big city to the south

It Might Not Be The Most Important Meal of the Day, But It Is The Most Delicious

We are on a fleeting visit to the Big City to the South to meet up with the Knittery Friend and her family. The smaller members of this family insist on growing at an alarming rate, and they are larger each time I see them! Soon they will be old enough to recruit into my army of minions, so there is that to look forward to.

All of that growing (and the human female’s gluttony!) dictate that the consumption of food should be involved in this visit. An establishment that specializes in what mortals call “brunch” (a very silly word) has been selected. There is quite a wait, and the hungrier members of our party are growing antsy, but I am assured that the cuisine will be worth waiting for.

We are seated inside now. There are no actual menus and we have been directed to an online version. Scroll, scroll, scroll…

There is an entire section of something called “Arnolds.” I’m not sure I even want to guess what that might entail.

We have ordered, and while we wait for our food, Sigyn is exploring the coffee creamer options.

She doesn’t drink coffee, but I suspect that, left unsupervised, she might try to just drink the French Vanilla one straight out of the little container…

It’s either that or start digging into the jam.

Do you think she could eat all of it, even without toast? My guess is yes.

Myself, I am both intrigued by and fearful of this green stuff.

I have so many questions. If it is made with jalapeños (which are a relatively mild green chilli), why is the illustration of a flaming red pepper? Is that merely the brand label? Is “greengo” a play on the word “gringo”? And why “gringo” anyway–is it meant to imply that gringos can only handle the mild stuff? If it’s meant to be refrigerated after opening, why is it just sitting out on the table? And finally and most importantly, can I sneak some of this into/onto whatever the human female orders?

The food has arrived, and I’m still not sure a) what it is that she has ordered and b) whether it would be improved with a surreptitious addition of capsaicin.

Ah. I have been informed that this is something called “shrimp and grits.” There appears to be a great deal of tomato and bacon atop the grits as well, along with two fried triangles of something tortilla-ish. I am still perplexed by all of this, but I can tell just by looking that has approximately three days‘ worth of calories. I can only hope the human female immediately asks for a to-go box and sets aside half of this for another meal.

Who am I kidding…

Must have been good. It disappeared so quickly that I never got a chance to add the hot sauce.

>|: [

P.S. This is a chain restaurant. I hear they are opening one in the city we live in, so I may yet have a chance to have all my questions answered.

Home Again, Home Again–Mischief Update

*Yawn!* Yesterday was a long day of driving. I’d like to know whose idea it was–it surely wasn’t mine!–to put the human female’s mother’s place in a different time zone, so that about twenty minutes into the already-long trip it is suddenly an hour later already. We returned home a via different route, one that goes past a rather scenic dam-made lake and not through an hour and a half of stop-and-go traffic associated with the Big City to the West.

So here we all are again, back in the heat and swampy humidity. I’ve healed Sigyn’s broken arm and she’s as chipper as ever. I so hated seeing her in that awful cast!

The humans noticed immediately upon pulling into the driveway that the roofer had not made good on his promise to fix some small areas of roof/gutter intersection that weren’t nailed down properly. A call to him has brought a further promise to send someone out to attend to that this week, weather permitting. And the gutter replacement? No sign of it.

The lawn looks like the Pampas of the Argentine. Of course, I’ve seen to it that there are a few bare spots where take-all patch has done a number on the St. Augustinegrass, so the effect is somewhat patchy. Still, mowing will have to happen soon or else the humans will get a nastygram from the City. The human female need not worry, however, about mowing down the blooms of her perennial, autumn-flowering schoolhouse lilies because they are nowhere to be seen. Did they flower while she was away, or are they late this year? I know, but I’m not telling!

The house also needs some attention. The houseplants are gasping for a drink, various cats have been sick in various spots (the cat sitter cleaned up, but you can still see where), and the dust bunnies have mutated into dust rhinos. There is laundry to be done, along with grocery shopping, and the kitchen window is just begging to be cleaned. (Don’t look at me. I don’t do windows.)

