Same Madness, Different City

I like my new green fountain pen well enough and would happily call a halt to the search for whatever ill-defined ne plus ultra of pendom the humans are seeking, but No!  There must be MORE PENS!  MORE INK!  Somewhere there awaits an ink or a nib they have not tried and there is no rest for anyone until totality is reached.

Thus Sigyn and I find ourselves whisked away (well, as whisk-y as the traffic will allow, which isn’t very) to the Pen Emporium in the Big City to the South.  *Yawn.*  Old news, mortals.

The human female is taking the opportunity to try out the Namiki Falcon Fine Soft nib she thinks might work well with her handwriting.


Look at that hieroglyphic mess!  Flamingos?  Really?  Turns out that while it feels quite nice to write with, it really doesn’t flex as much as she hoped, and it doesn’t miraculously give her perfect penmanship.  I could have predicted that.

The next nib is a clever little one that is adjustable from stiff to soft.  Let us see what that produces.


Blots, mostly.  Oh, well. It was worth a try, I suppose.  And while we are examining the results, what color would you say that ink is, hmm?  It is called Noodler’s Texas Blue Steel (I am not making this up!) The female maintains it is a dark teal.  The male says it is a steel blue with no green at all.  Greenish!  Blue!  GreenishNo green!  Ehehehehehe!  This is marvelous–I think they may actually come to blows!

Rats! The humans are moving on to testing every other ink they can find.


Great Frigga’s corset!  What possible use could one have for that screaming yellow?  The Rome Burning is an intriguing shade, and I quite like the Antietam (looks like dried blood), but where are all the good greens?

While the male continues to try every. single. tester. bottle. ever, the female has wandered over to look at the pre-filled sissy gel pens.  Given her inability to write with a fountain pen without besmearing herself and her surroundings utterly…


…this is probably wise.  (The above was AFTER washing.) You can see some of the ones she’s tested toward the bottom of the photo above.  After a LOT of dithering, she has picked out two greens, a teal, and a purple.  (It is purple, woman.  No amount of you calling it “Antique Violet” will keep it from being a purple pen.)

Sigyn is using the gel pens to draw a little violet or something.


Not bad for using her non-dominant hand, though you can see her coloring wobbled a little.  Sigyn, may I try the dark green one?


Oh, that will do quite well, when my fountain pen isn’t handy.  I shall mark where the human female puts it and purloin it at the earliest opportunity.

The male has just examined (at the female’s behest) a bottle of something called King Philip’s Requiem.  King Philip’s Revenge would be a more apt name!  Ehehehe!  It is a most violent shade of magenta-fuchsia, and the over-filled bottle has dribbled ink everywhere, much in the manner of the dreaded pink stain in that famous Midgardian children’s book about the cake-eating feline.  I do not know what heinous crime the ghost of King Philip is avenging, but his retribution is indeed terrible to behold.  While everyone else cleans up, Sigyn and I will enjoy this pastel repast which the proprietor has set out for valued customers such as ourselves.


Ehehehe!  Oh, no!  Ehehehehehe!  The human male has actually purchased the magenta ink!  It was the last of its kind, a tester bottle, and the proprietor opened it to see how much remained, so as to set a price upon it.  I distracted him and he did not secure the lid properly afterwards. The check-out clerk, the clerk’s computer mouse, and the check-out counter have now all been liberally anointed, and the Revenge continues to spread. Sometimes these mortals make it just too easy.

>|: [



Half a Picnic

Hooray! It’s just a smidge cooler today. Since we’ve spent so much time indoors recently, I thought a little outing would be fun. I sent Sigyn a sweet little note and invited her on a dessert picnic.


I had to visit three bakeries but I finally found this apple cake she likes so much, and I remembered her favorite mug. Well, all right, it’s my favorite mug because it has her cute smiling face on it. It reminds me of our first date.

I wonder what’s keeping her? It’s not like her to be late. She said she was going to visit her sister Gunnehilde (in whose beard may there be fleas) and then meet me here. Maybe that harridan has got her doing chores or is working overtime telling Sigyn how wrong I am for her… Or maybe Sigyn got distracted by flowers on the way. No, surely not my Sigyn! Or maybe she’s been having the same sort of day I have? This morning, I couldn’t find a matching pair of socks to save my life. It’s as if someone is sending mischief and chaos my way. Oh, well. I’m sure she’ll be along soon.


The cake just sits there, mocking me. I want it on the record that I’m being very good. I haven’t had so much as a nibble. She is terribly late now. I am beginning to worry. Sigyn, where are you?

Wait–is that her? No.


I have a bad feeling about this…

That’s it. I’m going to go look for her. I’ll leave a note for her here, and most likely we’ll miss each other in passing, or I’ll run into her on the way and we’ll laugh about it all.

A quick spell to keep anything from eating the apple cake without us, and I’m off.


>|: [

A cake just for me

Some of the Midgardians are gearing up for something religious, but I’m not sure I understand it completely. Something about forty days and forty nights and fasting and sacrifices and repentance. They plan to start the observance off by feasting and partying and perpetrating misdemeanors so that they have something of which to repent… Sounds like my kind of shindig.

Every Midgardian holiday seems to have its own suite of culinary peculiarities, and this one’s no exception. The human female has been going on and on about King Cake for a week now, and she has located one in the market. Would you look at this handsome thing!

