purveyor of pens

Mischief Update: Let’s Revisit Hel Week, Shall We? Part 1: Condestruction-related Items

I’m sure my many fans and minions want to know the status of all last week’s mischief projects. I thank you for your interest! I have endeavored to not let up the pressure too much, lest the humans grow complacent. I shall answer the questions I know you have.

Do the humans have a new roof yet? They do not! Roofer #4 was incommunicado until the middle of this week and was not returning calls (roofers are a bit busy right now.) He finally surfaced long enough to reassure the humans that he is “working on the paperwork” to submit to Usually Sounds Amiable, Although… In the meantime, roofer #5—who was contacted weeks ago, before the advent of roofer #4— came out to take a look. He pointed out that the humans’ current roof has something called “double felt”, whatever that is. That will make it more expensive to remove. He submitted an estimate some two thousand dollars higher than roofer #3’s, the one that USAA wouldn’t fully cover. Between hail storms and other disasters and my own stockpiling lumber and other goodies for the building of my own palace, the prices of construction materials are going through the roof (Bwhahaha–couldn’t resist!), so that the price of the project is rising by the hour and there isn’t even a firmly fixed insurance settlement yet!

But at least the water-damaged ceiling is fixed, right? It is not! The water removal equipment is gone–they picked it up on Monday, despite the fact the water-sucking folks said they’d pick some of it up on Saturday. The house is strangely quiet without two fans and a dehumidifier running around the clock. But there the work has stalled. The company charged with restoring the ceiling and carpet in the craft room, Attempts Total Involvement, or ATI for short, came out on Wednesday. Where the humans expected ceiling repair and replacement of the cutaway carpet pad and a steam-cleaning of the rest of the carpet, ATI has other notions. They’ll fix the ceiling all right, and then paint it. That, they say, will make the walls look funny, so they purpose to paint the entire room. I could have told them that the humans painted everything with the cheapest, untinted titanium white they could buy, and that the ceiling would certainly match the walls if they just used that, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping mum if it can make my day a bit more interesting and the humans’ a bit more frustrating. ATI also wants to take up the entire carpet pad, which means the room must be emptied. Everything must go–the dollhouse, all the quilt fabric, the stitching supplies, the sewing machine, multiple boxes of stuff-and-whatnot, tens and tens of linear feet of botany and art and craft books, and the bookshelves themselves, a prodigious heftage of planks and cinderblocks. There is, I hardly need point out, no place in the house to put all of this. ATI says they’ll pack it all up, but no one has the vaguest notion of where it’s going to reside for the duration. I have not offered the use of my pocket dimension, the place I stash all my goodies, so the humans will have to work something out on their own. The human female will have to pack the breakables herself. You can’t really hurt quilt fabric, but dollhouses are quite… smashable. Sigyn is most worried about the miniature lab glassware that lives on the windowsill. She’s offered to pack it up herself. I shall stand ready to rescue her should it become necessary.

What is the prognosis for the antique sewing machine, the one that got avalanched by wet fiberglass insulation? Unclear. The gentleman at the repair shop seemed entirely unfazed when given the description of what the poor thing experienced. Makes me wonder what Midgardians do to their machines that would render him so unflappable in the face of such a tale of misfortune. What nightmares has he beheld??

What about the sewing light? Did the new bulb work? Ehehehee! As of yet, there *is* no new light. The humans called on Thursday. The person who answered the phone said they’d have to speak to the person who helped them originally, and he promised to pass along a query and have him return the call. (Too many ‘he/hims” in that sentence, but you get the idea.) There has been a suspicious silence since then… It is slowly dawning on everyone just who sits on the board of Obsolete Technology Troubles…