I have been playing hide and seek. I hid the female’s watch before we left on our trip. She tore the house apart looking for it but did not find it. Her mother gave her a spare one and she has put a new battery in it. Of course, once she’d spent the money to do that, I poked the old one out of hiding. The male found it in the box of “tech” they’d taken on the trip. Such tech! You would not believe the number of chargers, cables, adapters, hubs, etc. that those two own! The human female never can find the charging cable she needs, or the one that gets photos out of her phone. If she has the cable for the tablet, the one for her tiny fan is missing. If she knows where the fan cable is, the one for her phone has gone AWOL. The red one goes with her blue camera. The white one goes with the blue iPad. The blue fan has a black cable. It’s diabolical! She’s tried keeping them in designated spots–it’s like she’s never even met me.

Today I have hidden the human female’s spectacles. She knows she had to have them to see the TV last night (catching up on the news) but took them off to work on her computer. Logically, then, they should be somewhere between the living room and the dining room table. It’s been immense fun, watching the humans turn the house inside out, rummage through the garbage already in the bin, riffle through piles of paper, grope around in the sofa and then move it away from away from the wall (look! cat toys! more dust rhinos! that leg weight you’ve been missing!). I know where the glasses are, but I’m not telling. Maybe I’ll nudge them into her path tomorrow. Then again, maybe not. First her watch, now her glasses. She feels lost without either. Next, I think I’ll hide her library card. Then a shoe… Or car keys… Or maybe a pair of the shorts she wears so often… There are so many options!

And then there is plumbing. One of the felines was sick this morning–ate too quickly and harfed up all her kibble. The human female grabbed a tissue, scooped it up, and disposed of it in the commode. Imagine her panic when it wouldn’t go down!! She sprinted for the plunger, still in her pajamas and socks. The plunger proved ineffective, but she did manage to reach an arm in (ugh!) and pull out a wad of clog. More plunging. Now, all of this frantic plunging and groping splashed water all over her, her socks, the floor, and the toilet. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink to get the disinfecting cleaner just knocked two bars of soap into the cats’ water dish, putting *more* water on the floor. The human male, coming to help and to bring her the long plumbing snake I’d hidden in garage, walked through the water on his way out of the bathroom and left tracks throughout the house. She did eventually get the clog resolved, and then they both spent a good chunk of the rest of the morning mopping, scrubbing, disinfecting, and then cleaning the rest of the floor, themselves, the plunger, the cats’ bowl, and the various towels used in the operation. Tomorrow, I will induce the other feline to gobble her breakfast and then re-present it for inspection, and we’ll see what happens next.

The human male has sent his misbehaving camera off for repair, but now his computer display is strobing and there’s a funny line down the middle. . . It’s still under warranty, but he’s going to have to travel to the Big City to the South to have it looked at, and if it’s anything beyond a minor repair, it’ll have to be sent out for service. Before he can do any of it, he has to back up everything on the machine which will take (peers at status bar) approximately eleventy-three hours and fifty-four minutes.

That will give him plenty of time to get the insurance thing straightened out. The humans have their car insurance and credit card with Usually Sounds Amiable, Although… They’ve arranged to have their insurance billed to the card, which they pay off every month, rather than getting a separate insurance bill every month. Recently, that arrangement has become unarranged, and individual bills have been arriving. The male has called and called and emailed and emailed, and each time, he has been assured that everything is back the way he wants it. Another monthly insurance bill has arrived today and he is on the phone–again–trying to make it past the phone tree to bludgeon some cooperation out of them. We’ll see how that goes.

(later)

He was finally able to talk to a live human being who assured him that yes, insurance was being billed yearly to the card, but that their “new and improved” billing systems is programmed to send out a bill to everyone every month anyway. No one, not the customers nor the help line folks, likes the new system. Well, rats! I thought it was some of my best work!

Aaaaad, Taffy Cat is on the dining room table again!

So, as you can see, settling back in and situation normal!

>|: [

Just How Uncertain Do You Think Life Is?

The human female is fond of saying, “Life is uncertain–eat dessert first.” She must be in great doubt as to the future, because it’s dessert first, middle, and last around here, especially if we’ve recently been to a big city.

Several sweet comestibles followed us home from the Big City to the South. One of our last stops before returning home was the Large Market Full of Foreign Goodies, which we first visited some years ago. The store includes an impressive bakery, and the human female is very fond of one of their soft, flat breads. It is made with something called mahlab/mahalab/mahlep/mahaleb and is very aromatic. She circled round the bread area four complete times, but she couldn’t find it yesterday. Ehehehe! I saw to it that a customer before her bought the last package not five minutes before she arrived. (The human female’s pout is not very cute, but it is extremely satisfying.) She will have to content herself with some ring-shaped sesame loaves.

