I’ve been so busy with condestruction and other general mayhem that I forgot to tell you about the place where we ate on our recent visit to the Comparably-Sized City to the South.
The humans have made it a point not to eat indoors in restaurants for much of the past eighteen months or so, but they’re vaccinated now and this place was far from crowded, so they decided it was safe enough.
Sigyn was intrigued by the colorful menu
There were a number of Very Fancy Drinks to be had.
The humans, being boring, chose water.
All good meals should start with spring rolls and peanut sauce, if possible.
When I take over the planet, I shall insist upon it. There is no peanut sauce on Asgard. I think that’s part of Thor’s problem, to be honest.
We’re still here with all the other folks (and dogs!), looking at all the things here that are NOT vegetables, meat, or eggs. There’s a bouncy castle over on the far end of the lot that Sigyn says she would like to try out. I know you would, my love, but the kiddies bouncing around in there right now are much bigger than you, and I’m afraid you might get hurt. But we can go look at other fun things!
Things like this:
It’s a sampler of some of the pecan varieties grown in Texas. The human female says that the last two in the bottom row are what the native pecans look like, and the others are kinds that have been bred to have bigger nuts or tastier insides or thinner shells. The University has a whole Pecan Short Course that they teach for local growers every year. Too bad this booth isn’t giving out samples of all of these. One of each kind would just about make a pie!
Sigyn has made a butterfly line (like a beeline, but squigglier) to a booth that has bedding plants.
The human female says these fancy, jumped-up daisies are Gazanias, which I think sounds like something you say when someone has sneezed. She’s going to buy a couple to put in the front flower bed, where–knowing her horticultural skills– I predict they will sit without ever making another blossom.
The human male has encountered a rather humorous boo-boo on a hand-lettered sign:
Ooh la la! Ce vendeur a de beax macarons! And they have samples! Which ones should we try? Sigyn is interested in the strawberry-rhubarb but I’m leaning towards the pistachio.
By Fandral’s grande embonpoint! Those are delicious! I think some need to come home with us…
But right now, I think we need a different treat. The day is growing rather hot and I some cold refreshment is in order. Luckily, there’s a deliciously convenient pushcart right at the end of this row of booths…
New Rule: All ice cream sandwiches should be made with snickerdoodles on the outside!
Well, Sigyn, we have visited all the booths at least once, tasted some fun things, bought some good things for dinners to come (samosas–also yum!), talked to some interesting people (the lamb lady is originally from Argentina!), and had a delicious treat. I think it’s time to go home and maybe have a little nap…
The macarons the human female bought turned out to be neither strawberry-rhubarb nor pistachio, but since lemon goes very nicely with natural vanilla bean ice cream…
I think the humans have it far too easy. I’ve been lenient lately. Time to remedy that. How muchmischief can I wedge into a single week? We are men and women of science–let’s find out!
It’s hot. It’s late. The humans don’t feel like cooking, it’s not a good idea for anyone without the constitution of a Norse god to just eat ice cream for dinner, and I certainly don’t feel like eating what the human female might cobble together out of what’s lurking in the pantry (tuna graham cracker casserole with cactus lime jelly, anyone?). It is, therefore, a good opportunity to “patronize a local small business.” That’s right–Takeout Time!
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–the humans don’t have a lot of imagination. When their deciders are broken, the fallback is usually Chinese. The male mixes his order up, but the human female usually gets one of two things every. single.time. Let’s see what they’ve brought home today…
Broccoli chicken with brown rice. Orange beef, not very spicy, sub carrots and snow peas for the broccoli, also with brown rice. That doesn’t sound too bad, and there are at least vegetables in the names. And I see the request for no plastic silverware and no soy sauce. No one wants the yucky take out soy sauce!
So how did the restaurant do? I’ve been working with their staff, and I’m curious as to whether my training is paying off.
Silverware and soy sauce, check!
Chicken and broccoli, check!
Broccoli beef, hold the broccoli, add carrots and snowpeas in an extra-leaky, non-recyclable box, check!
Two orders of brown rice, ch—
Ehehehehehe! I mean, uh oh! They only put in one. Now, the human female is unpacking the bag and has placed the carton on her own plate. Does this mean she has her rice and the male has none? Or has she filched his rice and she is without? Or is it communal rice, a little bit for each? Will they share or will they squabble?
P.S. If anyone is keeping track of items missing from takeout meals, this is chicken missing off three salads, missing salad dressing, a missing egg roll, and a missing carton of rice. If we could get all the missing items at once, we could put out a pretty good spread!
Emboldened by theirtrip 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 othergreen-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!
The humans have checked the date on the calendar and tailored tonight’s menu accordingly. Taco Tuesday falls on Wednesay this week, I guess. They are now exploring the market to ascertain whether suitable decorations might be available for purchase.
Ouch! My eardrums! Such squeeing! Sigyn has discovered that they do, in fact, have a selection of small piñatas. Sigyn loves games involving candy, and I like hitting things with sticks, so this is a notion we can both get behind.
Yes, yes. The saguaro is very cute, my love. However, even I, with my rudimentary knowledge of things cactaceous, know that it is native only to the Sonoran desert and thus not entirely appropriate for this part of Midgard.
What is this next one supposed to be?
I see gilded hooves, so maybe it’s supposed to be a burro? It’s so ugly that bashing it to death with a club is probably a mercy.
Ah, yes. Let’s celebrate Mexican victory over the French with a crispy-shelled taco, a dish developed on this side of the border.
