(no subject)

[1 Hispis 4262]

I had to explain to some classmates what had been going on. There was not sufficient time or brandy to do so after class. So we went to a new restaurant for lunch -- "Cafe Potoftea" -- expecting to have tea and sandwiches or something.

But no, it's on Potoftea Street. It doesn't serve tea. Or sandwiches. It is a Herethroy restaurant, and serves beer and salad and porridge and traditional Herethroy vegetable rolls.

Me:"Fine by me."

Esory:"Me, too."

Rhedwy:"I buy a wudgeon from the excellent butcher shop we pass on this block. You get a table on the terrace. I eat this wudgeon next to your table."

Irigatur:"Wonderful. Salad for lunch, and bones being crunched on the side."

Rhedwy:"It is very important that you eat salad for lunch! You are far too plump as it is."

Irigatur:"I am not plump. I am well-rounded."

Rhedwy:"When I get a wudgeon of your body-type, I say it is plump. And I go to do so!"[stalks off]

Irigatur:"So, shall we ditch the Sleeth?"

Esory:"That would be rude, and unkind."

Irigatur:"Manners don't count, with Sleeth. And kindness? They don't even know the word."

Esory:"Manners count with me, and I know the word."

Irigatur:"You're sometimes just a bit over-fussy."

Me:"I agree with Esory, and I don't even like the Sleeth very much."

Irigatur:"Nobody likes a Sleeth. They're horrid."

Me:"They're prime."

Irigatur:"So are Khtsoyis, and I won't eat with them either."

Me:"I've eaten with worse. Yesterday."

Esory:"Which obligates you to tell us about it."

Me:"When we're at a table on the terrace, with a Sleeth at our side."

Irigatur:"Well. It had better be a good story."

Me:"It's got insane Gormoror and insane nendrai."

Irigatur:"We have come to expect the insane nendrai."

Me:"Well, today I've got two of them."

Irigatur:"I think I see why you want to cultivate the Sleeth's acquaintance. When your life becomes impossibly complicated and doomed from all these wildings and chaos monsters, Rhedwy will bless you with the coup de grace and set you free."

Esory:"Don't be horrid!"

So, we had lunch. I had an appetizer of rolled spicy leaves stuffed with creamed greens and mushrooms, battered, and deep-fried. It was quite good, actually, even if I think I ate enough greens today to be a very nice aqua color. Esory had some grain and mushroom croquets in a chocolate-tomato sauce, which was really good -- I begged two bites off of her. Irigatur had basic plue and tarrissy. Irigatur's latest wife Graha walked by while we were waiting, and joined us, and had sauteed root vegetables and deep-fried other root vegetables and steamed other other root vegetables with some tangy sauce. Rhedwy got her wudgeon, as promised.

They were suitably amused and horrified by my story. Not enough to buy me lunch, of course.

Esory:"I think you need a vacation, Sythyry."

Me:"I think I don't get one. I think I need to calm down an upset nendrai pretty soon."

Irigatur:"I think I need to stay in the city for a while!"

Rhedwy:"I think you need to stay in your chair for a while."

Irigatur:"Why is that?"

Rhedwy:"Because, if you move, even more people are able to see where Graha's hand is."

Orren are so cute when they're in a Wild Rush. I really need to date another Orren soon.

(no subject)

[1 Hispis 4262]

I had to explain to some classmates what had been going on. There was not sufficient time or brandy to do so after class. So we went to a new restaurant for lunch -- "Cafe Potoftea" -- expecting to have tea and sandwiches or something.

But no, it's on Potoftea Street. It doesn't serve tea. Or sandwiches. It is a Herethroy restaurant, and serves beer and salad and porridge and traditional Herethroy vegetable rolls.

Me:"Fine by me."

Esory:"Me, too."

Rhedwy:"I buy a wudgeon from the excellent butcher shop we pass on this block. You get a table on the terrace. I eat this wudgeon next to your table."

Irigatur:"Wonderful. Salad for lunch, and bones being crunched on the side."

Rhedwy:"It is very important that you eat salad for lunch! You are far too plump as it is."

