look what I did

Didn’t we do this already? Part III: Bored now.

So the Biology Nerds in the Woods Festival is now open. The Plant Team’s table is all set up. Let the crowds come!

Any moment now.

Stiiiill waiting.

Here come some— No. Sorry! Just more volunteers.

Well, well, well. It appears that the humans have done a monumental amount of work for a pitiful turnout from the public. Before you ask, no, I’m sure the fact that I helped various organizations schedule a dozen other events going on all over town today has nothing to do with it.

Now we must amuse ourselves while we wait for visitors to show up. Sigyn is playing with the hand lens.


Ehehehehe! You look funny! My turn! Human, hold the lens and let me try.



That was fun! What else can we do? I see we have crayons. Crayons are acceptable. Last year I made a pink leaf rubbing. Green. I need green. Green is better.


The human female, though extremely sloppy about most things, is very “sensitive to color.” She is completely unable to resist the urge to herd the box of mixed up crayons into some semblance of spectral conformity.


It’s a sickness. Still, I must admit that the green ones do look best all grouped together.


Sigyn, of course, prefers the other end of the lineup.


Wow. Look how bright it is outside the tent! The sun has come out, and it is really warming up out there. Warm enough, say, to turn a rainbow of crayons into a puddle of waxy goo…

Nudge, nudge, roll, shove.

>|: [


Once again, Sigyn and I are traveling with the humans. They have chosen to stay at the most confusing inn I have ever encountered. Take, for example, this door near the lift.


Believe it or not, I did not do this. And what do you make of these instructions for egress in “the unlikely event” of fire? I shall give you a moment to ponder it…


1) Relative to the room in which we are staying, the map is upside down. 2) Room number 221 has been magically transported to the third floor. (Again, I did not do it.) And 3) The helpful “you are here” dot seems to suggest that we are standing in the parking lot, no doubt watching as the inn goes up in flames. (The map assumes one has managed to find the stairs, which I was unable to locate.)

Like the last inn we stayed at, this one has provided an adequate breakfast, though not one befitting the future ruler of Midgard. It does, however, feature a machine which makes a breakfast in the shape of this state. See what I cooked:


I have used my magic and my (grudgingly) acquired knowledge of this state to create a precipitation map. Note the plump, perfect eastern portion and increasing scantiness as one moves westward. The Plains and Panhandle are experiencing a drought, while the Trans-Pecos in the far west has had a bare 1.5″ of rain so far this year and scarcely registers at all. Sigyn is inspecting Galveston Bay in the compartment to her south.

Can we go home now?
>|: [


The botany expedition that the human female dragged us on yesterday turned out to be a whole Biology Fair. The tent with the snakes and lizards was much less boring than the plant tent. (I always seem to get along well with snakes, though Sigyn was a bit apprehensive.)

The plant booth had pictures for small people to color and dead, dry leaves for them to make rubbings of. This is a curious activity. Mulch and compost as art? We don’t do this on Asgard. We don’t have crayons on Asgard, either. Asgardian children draw and paint, certainly, ​but little wax sticks that break easily? No. All in all, it seems rather pointless to delineate a leaf’s veins after they have ceased to function and then hang the result on the refrigerator.

Still, I think I did a fine job, much better than the sticky little beings who merely scribbled.