And the cake looks good, too. >|; ]


It is indeed a cake fit for a king. You know what? I think it must have been made in my honor! Maybe this holiday is all about ME! My fame has spread and the populace is on the very brink of rising up en masse and declaring me god and/or king! It is about time! I adore feasting and sacrifices– as long as I’m the one doing the feasting and everyone else is doing the sacrificing. And “Mardi Gras” must mean “everybody kneel” in one of the local dialects. Well done!

However, they do need to make more of an effort to get the colors right. I approve of the green and the gold, but why did they add all the purple? I don’t “do” purple.

Mmmm. Caaaake. I wonder what it tastes like…


Apple! Apples are good. I like apples. But what’s this about an inedible baby inside? I don’t think I like the sound of that. I can be ruthless, but I have yet to stoop to the slaughter of infants and their inclusion in any sort of patisserie.

Maybe I don’t want this holiday…

>|: [

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.

>|: [

Another Yule custom

It is the custom at the human female’s work place to gather everyone for a holiday luncheon to which everyone brings a dish. Mainly, it is an excuse to slip off work for a good while and an opportunity to consume an inordinate quantity of food, under the guise of "trying a little bit of everything."

Many of the dishes are unfamiliar to me. I recognize lettuce, but what are these little grains with the curly bits? I don’t trust them. And why does the turkey appear to be bleeding?


Very well, we obviously have some fruit, placed on the plate as a fleeting nod to nutrition. But what are the various yellow concoctions? I heard someone mention "stuffing," but that’s what the human female is doing. I want to know what she’s eating.


Ah, dessert! Sigyn and I like dessert!


We have apple pie, some cake, a triangle of strawberry cheesecake in fancy dress, and… and…and whatever this quaking cube thingy is. Sigyn says she heard someone call it "flan." You can’t fool me. That’s not a real word. Before I taste it, I will wait and see if the human female eats it without expiring.

Oh, and Sigyn–it looks as if some careless person dropped a few nuts on your cheesecake. You aren’t allergic, are you?

>|: [

Yet another Midgardian inn

I forgot to mention that the humans traveled for this past holiday, staying in yet another Midgardian inn. I am beginning to believe that they were all constructed by one person, for they are all mostly the same, same, same. *Yawn.*

I will admit, however, that this one had a unique method of presenting the bath linens. We had a good game of hide-and-seek.


Sigyn won. (Horns are hard to hide.)

This inn was another with a sink cake.


Sigyn, I know you were excited, but remember what I’ve told you about them. They’re not edible, no matter how good they smell.

So we checked out the inn’s actually-food offerings. Mostly the same as previous inn fare, though it did have these small round breakfasts The human female says they’re for eating with butter and honey, but Sigyn found them fluffy enough to recline on. I think perhaps this is what the Midgardians refer to as a "Bed and Breakfast."


>|: [

This confection pleases me

Sigyn and I have accompanied the humans on a short trip to another city to celebrate the birth anniversary of one of their infant friends. Apparently it is customary in this realm to observe such occasions with cake. This is a tradition I can heartily endorse! There is no such thing as too much cake.

I must confess, I have never before seen a plaid cake. I am not certain that cakes should be plaid. However, the border around the edge (Sigyn informs me that this is called "piping"– I do not know why. I don’t hear anything) is green. I approve.


I also approve of the fine old Midgardian custom known as "Licking the Bowl"

>|: [

Wait! Before you take a bite…

Sigyn, I know that the last time we were on an adventure, there was a big square cake, just this color and about this size, and it was delicious. Yes, this *is* a cake, but it is not that sort of cake. It smells of oranges, true, but I don’t think it would taste nice. Nor do I think this is a dessert sort of inn. If they didn’t put mints on the pillows, I think it is unlikely that they would serve up cake by the sink. Trust me, good cakes do not show up in bathrooms.

​>|: b

A holiday

Sigyn and I have accompanied the humans on a “mini-vacation” to another part of Midgard. The journey was long and rather boring, but we have now arrived at the home of some of their friends. (I didn’t think they had any, being such dull people.)

Luckily, the friends are *much* more interesting and hospitable than “my” humans, and they have offered refreshments. I am curious as to the components of this “earthquake cake,” which does indeed look as if it has sustained some geological catastrophe, its surface being fraught with numerous craters. Still, I am assured that it numbers chocolate among its ingredients, so I am prepared to like it.

Sigyn appears to have mistaken another of the offered treats for millinery. Dearest, it looks berry fetching* on you, truly, but I think that it is meant for eating, not wearing.

​*see what I did there? >|: [ The recipe for the cake is at:

Sigyn’s birthday

After we looked at the winecups, we had a quiet little celebration at home. I had a cake for Sigyn. We both like cake. A lot.

I looked very hard for a nice present for her. She collects glass paperweights and seemed very happy with this one. It has what looks like a clover blossom in the center. Or maybe it’s a sea creature? Either way, it made her smile, which is all I wanted.

And then *I* received a gift beyond all expectation. A thank-you hug, spontaneous and unasked for. We haven’t talked about the “wedding” we went through in order to escape whatever realm we were in weeks ago, but this lets me hope, just a bit, that the birthday wish she made includes me…

Happy Birthday, dear one.