Irigatur:"I am not plump. I am well-rounded."

Rhedwy:"When I get a wudgeon of your body-type, I say it is plump. And I go to do so!"[stalks off]

Irigatur:"So, shall we ditch the Sleeth?"

Esory:"That would be rude, and unkind."

Irigatur:"Manners don't count, with Sleeth. And kindness? They don't even know the word."

Esory:"Manners count with me, and I know the word."

Irigatur:"You're sometimes just a bit over-fussy."

Me:"I agree with Esory, and I don't even like the Sleeth very much."

Irigatur:"Nobody likes a Sleeth. They're horrid."

Me:"They're prime."

Irigatur:"So are Khtsoyis, and I won't eat with them either."

Me:"I've eaten with worse. Yesterday."

Esory:"Which obligates you to tell us about it."

Me:"When we're at a table on the terrace, with a Sleeth at our side."

Irigatur:"Well. It had better be a good story."

Me:"It's got insane Gormoror and insane nendrai."

Irigatur:"We have come to expect the insane nendrai."

Me:"Well, today I've got two of them."

Irigatur:"I think I see why you want to cultivate the Sleeth's acquaintance. When your life becomes impossibly complicated and doomed from all these wildings and chaos monsters, Rhedwy will bless you with the coup de grace and set you free."

Esory:"Don't be horrid!"

So, we had lunch. I had an appetizer of rolled spicy leaves stuffed with creamed greens and mushrooms, battered, and deep-fried. It was quite good, actually, even if I think I ate enough greens today to be a very nice aqua color. Esory had some grain and mushroom croquets in a chocolate-tomato sauce, which was really good -- I begged two bites off of her. Irigatur had basic plue and tarrissy. Irigatur's latest wife Graha walked by while we were waiting, and joined us, and had sauteed root vegetables and deep-fried other root vegetables and steamed other other root vegetables with some tangy sauce. Rhedwy got her wudgeon, as promised.

They were suitably amused and horrified by my story. Not enough to buy me lunch, of course.

Esory:"I think you need a vacation, Sythyry."

Me:"I think I don't get one. I think I need to calm down an upset nendrai pretty soon."

Irigatur:"I think I need to stay in the city for a while!"

Rhedwy:"I think you need to stay in your chair for a while."

Irigatur:"Why is that?"

Rhedwy:"Because, if you move, even more people are able to see where Graha's hand is."

Orren are so cute when they're in a Wild Rush. I really need to date another Orren soon.

(no subject)

Nil [2 Hispis 4262]

Nothing worth writing about happened today.

I am so glad of that

(no subject)

Nil [2 Hispis 4262]

Nothing worth writing about happened today.

I am so glad of that

Three Sythyrys in one day!

Bear[d]ing the Monster [3 Hispis 4262]

Vae:"Hiio!"

Me:"Hallo, Vae. How are you?"

Vae:"The bit of a fret I have on me, Sythyry."

Me:"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it about your bowl and chopsticks?"

Vae:"The yes, the very yes."

Me:"Tell me what happened?"

Vae:"The second day of the week is when I eat an egg from that bowl. The white wine for poaching it, too."

Which is entirely understandable. I gave Vae a book titled Rather Regular Rhoonef, about a Cani girl who wanted to do exactly the same things every day of the week. Rhoonef either Comes to a Bad End or is Disabused of her Ridiculous Fancies, depending on which kind of a children's book it is. I haven't read it in twenty years, and I don't remember so well. Anyone who grew up around here can recite the nine different breakfasts by heart, though: (1) toast and caterpillar jam; (2) egg poached in babywine; (3) porridge sprinkled with dried fish; and so on for two more rhyming triplets.

Me:"Do you do the whole Rhoonef cycle of breakfasts?"

Vae:"Not all; there's no caterpillar jam with me."

Me:"Want some?"

Vae:"And is it good?"

Me:"I don't like it."

Vae:"Not, then. The different jam you must bring me." In case you were wondering about the physical basis for our relationship.

Me:"I'll add that to my list."