But at least the new AC works, right? It does indeed. I find the sub-90°F temperatures indoors most salubrious and Sigyn and I no longer have to camp in the freezer. The human female sent in the paperwork for claiming the rebate from the city for installing energy-efficient equipment. The AC installer said last week that the inspector “will likely be around tomorrow,” but that didn’t happen. The human female called the AC company this week, and the AC company set up the city inspection for the next day (Tuesday). Tuesday came and went in its own desultory fashion. No inspector. The human female called the AC people, who looked into it and promised a visit from the city on Friday. Friday, of course, being the day the humans were planning a quick trip to the Big City to the South. The human male ended up going to the Purveyor of Pens with one of his friends while the female stayed home to let the inspector in. The inspector has just been, and the unit passes, but apparently the AC technicians forgot a little thingish thing that keeps a wire from rubbing or misbehaving in some other unsanctioned and undesirable fashion. The inspector helpfully left a memo as to what needs fixing:

Perfect! Clear as mud. So someone will be coming back out at an as-yet-unspecified date to crawl up into the attic once again. That wobbly pull-down ladder has never felt so loved and needed as it has in the past fortnight.

How long do you think I can s t r e t c h all of this home repair out? Should there be a betting pool? I think maybe there should be a betting pool—and one of the items should be “guess the date on which Usually Seems Amiable, Although… gets fed up with the humans and cancels their homeowner’s policy.

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Evcilleştirilmiş kümes hayvanı hakkında bazı karışıklıkların olduğu

Emboldened by their trip 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 other green-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!

Çok lezzetli bir ziyafet!

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A Boxful of Color, Part II: 나는 정말이 세트와 놀고 싶어

Sigyn and I are revisiting the colorful box of mix-your-own inks.  I was finally able to extricate Sigyn from the color-mixing beaker.  I do not understand her compulsion to put things on her head or to climb inside them, not at all.

But let us now examine what else has come with this box of inks.

Ah.  An instruction booklet.  That could be useful for people who, unlike me, do not know everything already.


There is a sample color chart card.


Hmm.  I am not sure I follow this.  Some of it seems to work, and some of it does not.  If it works like a regular crossing chart, wouldn’t emerald plus emerald equal emerald?  Instead, it’s a much bluer green…  And since when does yellow plus yellow equal gold?

While Sigyn tries to figure it out, I shall examine the color-it-yourself postcards that are included.

This one features a bridge, which, if the box is to be believed, should be colored purple.


Sigyn is intrigued by this one.  The statue appears to be wearing glasses.


I wonder if the actual statue has glasses, or if it is just drawn this way?

Uncolored line drawings just beg to be colored, don’t you think?  If some color just happened to get on these the human male would have only himself to blame, for leaving the kit lying around, right?

Let me at those droppers and beakers!

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ed. note:  For more info, see this review.  Not my review, not my blog, not affiliated, yadda yadda…

A Boxful of Color, Part I: Because Apparently a Million Colors Are Not Enough

The human male and his friend, wanting a little bit of fun in case this area gets “locked down,” made a quick dash to the Big City to the South last weekend.

Three guesses where they went, and the first two don’t count.

The Purveyor of Pens.  You are correct.  The male came back with this intriguing box.  Come, Sigyn, let us check it out.  It is certainly a colorful package.


Hmm.  A make-your-own-ink kit.  This could be amusing.


“3 Oysters”?!  Let us hope that that is some ridiculous brand name and not the contents of the box!

Inside the cardboard sleeve is a shiny silver tin.  Sigyn if you take that side and I take this one…


…I think we can manage to get it open.

This looks promising indeed!  Although why would you want to go messing about and adulterate what is already the perfect shade?


Sigyn is so excited that there is red that she hasn’t noticed the other colors yet.

The kit includes a twisty-nibbed glass pen for doing Fancy Writing.


Careful, my sweet–don’t drop that.  When you are done admiring the craftsmanship, slide the point back in its little rubber sleeve.

There are also a tiny bottle of thinner/toner and two little mixing beakers.

Oh, for the love of Frigga’s petticoats!


I can’t look. Sigyn’s managed to trap herself, hasn’t she?

Some days I really wonder about her…

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You Can’t Be Serious. Again?

The humans have rounded up a couple visiting friends are headed to the Big City to the South.  Apparently there is some left-over Yule gift money “burning a hole in their pockets.”  I wish I had know that they like that.  I’d have been happy to set fire to their entire trousers, not just the pockets.

