mind.

Sometimes Sigyn needs a boost to look at the flowers properly.  The human female says this next one is called “drum-and-sand warts.”  That can’t be right.  She’s wearing a hat, but maybe she needs sunscreen and some shade.  Perhaps the warm spring sun has scrambled what passes for her brain.

arenaria

Or maybe she’s just drunk.  Can’t rule that one out.

Just to show you how DUMB Midgardian names can be, this next one is called “blue-eyed grass.”

blueeyes

It’s not a grass, it doesn’t have EYES, and the flowers dry purple.  But the flowers on the phlox dry blue, so I suppose it all evens out.

Oooo!  The female says the blue-eyed grass is a very naughty plant and does not transplant into the home garden very well.  Also, the three or four species in this part of Midgard like to play botanical footsie with one another– so much so that it can be impossible to tell what species most plants are!  There are almost no plants of pure lineage.   A race of color-shifting, uncooperative, bastard posies.  I approve!

Sigyn is very fond of daisies.  This particular one is called daisy fleabane.

fleabane

Supposedly, strewn about the house, it is will keep fleas away.  Hey!  I think the human female has fleas–we should pick some for her!

Which might be harder than it sounds…

fleabane2

Stuck.

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Oops. We Both Goofed, Part II: Afters

You wouldn’t think that after all of that babagawhatsit, chicken, vegetables, rice, barberries, bread, and assorted chlorophyllous greenstuff, we wouldn’t have room for anything else, but you’d be wrong!

Mortals usually are.

We have brought home a package of what purports to be dessert.  The human female can’t have any, but we sure can!  I can’t read half of this, though, Sigyn, can you?

shiraz-cookies1

Cookies made out of peas?  Are you sure that’s a good idea?  Or wait–it says “chickpeas.”  Is that a typo?  Is it chicken and peas?  Frankly, that sounds even worse!

poke, poke, poke.  Should cookies be crumbly and sandy?

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I don’t trust them.

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