Sigyn might need rescuing

The Madness Continues

Sigyn and I have returned to the market to see if any other plush horrors have manifested.

Or, rather, *I* have returned to see if any other plush horrors have manifested. Sigyn just wants to cuddle the bunnies some more, and maybe purchase some candy at last-minute prices.

This…thing…ticks my box.

And this ticks Sigyn’s.

Sigyn, I believe it is giving you what is what is known as the “hairy eyeball…”

And at least one of its offspring is becoming adept at making the same expression.

The sheep are much less judgmental and seem to have accepted Sigyn as one of the flock.

Some of the seasonal tat would actually be very useful.

With a crate of carrots this tempting, I might just catch the Eater Bunny this year.

However,some of the wares for sale are just… unnecessary.

I mean, that raises so many questions! Is that supposed to be interior or exterior decor? Is it a lantern? Why is it all cement-colored? Why is it over thirty dollars? Why is the rabbit wearing overalls and a sweater? What does it think is so funny? And most importantly, How am I going to get my sweetie out of that thing when she inevitably falls inside?

Great Frigga’s Hairpins! She managed not to fall into the concrete bunny lantern, but I suppose this was a given:

Hang on, dearest. Loki’s coming.

I may need to steer her away from less hazardous gew-gaws. I would have better luck rescuing her from this, for example:

It just screamsonly-seasonally-appropriate desk accessory,” doesn’t it? I know that if it were on my desk (which it wouldn’t be, but if it were), I would keep trying to pull its ears off to use as paperclips.

And this, inexplicable and quirky as it is, poses almost no danger at all.

And there she is, ladies and gentlemen—my sweetie on the half-shell!

While Sigyn enjoys a good look around Kitschville, if anyone needs me, I’ll be buying some Peeps and graham crackers so I can make Horror S’Mores.

>|: [

In Which Sigyn and I Escape

Sigyn and I have realized that WE don’t need to be cooped up with the human female, so we are having a stroll around the yard to see if Spring has wrought any changes.

The toothache tree has shiny new leaves and some tiny flower buds.


It’s very prickly, though, so one must dangle carefully.

The oxalis by the compost heap has been blooming for a while.


Speaking of compost heap, it looks like the All Hallows pumpkin started caving in and has been relegated to a place of ignominy.


You can look, Sigyn, but don’t touch.  It is six kinds of scary in there.

What Sigyn likes to call the “cupcake bush” is showing a few blossoms.


If you stand there, though, my sweet, the hummingbirds may not come.

The mint is back with a vengeance.  As a botanist, the human female should have known better than to plant it.  It has quite taken over the side yard.


Now the whole neighborhood smells like chewing gum every time she mows.

The tropical milkweed has started flowering in earnest.  It’s Sigyn’s favorite because of its coloring.


It is drawing some monarch butterflies and—Great Frigga’s hairpins, Sigyn!  DON’T MOVE!!  There is something long-legged and beaky on the wall behind you and I don’t know what it is!

Phew!  That was close.  I rescued Sigyn and sent her back inside to make sure the human female is actually working.

I am checking out the irises.  They usually bloom the first week in April.


Look, you stupid things, I know it’s been too warm recently, but try to stick with the program, all right?

>|: [

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…

>|: [


The Only Thing Worse Than Costumes is a Party, Part II: I Think Hieronymus Bosch Was the Party Planner

I’m trapped in this Hel of a party and I can’t seem to convince Sigyn that it’s time to leave.  Surrounded by people I can barely tolerate, no food, and only Quill’s dumb mix tape for music.  Sigh.  At least Sigyn’s having fun.

hall-party12-heres darcy

S: “Hi!  I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m Sigyn.”

D:  “Hi, Sigyn! Great flower costume.  I’m Darcy.”

S:  “I don’t recognize your costume.  Who are you dressed as?”

D:  “Hahahahah.  I came as an unpaid lab intern.  Convincing, right?”

hall-party13-whats in the briefcase

S:  “Muffy, I can’t get over what a good Pepper Potts you make.  But what’s in the briefcase?”

M: “Oh, just what every high-powered female executive carries around.  You know.”


S:  “Hee hee hee!”

D:  “Hey, little pinchy dude, want to, like, go see if there’s some melted butter somewhere?”


We seem to have been here forever.

hall-party15-chicken fighting

Still no refreshments, and the rabble have devolved into something called “chicken fighting.”  You can be sure I will ban this ludicrous practice when I take over the planet.

L: “Sigyn, can we pleeeeeeease go now?”

hall-party16-i made floam

Please examine this viscous pink substance I created in my lab.

L:  (poke, poke, poke)  “I don’t trust it.”
hall-party17-trying the flarp

H:  “Hey, guys!  You really need to try this!  It feels really neat between your toes!”

hall-party18-trying flarp

M: “It looks like a big, pink tongue, but it’s all cool and squishy…”

D:  “And it’s   s   t  r  e  t  c  h  y,   too!”

hall-party19-tony is the flarp safe

S:  “Help!  It’s got me!  Hee hee hee hee!”

M:  “Stark, this stuff had better come out of my wig…”

hall-party20-tony is here

IM: “Hey, folks!  I’m here!  The party can start now!”