Vae:"The peering-about I made, and ... " She started crying, with jagged bits of glass wrecking her eyes from the inside. If I cried like that, I would try not to cry so often. I do not really like the nendrai attitude towards mortal injuries.

Me:Comfort, comfort, what the snurgling feck rackle are you crying about anyways?

Vae:"And will Oixe respect me if a Gormoror brute steals my bowls? And will anyone?"

I comforted her about the head with a big spiky mace. (I have obviously been spending too much time with Gormoror and nendrai -- I shouldn't even think of a metaphor like that.) More specifically, I pointed out that:

The Situation	Vae's Response (summarized)
They probably wouldn't even know it.	They'll find out somehow.
They care about her for herself, not stupid little incidents.	Are you under the misapprehension that we're some nicey-nicey poodlemorph Cani or something?
Well, they'd care about her for her power levels and combat prowess.	Oixe handed me my ass when we fought.
OK, they'll care about how effective you are when you're full-grown and not all begoggled by meeting another nendrai the same age.	You really don't understand nendrai at all, Sythyry!
No, I really don't have a clue about nendrai. Except that I know a whole lot about what primes know about you, like I took a class in it.	Ťãỉł℉ℒįĉķ
No, I don't want those giant waves of effulgent radience flowing out of my crest...	This is interesting information which I will cherish later.
... please? ...	Bring me caterpillar jam.

I hate my job.

(But at least she's not rampaging.)

Three Sythyrys in one day!

Bear[d]ing the Monster [3 Hispis 4262]

Vae:"Hiio!"

Me:"Hallo, Vae. How are you?"

Vae:"The bit of a fret I have on me, Sythyry."

Me:"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it about your bowl and chopsticks?"

Vae:"The yes, the very yes."

Me:"Tell me what happened?"

Vae:"The second day of the week is when I eat an egg from that bowl. The white wine for poaching it, too."

Which is entirely understandable. I gave Vae a book titled Rather Regular Rhoonef, about a Cani girl who wanted to do exactly the same things every day of the week. Rhoonef either Comes to a Bad End or is Disabused of her Ridiculous Fancies, depending on which kind of a children's book it is. I haven't read it in twenty years, and I don't remember so well. Anyone who grew up around here can recite the nine different breakfasts by heart, though: (1) toast and caterpillar jam; (2) egg poached in babywine; (3) porridge sprinkled with dried fish; and so on for two more rhyming triplets.

Me:"Do you do the whole Rhoonef cycle of breakfasts?"

Vae:"Not all; there's no caterpillar jam with me."

Me:"Want some?"

Vae:"And is it good?"

Me:"I don't like it."

Vae:"Not, then. The different jam you must bring me." In case you were wondering about the physical basis for our relationship.

Me:"I'll add that to my list."

Vae:"The peering-about I made, and ... " She started crying, with jagged bits of glass wrecking her eyes from the inside. If I cried like that, I would try not to cry so often. I do not really like the nendrai attitude towards mortal injuries.

Me:Comfort, comfort, what the snurgling feck rackle are you crying about anyways?

Vae:"And will Oixe respect me if a Gormoror brute steals my bowls? And will anyone?"

I comforted her about the head with a big spiky mace. (I have obviously been spending too much time with Gormoror and nendrai -- I shouldn't even think of a metaphor like that.) More specifically, I pointed out that:

The Situation	Vae's Response (summarized)
They probably wouldn't even know it.	They'll find out somehow.
They care about her for herself, not stupid little incidents.	Are you under the misapprehension that we're some nicey-nicey poodlemorph Cani or something?
Well, they'd care about her for her power levels and combat prowess.	Oixe handed me my ass when we fought.
OK, they'll care about how effective you are when you're full-grown and not all begoggled by meeting another nendrai the same age.	You really don't understand nendrai at all, Sythyry!
No, I really don't have a clue about nendrai. Except that I know a whole lot about what primes know about you, like I took a class in it.	Ťãỉł℉ℒįĉķ
No, I don't want those giant waves of effulgent radience flowing out of my crest...	This is interesting information which I will cherish later.
... please? ...	Bring me caterpillar jam.

I hate my job.

(But at least she's not rampaging.)