Bread is all well and good, but it’s the bakery counter full of sweets that is the real magnet for the human female and my beloved Sigyn. They like to stand there, dithering and debating the merits of the various pastries. Should they make up a sampler box of different sorts of Turkish delight? Or maybe select an assortment of baklava and maamoul? There’s an almond cake the human female has been known to inhale. But wouldn’t you know it? They were mysteriously out of that, too! What to choose instead?

In the end, the two of them declared that their “deciders were broken,” and asked the human male to choose something. Being the indulgent fellow he is, he picked out two things and today we are going to eat them. (The human female is lucky she asked him to pick and not me, because I would have bought her the baklava stuffed with walnuts, just to watch her swell up and make scratchy-scratchy-throat noises.)

The first tidbit looks like an almond tart of some sort.

Sweet shortcrust pastry, almond filling, almonds on top, and a glaze that might be apricot. But say, human female, what’s that white thing in the center? No, Sigyn, I know you’re an adventurous eater, but–trust me– let the human female try it.

Idunn’s Little Apples! The human female has tried it, and has discovered that it is a big, dry chickpea! I was half- joking when I suggested the bakers put something weird on there. I didn’t really expect them to do it! The faces the human female just made were awesome!

The second treat is square instead of round, and it is decorated with four somethings that are recognizably almonds. I think.

This is namoura, a syrup-soaked cake no one in the house has tried before. I just looked that up and read that it has an interesting texture because it is made with semolina rather than fine flour. Sigyn says it smells wonderful, and sort of flowery. The human male says he picked the kind with orange blossom flavoring in the syrup, so I suppose that’s why. How is it, my love?

Sigyn says it is very, very sweet. Even the human female, who usually gobbles sweets like a bear who has been hibernating all winter and has just found a hive of honey, is eating it slowly in very small bites.

Judging by how few crumbs are left of either of these, I would venture to say that there are two new favorites in the house. Of course, the next time we visit that bakery, I’ll make sure that there will be no trace of either of these to be found.

Life is, as they say, uncertain.

>|: [

Evcilleştirilmiş kümes hayvanı hakkında bazı karışıklıkların olduğu

Emboldened by their trip to the Big City to the West, which was accomplished without mishap, the humans have decided to risk a trip to the Big City to the South. After all, it has been over a year without a visit to the Purveyor of Pens, and a visit with the Knittery Friend and the Flying Friend and her husband is long overdue. Since the roadsides between here and there are bound to be full of flowers this time of year, and as I have no objection to eating something other than the human female’s cooking, Sigyn and I are tagging along.

The first stop is, predictably, the Purveyor of Pens. The PPP (Proprietor and Purveyor of Pens) has just this minute received in a shipment a New Fountain Pen which the human male has coveted since he first learned about it. How this pen differs from all of his other green-with-gold-or-silver-hardware pens is a mystery to me, but apparently it is going to come home with us. The human female has selected a pair of cheap, perfectly clear fountain pens to put her colorful inks in. They cost about half the price of a movie ticket and about as much as a middling steak, so if she ends up not using them, she won’t feel too guilty.

And then there are inks to look at, notebooks and paper to fondle, and the Eccentric Bachelor Friend who is also along on this trip has found a FEP (Fancy and Expensive Pen) that he absolutely must have. Ehehehe! I am having such fun pointing things out to people and saying, “Isn’t this nice?”, “Wouldn’t you like that?”, and ” You deserve a little treat…” This is going to be an expensive visit!

All of this spending other people’s money really works up the appetite. The humans are meeting up with their friends at a small Turkey Eatery just down the street. Now, I like roast fowl as much as the next god, but a menu devoted solely to Meleagris gallopavo sounds pretty boring.

Oh. My mistake. This restaurant specializes in food from the realm called Turkey, not the domesticated bird. That is a bit more promising.

The humans are all sitting there, chatting, ignoring the small placard with a QR code. I know what’s going on, but it’s more fun to watch mischief ensue. Now the waitress is asking about their order, and the human female has just outed her ignorance by whining, “But we don’t have menuuuuus.” The waitress has instructed her to take out her phone and scan the code. İşte menünüz var aptal kadın.

