poke poke poke

Loki Takes New York, Day 7: The Human Female Has Gone Walkabout

The human male’s knee is bothering him even more today, because he didn’t take it as easy as he should yesterday.  The human female, who I suspect has NO nurturing instincts whatsoever, rather than stay at the hotel to take care of him, has gotten it into her head to explore some of the outer reaches of the city on her own.  Apparently she wants to look at places in some book she read.

As hare-brained as that notion is, I actually like this plan.  Divide and conquer.  If I tag along, I can annoy her without the human male interfering.  And maybe I can get her good and lost.  That would be fun!

So here we are, on the 7 train headed for one of the eastern bouroughs.  Sign has joined us because she heard the female talking about a garden.  “Garden” is the magic Sigyn word.  It works even better than “please.”

We have arrived.  But where are we?  Mortal, are you sure we are in the right city?  And not in some foreign country?  I can’t read any of the signs!  (Well, all right.  That one down there says, “pharmacy,” but what about the others?!)

day7-queens

There are a number of fruit sellers, and on this blazing hot day, their succulent wares are quite tempting, but again, I can’t read what anything is.  Those look like watermelons, but who knows what’s inside?

day7-queens-chinatown

I think the human really may be lost.  She has been standing on the street for a quarter of an hour now, alternately checking the map on her phone, the file of landmarks on her phone, and the “you are here” signpost on the sidewalk.  (Of course, it doesn’t help that I magicked the sign on the post so that it has north at the bottom.)  It’s gonna take her a while to figure it all out.

Rats and hurrah!   She has discovered my little trick and correctly oriented herself (boo!), but she has achieved her destination and Sigyn is happy.

day7-QBGmap

This place is rather pretty for a site that used to be an ash and slag heap.  You see what can be done with a little effort, mortal?  This should fire you up and go home and do something with that disgrace you call a “garden.”

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There is a quaint little bridge over a tiny waterfall.  It feels very good to be in the shade after traipsing about and riding the subway all day.

day7-bridge

The calendar is suspended somewhere between spring and summer.  Sigyn calls this “spiraea-dangling season.”

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And if you can’t find spiraea, fringe-tree will do.

day7-QBG-fringetree

I cannot decide which is more photogenic, this pale-flowered sweet shrub…

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… or my beloved Sigyn.

Sigyn is wishing that peonies would grow back in Texas.

day7-QBG-peony

Sorry, beloved, there are some things even my magic cannot achieve.

We might be able to do something about roses, though.  This is an inspiring collection.

day7-QBG-roses

Well, how rude!  Some group of wealthy mortals has rented out a good portion of this garden for a private party!  The temporary “no entry” signs are almost as annoying as their loud rap “music.”  For depriving my sweetie of the opportunity to enjoy the entirety of this place, I think they will now find that the wedding cake is actually frosted styrofoam and the punch has salt instead of sugar

(later)  After much walking and more time spent on the subway (which is not actually subterranean this far from city center) and some more walking, we have now reached one of the other places the human female has read about.

The International Night Market springs up each Saturday evening like a toadstool after rain.

day7-QNM

No one gets in ahead of official opening time when this gorgon is on guard duty!

At last it is time to wander in.  Various morsels and concoctions are filling the air with delicious aromas.  We could, if we chose, dine on octopus balls or shark sandwiches.

Sigyn has elected to try this arepa instead, apparently because she thinks the word is fun to say.  “Arepa.”  “Arrepa.”  “Arrrrepa!”   Good for r-rolling practice, if nothing else.

Sigyn, what even is this?!  poke, poke, poke.  I don’t trust it. 

day7-QNM-arepa

(nibble.)  Ah.  It is a corn griddle cake of some sort, topped with a crumbly, tangy cheese.  Not bad, but not very satisfying if one has a craving for meat.  I think I saw a grilled steak booth in the last row…  I shall return.

We have now looked at all the food booths and browsed in the wares that are for sale.  We are hot, tired, and ready for a cool shower.  Sigyn, let us teleport back to the inn and leave the human female to slog her way back to the train station, endure a lengthy cross-town ride, and then slog from the train station back to the room.

Then, when she does some of the accumulated laundry in the inn’s washroom, I’ll see to it that the dryer stops after five minutes and eats up aaaall her quarters…

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With Moo-moo Here and a Moo-Moo There

The human female is always complaining about the quantity and quality of junk email she receives.  Subscribing her to various mailing lists is one of my chief joys.