The first few trips Sigyn and I made to the Big City to the South with the humans was new and exciting and fun.  It’s still new and exciting when we visit a museum, but when it’s just a shopping run, it’s always, always the same.  Purveyor of Pens, maybe a bookstore, and the Large Market.  Sigyn gets to play with beads, if she’s lucky. *Yawn.*  These people have no imagination.

Sigh.  I was correct.  The first stop is indeed the Purveyor of Pens.  The male is buying an EBP (Expensive Blue Pen), and the female is actually looking sidewise at a handsome maroonish one that is the same brand as the one that piddled ink all over her and her laptop.  She is also admiring one that is clear (so you can see its inky innards) with silver-colored fittings.  Too bad the nib is a medium and not a fine.  (She has her faults, but small, neat penmanship is not among them.)  But wait!  The Proprietor of the Purveyor of Pens says he can swap the nib for a finer one.  Oh, the quandary!  Oh, the moral dilemma!  Whether ’tis nobler to eschew the purchase of fancy writing implements when one already has quite the collection, or to throw caution to the wind and take the advice of the helpful friends and purchase one—or both.  There are several votes for “both.”

She is going to do it!  The greedy baggage is going to doit!  Because it writes so beautifully, she has just selected this:


And because it is itself so “pretty”, she is buying this one too:

It really is a handsome thing.  The picture doesn’t do it justice.  That blue cartridge will come out, and the pen will show whatever color she puts in it.

The other humans are still looking around.  I may as well see if there is anything here I would like.

loki green gold notebook

This little green and gold notebook is nice.  (It’s actually greener than the photograph shows, and less blue.)

loki green goldnotebook2

I could use it to write down all of my mischief ideas.  Hmm.  I’d better buy two.  I have a lot of ideas.

Now the human female is looking for “interesting” inks.  While the male always goes for dark greens, blues, and burgundies,  she likes to choose colors she thinks are more unique.

Sigyn is suggesting a bold, bright red.

sigyn red ink

Decisions, decisions.  But rather mundane.  She’s picked out two with very weird names.

Image result for ink brunch date“Brunch Date.”  This one is a pinky brown when you write with it.  She says it’s  “About the color of a cooked pinto bean.”

If you say so.  It will go in the new burgundy pen.





Image result for ink walk the dog


And this one comes out as a sort of medium olivey green, which will go very well in an antique pen she bought at her first pen show.




And it appears that two more inks will be coming home with us.

Image result for miles davis jazz blue ink"  Monteverde 90ml Fountain Pen Ink Bottle, Purple Mist

The blue goes on a bit darker but dies to the color of a summer sky.  It’s going in the clear pen.  The second goes on reddish purple and changes to bluish-purple as it dries–Sigyn thinks it is fun to watch.

Are we done yet?  We’ve been here forever.  Enough ink!  I demand lunch!

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These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part II: Finally, Some Merchandise to Fit My Needs

As I suspected, our first stop in the Big City to the South is the Purveyor of Pens.  This is where the humans and their bachelor friend will spend an interminable amount of time sampling inks, trying out pens they can afford, trying out pens they can’t afford and shouldn’t be messing with, and abandoning Sigyn and me to entertain ourselves while they dither and dawdle.  Come on, people!  How many scribing tools does one mortal need?

Hmmm.  I have discovered something on one counter which, while not pen-related and not actually for sale, is certainly something I could use.

I really, really like this sign.

houston mini-trip-dromgooles1

No, wait!  I want this one!  When I take over Midgard, I will have this sitting, front and center, on my enormous desk, right near where supplicants must stand.

houstin ini-trip-dromgooles2

Right over the trap door into the dungeon…

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Sigyn and the Tiny Shinies

Our second stop in the Big City to the South is Spice Shop Number Two.  We have managed to secure a parking spot right in front of the establishment!

Which appears to have been de-establishedSo sorry, human male!  Looks like you will have to order your urfa chilies online from now on.  You will have to console yourself with a trip to the Purveyor of Pens, which is fortuitously just in the next block.