The Flying Friend’s husband has ordered a plate of something called falafel for the table to share as an appetizer, making an expansive gesture to indicate all seated. What a great opening for mischief. The waitress has somehow misunderstood and has brought a plate of falafel for each person!

(poke, poke, poke) They look like fried charcoal briquettes. Are we sure these are actually edible?

Sigyn says they are made of “chickpeas with herbs and spices.”

“Chick” as in “bok-bok-bok Gallus gallus domesticus,” or “chick” as in Cicer arietinum? Given the confusion about the turkey thing, you can forgive me for wanting clarification.

You cannot fool me! The human female’s chicken sandwich absolutely is of the cluck-cluck-bgawk! sort.

This thing is enormous! How is she ever going to fit it into her face?

(a bit later) Well, she did. It wasn’t pretty, but she did.

The Knittery Friend (who is eating for three), is eyeing the rice pudding, which she has eaten before and has pronounced “divine.” Excuse me, who is the actual god here? *I* will decide whether it is divine or not. Or, rather, I shall delegate the evaluation to my beloved, who is a connoisseur of such dishes.

Sigyn is too busy making “yummy!” noises to render a verdict properly, but I will take her beatific smile and upraised thumb to mean that it meets with her approval. Divine it is!

Çok lezzetli bir ziyafet!

>|: 9

Mischief Update, Retiree Version

I bet, mortals, that you all thought I would get *soft* after the human female retired, not having students and vendors and shippers and faculty to make mischief with, didn’t you?

It amuses me when I’m underestimated…

There is plenty to do to tarnish the humans’ “golden years.”

First of all, the humans still have to deal with Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly. In a bold move of compound inefficiency, a large Purveyor of Books in New York City, at the human female’s sister’s behest, mailed two books to the human male for Yule in early December. I convinced them to utilize a hybrid, two-carrier approach. Their shipper handed off to Usually Smashes in the middle of December, at which time they vanished from this plane of existence. The vendor doesn’t know where they are, and they wouldn’t tell the sister who the first shipper was, nor will they replace the volumes until they have been missing for a month. Usually Smashes has them listed as “in transit” and refuses to do anything more. Will the human male have his books before the month is out? Who knows?!

The human female mailed a box to the Floristy Friend in a different city and I promptly hid the tracking receipt. She mailed some yarn to the Knittery Friend in the Big City to the South before Yule and tried to check its tracking. Usually Smashes directed her to text the tracking number to a certain other number, which yielded no results other than a return message, hours later, that incurs fees to read. Over the weekend, the human female tried to mail a box to another friend in the northwestern part of the state, hauling the goods, a sharpie marker, the address, and some packing tape with her, only to find that a) on Saturdays the nearest post office is only open between 7:00 and 9:00 a.m. and b) when she brought the goodies and a flat-rate shipping box home from the open lobby of the closed post office and packed things up to take to post office #2, I packed up the sharpie in the box. It will make a weird, if useful, addition to the contents of the box…

Nor are the humans now exempt from dealing with the University. Yes, the same University that sent out a widely-distributed email telling everyone who was tested for plague on campus in recent days that they may have received a false negative and that they all needed to go and have antibody tests done. This was followed shortly by an, “Oops! That was a mistake!” email, and now no one knows what’s going on. I’m not tampering with tests, you understand, just comminications.

And then there is the whole “insurance thing.” The humans were eligible to continue their University-provided coverage, with the billing handled by a third party. The first bill for each of them came at the end of the first month of retirement and was for two months, that one and the next, with another bill following each month. Then they each received a letter that the University was going to be taking over the billing in January (handoff orchestrated by me) and that retirees could have the premiums deducted from their pension checks, if they filled out the proper forms. Which was all well and good until the humans got muddled when each of them received a letter from the third party saying that they had missed a premium payment and Were In Danger of Losing Their Coverage. After spending the better part of two days on hold with the Third Party, the male was told, “Oh, we’re not handling that anymore; talk to the University.” The human female contacted the University and received a speedy response: “Oh, a bunch of letters got sent out in error, send me copies of what you have and we’ll sort it out.” That was several days ago now. The humans still don’t know what, if anything, they owe, who they might owe it to, or whether they’re actually covered.