CA:  “Stark!  If you’re here, then who is that there in the Dalek suit—?

hall-party21-then who is the dalek




I Spent My Anniversary Playing With Toys, Part III: A Visit to the Overland Circus

I will not lie.  I wish to be very far away from that sinister duck and that infinitely creepy pineapple.  There are several cases of circus toys on the other side of the room, my love.  Let us go over there.  What could possibly go wrong in a circus?


See?  The carousel is colorful and charming, the lion is regal, and it looks like some homemade ice cream might be on offer.

And look!  Here is one of the animal wagons, skillfully driven by a clever fellow without the use of reins!


Although–Watch out, Sigyn!  It looks as if someone forgot to latch the bear’s cage!


Run, Sigyn, run!!!

>|: o

How Much Can We Cram Into One Day? Part II: In Which We Visit Some Critters as Old as the Human Female and then Sparklies

Harrumph.  I have been dragged kicking and screaming protesting decorously from the Knights exhibit and hauled off to the Paleontology wing.  Since none of the toothy beasties figured is alive to be recruited to my cause, I find this a good deal less interesting than the glaives and billhooks of the previous exhibit.

Sigyn, I think this smiley whatsit wants to follow you home.


…and possibly eat you, so let’s not adopt it.

A human gastronome, Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin , once said, “Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are.”  This has always intrigued me.  I wonder if he really could tell that I was handsome and talented and a genius just by knowing I like roast chicken.  Of course, anyone could infer that the human female is white, bland, lumpy, and boring from her love of rice pudding, so I guess there’s that.

Paleontologists have been using that rule of thumb to help figure out what defunct animals were like and how they made their living, based on their teeth.

I have been staring at this creature for twenty minutes now, and I still can’t work out what this thing ate:


Duh.  Read the card, Loki.


Cream-filled chocolate sandwich cookies.

Moving on.

We are now looking at some of the works of the talented Mr. Faberge, who never encountered a surface he couldn’t encrust with gold, enamel, and precious stones.

Big smooth river rock?


Boom!  Match striker.

The human female is quite taken with the smoky quartz shell cup thing there, the one topped with the hippocampus.  (Why DO they call it a hippocampus when it does not look at all like a hippo and has probably never been near a university in its life?)


Sigyn and I like the little matching elephants, one red and one green.  They’re sitting on a double bell-push, a device used for summoning servants.  There!  That right there!  I need one of those for my birthday, which is coming up.  Hint, hint.

>|: [

It’s Not Easy Being Green

I know my faithful followers must think that all I do is torment the human female.  Nothing could be further from the truth!  I have plenty of mischief for the human male.  Why, just today I played a very good prank indeed!

As you may recall, the human male is quite fond of fountain pens.  He has an extensive collection of pens and an even broader range of colored inks.  Just to keep him humble, I arranged for a small gravity fluctuation in his storage area, with the result that just now there was the delightful noise of a whole box of inks falling over— and one of the bottles broke!  Now I get to laugh while he cleans up the carnage.  It was contained in the plastic box, but I imagine it is still pretty messy.  Let’s go see!

Oh, no!  Why did it have to be one of the GREEN inks?!


What a dreadful waste.


There was a bottle of Lamy ink in the box.  Lamy packages their inks with some blotting paper.  It seems to have done its job like a champ.


The ink that spilled was DeAtramentis ‘Bamboo’, though the Pelikan ‘Dunkelgrün’  box seems to have taken a hit as well.


Oh!  Here is the actual broken bottle.  Great Frigga’s corset!  There’s a huge chunk missing from the shoulder!


Why did it have to be such a lovely ink in such a nice bottle?  I hate it when my mischief backfires on me!   This might ruin my whole afternoon.


She’s trying to figure out how to get stuck in the bottle, isn’t she?

>|: [

At the Herbarium, Part I: UFFOs (Unidentified Flat Floral Objects)

My beloved and I have accompanied the human female to a place she calls the "Herbarium." At first, I thought this was going to be a place of herbs, sweetly fragrant with thyme, rosemary, and pipperjoy (which is grown in Asgard but is very uncommon on Midgard). Sadly, no. Remember all the plants we collected and smashed? This is where they ultimately end up.

There is evidently some identification work to be done today. Much as she would like to think she knows every plant out there, she so very much doesn’t. When collectors send plants they do not know the names of, the human female has to sit down and figure out what they are.

Ah. Number 533. I can tell you what this is. It’s a lump of green stuff.


The human female says part of it is a liverwort. Truly? That’s the best name you can make up? The bit with actual oblong leaves is…. something different.


She thinks it might be a species of Callitriche, but since the sample doesn’t have any fruit, she can’t be sure. That is a very good "out", blaming the identification failure on the plant and not her failing acumen. Poor old Number 533 may just have to remain unidentified.

This one is much less tiresome. It has nice, big, colorful parts.


Sigyn quite likes the red-seeded fruit. Euonymus atropurpurea var. atropurpurea. Otherwise known as Burningbush or Eastern Wahoo. Who NAMES these things?!


Sigyn, come out of those papers before you get folded away, boxed up, and left behind!

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