Recently I learned that the Purveyor of Dead Things also sells a line of farm and livestock products, so I signed her up for all of those announcements.  She tried to go to the website and update her mailing preferences, but one has to have an account with the PODT to do that.  She doesn’t actually have one, believe it or not.  She just gets mail from them because she hosts the Dead Cat Ballet and orders so much dead seafood paella every year.  She wrote to them and said, “Please–only mail about educational materials!”  That little missive has apparently gone unheeded.

So now she is getting daily mail like this:

nasco1

N,o, no, no, NO, NO!  The human female does not NEED any appetite boosters!  She shovels away plenty already!  The calm-but-not-groggy thing might be good, though.  She sure is quick to fly off the handle ad slow to wake up in the morning.

Nasco2

I…guess?  I think this may be pork-steering and pig-sticking products.  I know that I prefer dealing with the human female from a distance.  Having something to poke and jab at her from beyond arm’s-length could be very useful!  And being able to stab her with needles from across the room would be AWESOME!  Domestic pigs come pretty large, I hear, so I’m reasonably sure she would fit in the Heavy Duty Shorty Hog Holder.  Very well—I am sold.

nasco3

The human female is quite fond of earrings and has quite a collection.  She might even welcome a pair or two of these, and it would certainly make it harder to lose her in a crowd!  (I don’t care if she strays, but the human male would probably be sad if she wandered off or got herself rustled.)

goat blanket

Well, it is getting on to the warm part of the year…  Bet they have one in her size.

Now…  Where is the credit card?

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I Require Sustenance!

All of this museuming and fabric-fondling (not to mention Sigyn-rescuing) has given me an appetite.  I demand to be fed!

Well, that worked better than I hoped.  We are going out to dinner!  The human female’s sister insists that that was always the plan. Suuuure it was.

We are now seated in a place called Haji’s.  It is a smallish place, part store, part cafe. The menu seems to feature cuisine from some other part of the planet.

hajis1

Falafil.  Shawerma.  Tabooooli.  I have no real idea what these are.  Some of the words are just fun to say.

Mmm.  It certainly smells good.  What do you think, Sigyn?  Chicken grilled on a skewer and some salady bits?

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The human female’s mother has ordered a mixed plate of nibbly things–stuffed grape leaves, some of the falafil balls, some beige stuff, and some green stuff.

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(poke, poke, poke)  I don’t trust it.

The food has all come with a shaker of spice to sprinkle over the top.

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Sigyn dearly wants to climb inside to have a taste and no doubt need rescuing, but in this case, the screw top is a powerful barrier.  No rescuing needed!  We can enjoy our feast in peace.

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Nobody Feels Like Cooking

It’s funny how that happens a lot around here.  Instead of banging about in the kitchen, making something someone (not I!) will have to clean up after, we are trying one of the new eating establishments in town.  The human female says she likes to support local, non-chain businessesI say there’s a reason she had to buy larger undergarments.

There are a number of new eateries just north of the campus.  Parking is a nightmare.  While the human male is grumbling, “Really, City?  You thought the way to encourage new businesses is to install parking meters?!” I am quietly pocketing the kickback I get for suggesting the meters to the City Council.

Well, rats.  The human male has found a free place to park.  (I will just have to steal change out of his pockets.)

The food in this place is a mix of Mediterranean and “healthy” things.

I am not sure what this is.  It is certainly very… fluffy.

zoes-kitchen1

I figure either it is a Paper Salad, or there is a LOT of lettuce on that wrap.

My sweetie sure does love her greens.  I like the color more than the taste of chlorophyllous foliage, so I’ve started in on the flatbread.

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That, at least, I recognize.

I’m still not sure what this is.

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(poke poke poke) Oh.  There we go.  Inside the bread, under the greens, behind the tomato, covered in sauce, is some grilled chicken.  This is a rabbit’s version of a gyro sandwich.   Sigyn is happy.

I think I’d rather eat the rabbit…

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At Last, At Last, At Last…, Part III: Let’s Move

Aaaand… Now we’re back to the bright flowers.  This vine is one of Sigyn’s absolute favorites.  I believe she is physically incapable of passing it without stopping for a dangle.

lonicera

The labels on it in the nurseries always say, “Gorgeous native plant!  Attracts hummingbirds!”  They need to add, “Attracts humming Sigyns, too!”