The human female tidied up her windowsill plants (too lazy to repot them yet, but the defunct ones were jettisoned and the others relieved of their dead foliage) and left a space on the broad dining room sill serve as a feline vantage point. The furry beggars insist on sitting in the window anyway, but now they can do it without knocking stray Saintpaulia specimens to the floor. I have taken advantage of this avenue for kitty mischief, encouraging not one but both to get up in the window and shove the plants even further afield. Moreover, I have taught them to use this as a vantage point from which to bat at the bird silhouette that keeps avians from crashing into the window, swat at the nearby ficus, and play patty-cake with the palm tree in the corner. Taffy, especially, likes to work out her naughtiness on the plants and is quite immune to verbal reprimand, gentle “swats”, lobbed shoes which carefully miss, and being put in time out. The squirt bottle works, if you can catch her with it. All in all, it’s a good way to distract the human female from her writing. In all of the hubbub, last week the ficus went over completely, scattering soil and leaves all over the floor. That was fun.

I’ve been helping with craft projects also. The human female sewed soft cloth roll-up holders for fountain pens for the human male and two of their friends. Clever design and not to difficult to sew, but more entertaining for me since I saw to it that on roll #2, the dark green thread ran out completely with four inches left to sew and no more in her thread box. She had to remove the bobbin, wind some of it onto a second bobbin, and then use the second bobbin as the top thread. Of course, after she finished sewing the roll, she found not one but two spools of dark green thread. On roll #3, which was a different color, I arranged for the thread to break about every eight inches. Ehehehe! That spool is going in the trash! Or maybe I’ll distract her and she’ll forget to toss it and the next time she tries to use it it will all happen again…

Then there was the failure of the potatoes to bake satisfactorily in the pressure cooker, the leaky bedroom window, the jury summons, the property tax bill, and the leftovers that froze in the back of the fridge…

So, yeah, not bored.

>|: [

Mischief Update: Set Chaos to Maximum

The contractors swear by all they hold holy that the second floor of the human female’s workplace will be finished on time.  Well, except for the air conditioning.  And the stools.  And maybe the electrical.  Or the water.  Or the phones.  But finished!

The New! and Improved! second floor is going to have multiple fume hoods, safe enclosures where scientists can work with nasty chemicals, DNA, and other cooties.  Evacuating so much air in a steady flow requires a VLF (Very Large Fan), and there’s no place those fans can go except the roof.  So a delivery was scheduled and a massive crane procured, and all the building’s inhabitants were told to stay home for a day and not approach the premises at all, to eliminate the chance of a) a  VLF landing on their pointy head, or b) a VBC (Very Big Crane) toppling over and making a pancake of someone or someone’s car.

The VLFs arrived, oh yes they did! But I had a word or two with the Purveyor of VLFs and they made their appearance sans the bolts required to actually attach them to the building.  So it was deferred until the following weekend when, once again, everyone was invited to stay very, very far away.

The old internet wiring in the part of the second floor that is going to become Biology and Chemistry teaching lab rooms was meant to have been stripped out, to make room for bigger/better/faster connections, and the contractors took this charge very much to heart and set to with a will, encouraged by myself.  So eager were they to accomplish the ripping and stripping that their zeal quite got away from them and they removed all the internet wiring from the part of the floor that is supposed to remain offices.  Ehehehehe.  Oopsie!  There is, unfortunately, no provision in the builders’ remit or room in their timetable for replacing what they took out–and no budget, either.  All parties involved are having a fine squabble and a round of finger-pointing about who’s to replace it.  And, more to the point, who’s to pay.

Water remains an iffy prospect.  There has been spotty low water pressure, a drip that doesn’t drip when the plumber comes, and hot water that takes for. ev. er to arrive once summoned.  The human female, having forgotten her water bottle at home, poured herself a mug from the break room tap.  Imagine her revulsion (and my glee!) when what she ended up with was pale yellow in color, with a fine black sediment and a rather disagreeable taste.  That will teach her to look before she sips.

The workman have created such a clutter outside the door that needs to be utilized for the annual Dead Cat Ballet that there is no way for the delivery truck to access the alley and no way for a pallet jack to approach the door. The human female, having made all the arrangements for delivery, removal of door posts, etc., was forced to do a little something I like to call “grovel and backtrack,” cancelling the door work order, arranging future delivery (at some as yet to be determined date) of the shipment with Central Receiving, and notifying the Purveyor of Dead Things that their payment will be tardy, since she cannot pay for what she has not received and checked.  Of course, I will make sure the person she spoke to in customer service at the PODT doesn’t tell the Bean Counters at the PODT, and there will be a nice dunning letter in the post for her, you mark my words.

