Renee Raudman rocks. 🙂
I was too hasty with my allergy blaming. Apparently, I have a cold, which makes me a little wonky. Now I have to be very careful I don’t write something completely weird like wereferrets or something. Or weredolphins. Oh wait, too late. In my defense, there is a historical precedent. See? I didn’t make this up.
I read a really dense text yesterday on Old Iranian dragonslayer myths and they had a dragon so large, that when it opened its mouth, the hero saw bodies stuck between its teeth. How about that?
Kirsāsp tells Ohrmazd that there was a horned dragon (Pers. aždahā-ī), swallowing men and horses, which has teeth as large as his arm, ears as large as fourteen nmt’s, eyes as large as a chariot, and a horn as large as a šʾk (Pers. haštādaraš “eighty ells”). He ran after it (pad pušt hamē tazīd; Pers. bar pošt-e vey “on its back”) for half a day until he caught up with its head, struck his mace at its neck and killed it. The Persian Rivayat adds that when he looked into its mouth he saw men hanging from its teeth, a feature which the Pahlavi Rivayat reserves for Gandarəβa/Gandarw.
Azdaha were no joke. The aforementioned Gandarw lived in a mythical primordial lake from which all rivers and lakes take their beginning. Not much is known about this dragon, except that he apparently had yellow heels. I wonder why that was such an important detail. I mean if I were describing Godzilla, the color of his heels wouldn’t be the first thing I would mention.
I know we are behind on Sweep in Peace. I am sorry. We just dumped a bunch of crazy stuff on Kate and Curran and it’s eating my brain. I am kind of my own this week, because Gordon is doing taxes. But here is a small unfinished snippet of SiP.
Orro raised his head to the sky, opened his mouth, and let out what could only be described as a primal yell. Since he was holding a butcher knife in one hand and a sharpening stick in the other, the effect was very dramatic.
“Is he always like this?” Gaston asked me quietly.
“I think so.”
Orro stood frozen, seemingly lost to his despair.
I counted in my head. One, two, three…
Orro turned to me, his eyes intense. “How long?”
“You have to delay the banquette for an hour to account for the otrokari celebration,” I said.
Orro swung his stick and the knife. “I have fish. Delicate fish. I have souffle. I have… I can do one hour. But no more!” He waved the knife for emphasis. “No more. Not one minute, not one second, not one nanosecond, not one attosecond more.”
I left the kitchen, Gaston in tow. I had a feeling George assigned him to me just in case, because he has been following me for the last hour.
I stepped in the front room, where George and Jack sat on the couches.
“Attosecond?” Gaston asked.
“I’m guessing it’s a very, very small fraction of a second.”
“One quintillionth of a second,” George said, without raising his head from his reader.
Jack pondered him. “Have you started memorizing random crap again to amuse yourself?”
“No, I’m connected to the wireless,” George said. “I googled it.”
Just in the interest of future research for the sequel to BURN FOR ME, do people in Houston get the kind of allergies Austinites deal with? Because I have to tell you, I never had allergies before we moved here. The first year of cedar pollen wasn’t too bad, the second was worse. I am in my fourth year now, and I walk around the house explosively sneezing.
And it’s not just a cutesy little sneeze either. It’s the OMG, shots fired kind of sneeze. I actually have to turn away from the keyboard every time my nose itches just in case. I feel like I need to tape tissue boxes to the walls at regular intervals just to be on the safe side.
In the animal news, we might have to shave Tulip. Tulip had a rather nasty accident when using her litter box, which resulted in Tulip needing to be washed. Tulip extremely disliked being washed. I mean, extremely. She didn’t scratch or bite me, but she did take off like a rocket after I was done and I wasn’t able to brush her. She has mats under her chin and on her side, and I can’t brush them out. Her brother is the same way – he mats if the wind blows the wrong way – which is why he gets brushed every morning like clockwork. He will occasionally even bring his comb over. It’s adorable.
I tried cutting Tulip’s mats with scissors and my success was very limited. Which brings me to my point: there is one groomer that handles cats in this area. They have a month-long wait and when I called, I got a whole big dose of snooty. I am thinking of asking the vet. They would have to sedate her anyway, because Princess Tulip does not suffer foolishness.
No foolishness, human. Now bring me treats while I rule the house from this chair.
On another note, I am the worst picture taker in history. All my photos come out blurry despite ridiculously good camera on my phone. I’d like to get a dedicated camera, but I don’t know what to get. I remember a few years ago I had a really cool Fujipix, I think, that took awesome pictures, but after it finally died, the next Fujipix I bought was a fail.
Chaning Tatum with funny ears on magic roller skates fighting dinosaur with wings. Sean Bean does NOT die! Mila Kunis hits dude with a metal pipe. Big! Shiny! Boom! Explosions! Funny! Ruthless! Over the top… Go. Go and have fun. Go. It is crazy and wild and it didn’t make sense in a couple of […]