Sigyn and the human female are taking this opportunity to have a good snoop in the bead shop which is next door to the defunct spicery.

Now, keep in mind the human female does not need any more beads.  She has bags and boxes and jars and strings and hanks of beads.  She and Sigyn must be part magpie, though, because it has taken them approximately ten seconds to dive into the broken- strand bin and start swimming.



Though I saw to it that they did not emerge with the bronze-colored jump rings the human female initially entered the store for, they have emerged with quite a haul.  There are three strands of faceted beads with the matching larger beads that they had to sift the loose beads for.


I heard the human female counting to fifty and muttering something about “decades”.  I can only assume that that is how long it’s going to take her to actually finish the project.

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Of Pens, Panic, and Noodles

No visit to the Big City to the South would be complete without a visit to the Purveyor of Pens.  The human male and his friend (who has accompanied us on this jaunt) are busy debating the merits of various inks and pens.  I’m not terribly interested in such and am amusing myself by mixing up all the jars of pre-filled pens so that each has three or four different kinds, none of which correspond to the label.

Sigyn is enjoying the fresh flowers that the proprietors tend to have.


Now she has wandered toward the uncharted territory that is the back of the store.  Looks like she is making some new friends.


Not sure what those bearded geezers are doing in a pen shop.  Perhaps they are hear to buy nibs.

(Later:)  The humans have finally finished buying more scribing supplies than anyone could possibly need.  Since it is lunchtime, they have decided that we should check out the eating establishment across the street.  Looks like we can easily place our orders and get a table and


Now the brainless female has run back to the pen store and searched by the flowers and has not found her–and is panicking, and rightfully so!  If my beloved has been kidnapped is in any other way harmed in the slightest, I will make the human female’s short, miserable, mortal life even shorter and much more miserable.

The human female has returned, despondent, to the noodle house.  Luckily, one of the party at our table has a brain.   All it takes is my pointing out to the female that she has, in fact, got a photo of Sigyn talking to those skeezy pixies.  Back she runs, and yes, there Sigyn is, singing little songs with them and not at all aware that she has sent three mortals and one Jotun into heart failure.

I think we all need some hot noodles as a restorative.


Ah, here’s our order.  Lemongrass chicken vermicelli bowl.  Looks good.


Fun fact:  The word “vermicelli” is based on a root meaning “worms.”  Watch me change the human female’s vermicelli into the real thing mid-mouthful.

Now that’s a face.

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The Mini-est of Breaks, Part III: Pens and Pastry

You would think that the humans had eaten as much as they possibly could, but no! The human female and the blue-haired god-daughter have decided to take advantage of this rare trip to the Big City to the South to try out a highly-touted pastry shop.  Let us join them, Sigyn.  There is always room for puff pastry.

It’s a very fancy, Frenchy bakery.  Even the little buildings on the tray have teeny little French signs.


The human female, while tempted by the almond cake with apricots or pears, has opted for something she calls “stroodle.”  That sounds like plumbing backing up!

Oh, I see.  It’s just fancy apple pie.  Sigyn, you’ll like that.  (I am over being jealous of apple cake and apple-cake makers.  Mostly.)


The blue-haired god-daughter is endeavoring to eat a cream puff roughly the size of her fist.  It’s very squishy.


I don’t know whether to help her eat it or to just flop on it and have a bit of a postprandial nap.

The human male and the friends have ended up down the street in the premises of the Purveyor of Pens and we have now joined them. The human male is looking for inks and the female is just poking.

I am still looking for the perfect green ink.


Sigyn, of course, wants red.


Ehehehehehe!   Some of the ink and pen-cleaner labels are miniature works of art.


Volstagg’s triple chin!  Look!  The friendly proprietors have set out pizza, cake, and some wildly decorated doughnuts!


The females could have skipped the pastry and had their sugar fix here!  (But breakfast cereal on a doughnut?!  Who does that?)

Ehehehehe–the human female has tried a cute little fountain pen–and I made it leak on her!  Yes, we’ve been here before, and yes, the human female has come away with inky fingers before, but it still makes me giggle every time.

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