The human female and her coworkers were told week before last that the phone lines were going to be cut at some unspecified date and be out for a while.  Another outage!  It has come to light, however, that there is no plan to replace the land lines and that the entire building is being switched to something called VOIP.  I was, I admit, confused.   Is not “voip!” the sound it makes when one wraps a piece of hot dog bun wrapper around a stick and lights it in a campfire, causing drips of molten plastic to fall with a very characteristic “Vvvoip!  Vvvoip!” ?  Apparently, though, no pyromania is involved, merely Voice Over Internet Protocol.  I am not dismayed, however, because I am fully capable of causing mischief with computers, so expect some good fun there!   (At a yet to be determined date, of course.)

The human male has not been exempt from my mischief.  He had ordered a number of Spanish language computer keyboards for a new faculty member arriving from Chile.  They did not come and they did not come and they did not come.  When he called to find out why, he was told that they were out of stock for educational customers.  When the male pursued it further, he talked with another person, who took a look around at the simply massive pile of Spanish language keyboards in the warehouse and said they would ship them out.  We will just see about that…

Another order, comprising some dozens of laptops, was dispatched to the human male by a carrier I had not previously meddled with.  But I adore making a new business connection, so I had a little chat with the good folks at Doin’ Hella Little, who subsequently informed the human male that they were completely unable to parse the delivery address (the University does not use street names and numbers but internal mail stops, building names, and room numbers) and that the laptops were going to rest comfortably in a warehouse at their distribution center in Humble, a small town rather closer to the Big City to the South than to here.  When the human male asked whether they could not reroute the delivery to Central Receiving, which does have something that is recognizably a street address, he was told that they could not do that and, if he didn’t want to drive an hour or more each way, he could take it up with the vendor.  Which he has done, and the vendor has supposedly Explained Things to Doin’ Hella Little, but we shall see if the laptops materialize.  

In the meantime. the human male was contacted by another shipper, inquiring about his shipment of over 100 tablet computers.  A bit of detective work uncovered that these were, in fact, not his at all but destined for some establishment in a town about two hours and more from here.

Recently, an old friend sent the humans a photo taken of them a decade and a half or so ago.  They were thinner then, and not so gray, and there’s a light in their eyes that is lacking now.  I simply can’t imagine why, can you?

>|: [

Fun and Games with Fun and Games

Thor, my oafish brother, may command lightning and all that, but I myself am no slouch when it comes to electricityEspecially when it involves getting the human female’s electronic gizmos  to disgrace themselves without warning when the chips are down.

Tonight, the humans are playing games with some of their friends from various Big Cities to the north and south. They’ve found a website that lets one of the group who has bought a copy of one of their game bundles log in, choose a game, and then send a code to everyone else so that they can go to the website and join the same game.

It’s a neat concept.  With the whole group in on a video meeting as well, it is much like a party.  A weird camera-angle, lounge-in-your pajamas, eat-snacks, drink-wine, and contend-with-random-appearances-by-small-semi-naked-people sort of party.

It worked perfectly last week.  I even sat in on a round.  The object of that particular game was making snarky comments for other people to upvote, and I was the very clear winner.  No one outsnarks me. 

That was last week.  Tonight, just to thwart the human female and render her even more socially inept when it comes to gaming, I have had a word with her tablet.

jackbox2

Ehehehehe!  That is a whole lot of diddly-squat!  Obviously, it does not like you.

Maybe you need to update your browser.

jackbox1

Maybe you need to remember your password.

Oh, you typed it in exactly as you wrote it down, ages ago?

Maybe you need to update your operating system.  But right in the middle of a party is not exactly when the human male feels like doing tech support.

Guess you get to sit and watch.

I suppose you can sit in the corner and play solitaire on your phone.

Oh.

disabled phone

Ehehehe!   Until recently, the human female had a repeated number in the code that unlocks her phone.  I made it so that unless she hit those two sixes at precisely the right interval it would take only one of them, and then when she hit it again, it would act as if she waited too long and error out.  And, of course, I had saw to it that the open-with-a-thumbprint quit working about two days after she set that up, so that wasn’t an option either.