The eyes have it!  This blue-eyed grass is a delicate thing (though it still towers over my beloved), not really purple and not really blue.  The human female says it is a member of the iris family.  Since I don’t care enough about plants to study taxonomy, I can neither prove nor disprove this statement.  Sigyn hasn’t squeaked in outrage, so it may be right.

sisyrinchium

It is time to go.  Sigyn is reluctant, but I hear lunch calling me, so I am fine with leaving.

Odin’s eyepatch!  What now?  The human female has stopped the car and is standing on the side of the road, gazing longingly.  What has caught her scattered fancy this time?

Ah.  Just enjoying the view.

sadlynotforsale

It doesn’t properly show in the photo, but the large front yard is a mass of bluehats and something yellow.  It is a lovely house and has a “For Sale” sign.

Sigyn and the human female haven’t stopped exclaiming about the flowers and sniffing the air and mentally clearing out the current house, putting it up for sale, and moving to this one. While they ponder where and how they could come up with the money— and figure out that the sign is for the lot next door and not the house— I will snoop around a bit.

Hmm.  Right next to the human female…

pokeants

Poke, poke, poke.  Hello, my fiery little minions!  When was the last time you had a tasty human to bite?  There is a nice plump one right over here…

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Uh, Oh. This Looks… Familiar

Thud!

Sigyn, are you all right?

My magic performed flawlessly in that it carried us well away from the all my least favorite relatives and nemeses, but I’m not sure where Sigyn and I have ended up.

Looking around, I don’t see any buildings or recognizable landmarks.  Sigyn, can you see anything?

barren

We seem to have landed in a desolate, barren wasteland.  Nothing for it but to walk until we find some shelter or someone who can tell us where we are.

Dirt, rocks, dirt, rocks, more dirt, more rocks.   Sigyn is oohing and ahhing at the one tiny bit of green vegetation in sight.   I don’t want to dampen her enthusiasm, but if we don’t find some shelter and something to eat and drink, we may not last very long out here.

walking-green plant

(later)  Well, the the terrain has changed.  There is now some sparse grass, and we have just stumbled upon this strange, fluted tree.

cactus

(poke, poke, poke.) I had the idea of tapping it in the hopes of getting a little water, but all I got was a little bitter white fluid.

(later)

The terrain has changed again.  We have come upon a dry forest full of small, prickly trees.  They look… familiar.

Oh, by Heimdall’s pointy helmet and Odin’s crappy depth perception, I think I know where we are.  I think my magic teleported us to the same treacherous, insane universe Sigyn and I ended up in after our disastrous first date four years ago.

uncomfybed

I’m sorry, love.  But we made it out of here last time, and we’ll make it home again this time.  I promise.

Now, do you want to sleep in a tree or nestle down here on the forest floor?

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to be continued…

Off To A Delicious Start

The Midgardians with whom I live believe that whatever one does on the first day of a New Year is what one will continue to do for the rest of the year.  They are taking no chances on going hungry in 2018, so we have all gone out for lunch.

The weather is gray and very wintry, so something warm would be welcome.  This place is known for its wood-fired pizzas, salads, sandwiches, and soups.

Sigyn has other ideas.

BlueBake-menu

If you are very good, my love, you may have a treat afterwards.  We need to get you some proper food first.

Great Frigga’s Corset!  Sigyn, if you begin the year by needing to be rescued — in this case, from the menu rack — what does that bode for the rest of the year?

BlueBaker-menu holder

Come, we can play with these crayons while we wait for our food to be ready.  They have both our favorite colors.  Plus orange.

BlueBaker-crayons

Ooooh!  Look at this!  Piping hot Southwestern green chile cheese soup!  Just the thing for a frigid winter day.  And see how clever!  The very bowl is made of bread.  You can eat the dishes!  (I would not recommend that with other sorts of dinnerware; you would probably not like the results.)

(poke, poke, poke) The crust is very good, but the best bit’s the soft part in the middle.

BlueBaker-soup aftermath1

Evidently the human female thinks so, too.  She has managed to eat mostly just the inside.  Behold the sourdough wasteland.

BlueBaker-soup aftermath

I think I will fill up my pockets with crumbs, take them home, introduce them to the human female’s bed, and get her New Year off to a scratchy, itchy start.

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