Bzzzt! Wheeeeeeennnnnnnnnn!

The young Midgardian whose party I have taken over has received some interesting gifts. Chief among them is a set of electric components with which one can build any number of gadgets and tinkerments.


I am quite adept at circuitry. Such a tantalizing array of potential mayhem is irresistible.


The kit has come with a booklet containing instructions for various projects. I think… let me see… We shall build THIS ONE!


We shall need these two pieces, plus that thingummy over there. No, the other one.


The Ticking Screecher is complete!


Sigyn, light of my life, you might want to cover your ears, or better yet, let us leave the vicinity, for I have added a special, magical, Loki touch to this device.

Once activated, it will never, ever shut off, even should the batteries be removed…

Ehehehehehehe! Oh, dear me—look at the time! Off we go!

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Loki, God of Party-crashers

Midgardian small ones grow up so quickly. But then again, their lives are so short, that I suppose they must rush. They also take great note of the anniversaries of their entering the world. Such a fuss for a swarm of mayflies.

The small son of the human female’s knittery friend is having a birthday today. Sigyn would like to attend, since the knittery friend has been kind to her. She also wants me to go with her, since there will be a number of people there and she is feeling a bit shy. Dearest, must we? The mortals are driving to attend the festivities, and two hours cooped up in the car with their nattering and execrable taste in music would be enough to drive a saint to murder, and I am no saint.

Sigyn has been known to become a little queasy when we teleport. Thus, a compromise between the slow, nattering, strangling way and and the fast, nauseated Sigyn way.


Um, my sweetling, while I commend and admire your bravery, would it not be better for you to join me in the cockpit?


<later> We encountered some turbulence on the way here, but it was still better than either alternative. We have arrived, so now the party can commence!

The knittery friend has created a themed cake for the birthday child. I have improved it with my presence. Neither small game-piece monsters nor six year old Midgardians are half so terrifying as Loki!


<still later> The Midgardians and their boardgames! They seem to play them at every opportunity. Today’s boxed chaos is called "Rhino Hero."


Hero? Snort! Rhinos are notoriously weak-minded, and it was the work of a moment to suborn him to my cause. Welcome, Caped Ceratomorph!

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There’s something in the air…

And that something is the sweet smell of flowering Acacia. I must admit, this is one plant I actually like. It is prickly, unpredictable (some years it does not flower at all, not a single plant locally), and a delightfully garish shade of yellow-orange that clashes with everything except school buses and No. 2 pencils.*

I am not one for perfumes, but Sigyn is quite enamored of the soft, licorice-like fragrance of the flowers. On still, humid nights, these flowering trees are smellable all over town.


Natural history lesson: Giraffes love Acacia the way the human female loves cookies. Sigyn has always wanted to meet a giraffe, so for her birthday today, I have gathered some branches of Acacia and sent out a tickly little “come hither” spell.

That was quick! We have only been standing here a few minutes, and already a couple of the gangly camelids have sauntered by to sample our offerings.



I surmise that the one I am tempting has eschewed the traditional reticulated pattern in favor of gaudy neckware.

Sigyn is going to have hers domesticated in no time.


She has charmed the spotless one as well. Careful, Birthday Girl–it is a long way down!


Lest you think I have become too soft-hearted, cavorting in flowers and feeding errant members of the Artiodactyla, I present one of my best pranks ever:

I parked the humans’ vehicle beneath one of the trees with the moon roof open and then summoned another giraffe.


Not only will they have to somehow induce the giraffe to exit the vehicle, they will have the unenviable job of removing giraffe-produced Acacia byproducts from the upholstery…

All in all, a mighty fine day.

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*They also match Kodak film boxes, but those are becoming scarce. I would like to go on record as saying that is NOT my fault.

The Human Female is Aging

The human female is aging. For some reason, she has acquired gray hairs more and more quickly since about December of 2013. At this rate, merchants will start offering her the Senior Discount any day now.

Sigyn has insisted that we mark her birthday with a small gift. I suggested something lovingly made with toothpicks and the contents of the dryer’s lint screen, but Sigyn would have none of it. Instead, she has found this unique deck of playing cards. I must admit that the human female, huge plant nerd that she is, will probably like them.


To be honest, I think Sigyn is hoping the human female will play cards with her, just so she can look at all the flowers. Sigyn likes the eight of hearts best because, “The flowers have smiley faces.”


I like these two. Because reasons.


Sigyn thinks we should offer to play a game with the Birthday Crone. (“Girl” in nowise applies.) I concur, and, in keeping with the years of decrepitude she has attained, I have made everything ready for a game of



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p.s.  The apothecary bottles are STILL HERE

A little craft project

Sigyn has invited some friends and acquaintances over to work on a craft project. I don’t really trust all of these folks yet, but I will go along, since it is for a good cause.

The paper and crayons have come out. Is anyone surprised that Sigyn has chosen red?


I am predictable as well.


The others have their own preferences.





Accidents happen.


All done! Everyone smile!



Happy Birthday to the human female’s mother! You can leave felicitations for her in the comments.

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A Most Delectable Day

For some reason, there are a lot of Midgardians with birthdays in February. (What do they get up to in May??) As it happens, my birthday also falls in this month, if reckoned by the Midgardian calendar. Today, in fact.

Sigyn has made me a birthday cake, with her own pretty little hands. It looks…er… scrumptious, darling–thank you!


Oh. Sigyn says that it is supposed to look like that. The brown bits are a tasty crumb topping. Fair enough. I’ve nothing against tasty crumbs.


Ooo! It also has a jammy blood-red filling! It quite looks as if I’ve butchered the poor pastry. Sigyn is so cute when she pretends to be horrified.


Mmmm. Messy, but good. Thank you, dearest. You certainly know what I like.


I just hope I can keep the greedy human female from inhaling the remainder.

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