And how challenging a piñata can a crispy taco be, anyway? In my experience, those things self-destruct the minute you touch them…
Since we are a small party, we’re unlikely to order enough to get a prize ball this visit. We shall have to content ourselves with feasting. Feasting only, Sigyn! While you got away with riding the conveyor on a previous, pre-pandemic visit, I think you should forgo that excitement today.
Snort! The human female is pretending to be health-conscious and has ordered a vegetable hand-roll.
She’s welcome to it–I think nori tastes like fish-food. I’m holding out for Fried Things. And here come some now!
Mmm. Gyoza. They’re piping hot, very crispy, and come with a nice sauce. Although, human female, I’m sure you would like this condiment even better:
It’s green. It must be good! No? Ah, you’re such a wuss.
More delicious fried goodness.
Dig in, my love. Last time, these tempura shrimp were naught but tails by the time we got any. The human female says she thinks the batter is the best part of tempura and that she would “happily eat tempura-fried air.” Oh, that gives me so many marvelous ideas…. (I bet with the legs off, praying mantises are not immediately recognizable under layers of rice flour and panko…)
The human male has snagged a cold item off the conveyor. Looks like shrimp and avocado with some sort of citrusy mayo.
Hmm. Three pieces. One for him, one for me, and one for Sigyn. Sorry, human female, you are just going to have to content yourself with that air you said you’d eat.
It is time for dessert! Sorry again, human female, there is no beany-goo filled, fish-shaped–
Great Friggas corset! The human female got her request in even before we were seated! Unfair! She’s going to sit there, smugly, feasting on donut and sweet, beany goo with ice cream and just gloat, I know she is. Do not be surprised, woman, if that fish a) drips bean goo on your shirt, b) makes you fat, or c) both.
The local market seems to have outdone itself this year in the plush department. I started to write “stuffed animal,” but, as will be demonstrated, some of these…things…are only vaguely natural-animal-adjacent.
This purplerabbit isn’t too bad…
…though he appears to have been the victim of a most unfortunate home perm. And do I detect a little excess intracranial cerebro-spinal fluid pressure? That noggin is pretty pointy.
Here’s another poor bun with curly hair (maybe it’s familial?), though this one seems to have suffered some embryonic misfortune along about when limb buds begin to form, and its coat is a rather unusual color.
This lap-eared lapin is a bit more normally proportioned and has more typical pelage,
…though his overall size suggests that there may be an overactive pituitary involved.
His cousin is of more reasonable stature, but her coat…sparkles.
Either she is suffering from the dreaded Meyer-‘pire Syndrome or is accumulating heavy metals. Time to call the vet. Or an exorcist.
This blobular chick with its lagomorphian bonnet would also seem to be suffering from the same disorder as the larger gray rabbit, or perhaps it is some other form of gigantism.
Do not poke it in the abdmen, my love. That umbilical hernia may be quite painful.
Oh, now this! This definitely says “Easter”
While I appreciate the green fur, I suspect this floppy reptile has rickets, or some other malady which prevents proper bone growth, and I am drawing a blank when trying to reconcile the notion of “Triceratops” with the vernal celebration. Then again, egg-laying rabbits would not appear to mesh well, prima facie, with either pagan or the various monotheistic faith traditions.
More disturbing than the obvious ill health of the above individuals is evidence of an emerging trend toward genetic manipulation and/or a traditional breeding program, with the apparent goal of producing hybrid monstrosities on a heretofore unprecedented scale.
I mean, how else explain this?
Or, Odin help us, this:
Tolles Friggas Korsett! Sogar Dr. Frankenstein wagte sich nicht, den Gesetzen der Natur auf diese Weise zu widersprechen. Sicherlich rollt Mendel in seinem Grab.
You may recall that toward the end of last year, I amused myself by tampering with the humans’ take out orders. First the restaurant left the chicken off the female’s salad, then they left the dressing off the male’s salad, and then they left the chicken out of both salads.
Understandably, the humans’ enthusiasm for that eatery has diminished. Instead, today they have opted to patronize one of the local Vietnamese establishments. The human female has ordered the grilled pork vermicelli dish. She likes it because it also comes with an egg roll. The egg roll is her favorite part!
Sigyn and I are still exploring the contents of the latest box. I think we are getting to what Sigyn calls the “Good Stuff.” She means the colorful things. The cute things. Things from Japan.
“Monboddo’s Hat?” What sort of name is that for an ink? I’m guessing, since there’s a purple stripe on the label, it’s a purple ink. The male already has at least ten of those, but he didn’t have this one. Is it a bluey purple or a reddish purple? I will have to spill a little so I can compare it to all the others.
Ow! My ears!
Sigyn just squeee’d loud and high enough that dogs for miles around are yelping and putting their paws over their ears. Apparently, these tiny post-its that look like notebook pages are “cute.”
All right. Now what is this thing?
Looks vaguely video-game themed, but what is it?
Great Frigga’s corset! It’s even less explicable on the reverse!
Ah. The human male says it’s a protector thingy you can put under a page in your planner or journal so that you don’t make gouges in the pages below. when you write I can see that, but does it have to have that . . . thing on it?
Now, what have we here?
My Allspeak suggests that these might be…
Stickers! The human female wanted them for her boring journal. Fruits and veggies are right up her alley, that’s for certain.
Parakeets and pansies. They’re tiny and will fit in the journal, I’ll give them that.
More “birdies”, this time with apples. The human femae’s such an apple fanatic, I can see why she wanted these.
Human female, you may have to fight Sigyn for the bunnies…