The other day she finally decided she’d had enough and changed her PIN.  About half the time, she forgets and tries the old one, so she’s really no better off.  She also reprogrammed her thumbprint-ID.  There’s no denying that’s convenient.  It’s amazing how sensitive that little app is!

So sensitive, in fact, that it can read a partial print when she picks up her phone just so and decide that she’s an impostor trying to gain access.  And what does it do to impostors?  It locks them out!

Tsk, tsk.  I think there’s a deck of cards in the end table…

>|: [

 

 

A Boxful of Color, Part I: Because Apparently a Million Colors Are Not Enough

The human male and his friend, wanting a little bit of fun in case this area gets “locked down,” made a quick dash to the Big City to the South last weekend.

Three guesses where they went, and the first two don’t count.

The Purveyor of Pens.  You are correct.  The male came back with this intriguing box.  Come, Sigyn, let us check it out.  It is certainly a colorful package.

inkbox1

Hmm.  A make-your-own-ink kit.  This could be amusing.

inkbox2

“3 Oysters”?!  Let us hope that that is some ridiculous brand name and not the contents of the box!

Inside the cardboard sleeve is a shiny silver tin.  Sigyn if you take that side and I take this one…

inkbox3

…I think we can manage to get it open.

This looks promising indeed!  Although why would you want to go messing about and adulterate what is already the perfect shade?

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Sigyn is so excited that there is red that she hasn’t noticed the other colors yet.

The kit includes a twisty-nibbed glass pen for doing Fancy Writing.

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Careful, my sweet–don’t drop that.  When you are done admiring the craftsmanship, slide the point back in its little rubber sleeve.

There are also a tiny bottle of thinner/toner and two little mixing beakers.

Oh, for the love of Frigga’s petticoats!

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I can’t look. Sigyn’s managed to trap herself, hasn’t she?

Some days I really wonder about her…

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There’s Another One!

The humans have discovered that the Big City to the South now has one of the markets that is a Purveyor of All Things Cute and Japanese.  Sigyn and I liked the one we went to in the Big City to the West.

Sigyn is beyond delighted!  This little puzzle has two of her favorite things–

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Totoros and poofy dandelions.  Not to mention Soot Sprites!

And this one has Totoros and strawberries.    Definitiely “squee-worthy!”

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The store is not all cutesy-wootsey, though.  In the back there appears to be a congregation of spikey monsters.

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“Don’t touch the display?”  I don’t think there’s any danger of our wanting to do that!

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Sigyn, I know you like to make friends, but I think this is one critter you don’t want to try to hug…

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I Called It

I called it.  Both ways.  We are eating lunch, AND we are doing it at the little restaurant in the Large Market.

The human female has a little salad, a roll, and some southwestern cream of poblano pepper soup.  It’s a chilly day– soup will be welcome.  When she’s not looking, I expect to enjoy about half of it.  Sigyn’s more interested in the bunny food.

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The male has soup of his own.  He’s also ordered some arancini.  Theoretically, these are little balls of leftover risotto, breaded and fried.  In actuality, they are little morsels of delight, knitted from moonbeams and unicorn tears by the elves of Vanaheim.

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I will fight the entire nine realms for this one.

As all assembled are finishing their noshing, Sigyn is exploring the table decorations.

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I just cannot keep my sweetie out of flowers!  Truth to tell, I don’t really try.

Lunch finished, we are now perusing the market.  As usual, the humans are buying all of the things that they can’t get back home.  That certain brand of pretzels, that one flavor of fizzy water, the gummy octopi…

Also as usual, Sigyn is making friends with zoomorphic cream pitchers.

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If Sigyn is ever in mortal peril and I have to call on all her admirers and acquaintances for help, there is going to be an entire ceramic critter brigade.

The floral department is Sigyn’s favorite part of the whole market.  It is so colorful!  She looks radiant with these yellow English garden roses.

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And just as charming in these rosy tulips.

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She thinks these pink pepper berries might be among her very favorites.

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(But she says that about everything.)

I am intrigued by these green poofy thingies.  The human female says they’re mutant carnations.

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Maybe they are; maybe they aren’t.  They just look so wrong that they’re right, you know?

We are both intrigued by these sTraNgE carnations–they’re pinkish AND greenish!

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The overall effect is a bit…odd. The individual components are all right– pink is good and green is good—but as a whole, they give an impression of fading, of genteel decay.  The whole is less than the sum of its parts.

Sort of like the human female.

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