Natural Disasters Edition

Well, so there's a hurricane.  Exciting, right?

At the first signs of severe weather, Alfredo ordered the entire local chapter evacuated into the closet to wait out the storm, ambassadors and all. This isn't actually a sign that he's an alarmist so much as a practical matter; Alfredo may be neurotic, but he rarely panics.  His objective was mostly to ensure that everyone kept away from the windows and stayed in one place, so that the more easily scared animals - Plouie, Cami, Angel Joe - were neither staring at scary weather nor being tortured with it by animals made of sterner stuff.  He did let Rusty watch for just a little bit, though; Rusty loves storms.

Several hours after the evacuation, I discovered that Murchison wasn't in the closet.  Whether he stayed behind on his own initiative or Alfredo's is not clear; he's not saying.  I persuaded him to move further back from the windows, anyway.

So Very Aesthetic

AJD and I are still obsessed with the aesthetics of black-and-white contrasts... and now we have a zebra to add to the mix.  Ergo, when AJD caught Murchison talking to Quixley the other day, he seized the opportunity to summon Magick for a photo op, and here you are:

Imagine Murchison and Magick, charging towards each other full speed, neither intending to deviate from the inevitable collision.  They run into each other and BAM! both of them are instantly annihilated, but a zebra is created.  

Yes okay that's very silly, but, you know.

And Now For Something Completely Aesthetic

As you may recall, I really like black-and-white contrasts.  AJD spotted another good one the other day.

In addition to its aesthetic value, this picture adds to the perpetual mystery of exactly what is going on between Murchison and Magick.  Magick looks like he's bodily trying to keep Murchison away from something here, and we've been unable to determine what that may have been.  Both of them, of course, played innocent and dumb when queried.  They made up some story about Magick politely grooming Murchison's back as cats are wont to do.  Slickly told - they're both professionals - but we're not sure we buy it, given the source.

Our Tribute to Swan Lake

The Pennsylvania Ballet's production of Swan Lake closes later today.  This is my favourite ballet, and I have a subscription, so there was no way I wasn't going.  I went to the matinee.  It wasn't perfect - I really wish they'd cast someone else as Odette/Odile - but the choreography was awesome, the Prince was great, and there were a lot of really neat things about the production overall (e.g. the character dances, particularly the Russian; the stuff with the mirror; Odile's tutu; the demise of Rothbart).

There's a primary opposition in Swan Lake between white and black, with the lead female dancer playing the dual role of the white swan and the black swan.  Since this is both generally and specifically awesome, the denizens of the Wild Republic have put together an honourary tribute to Swan Lake by playing up the various possibilities for black/white contrasts.

Here we have Cami and Vim, artistically arranged.

There are multiple contrasts going on there, of course, besides just the black/white: feline/ursine, patterned/solid, shy/rambunctious, and so on.

Then here we have me with our two men of mystery, Magick and Murchison.

This is in fact exactly what I wore to the ballet today, although you can't see the black rosettes in my hair in this picture.  Slightly more of what was going on with my hair can be seen in this picture of me and Magick:

and this one of me and Murchison:

My belief that I am one of the least photogenic people on this planet has not changed, but this deficiency doesn't bother me as much as it used to.  Just to prove it, here's one of me without the boys.

When Murchison Met Magick

Although we're understanding the institutional details of the Wild Republic more and more all the time, there are still a number of aspects of it that AJD and I don't really understand.  The arrival of the new delegation from the Wild Parliamentary Monarchy has only highlighted some of these deficiencies in our understanding.

Near the top of our list is Murchison.

Murchison is an arctic fox and a secret agent of some sort; apparently most arctic foxes go into espionage.  When you think about it, this doesn't make all that much sense: how can your secret agents possibly be effective if everyone knows about them?  Murchison isn't undercover here, but surely he can't truly be undercover anywhere, right?  And what exactly is he doing, anyway?  We know he's up to something, something beyond merely being highly suspicious of Sir Tristan, but we haven't a clue as to what it is.

Now that the new delegation is here, we're even more intrigued, because the new delegation includes Magick, and Murchison is very clearly interested in Magick.

To be fair, everyone is interested in Magick.  Magick is an interesting character.  We're not certain, for instance, what exactly his role in this delegation is supposed to be.  He's a peer's heir and not precisely expendable, yet he's clearly known more than his fair share of danger; Pedro is apparently always having to patch up unusual and unexplained wounds for him.  Some of these are probably from duels (Magick's been in so many duels he's lost count) or from escaping from ladies' bedrooms (Magick's taste in women often runs towards the inappropriate), but he's definitely up to something and neither of us is certain what that is.  We suspect, from what Angel Joe has let slip, that Magick was given this assignment after a particularly ill-advised liaison with a married noblewoman necessitated sending him somewhere out of trouble (though Sir Tristan probably had a hand in that too), but that doesn't help to elucidate what his assignment actually is.  From his general attitude, one would be forgiven for thinking him primarily a bodyguard for Sir Theo and Lady Faraday, except that his rank precludes his accepting such a menial station.

We suspected that the meeting between Murchison and Magick would be epic.  Murchison, we know, has been rather bored here for some time; Magick is probably the answer to any number of his prayers.  Naturally he'd have heard of someone of Magick's storied reputation.  Nor were we disappointed, either; they met and promptly made it clear that they're going to be keeping an eye on each other.  Conceivably, this is evidence in favour of a theory making Magick Murchison's WPM equivalent.

Here they are, staring each other down.  They both wanted to make it clear that they are in no way intimidated by the other, and that even though Magick is here on a diplomatic mission, neither of them is letting down his guard.

I'm particularly fond of this picture for two reasons: I have always appreciated the aesthetic quality of a good black-and-white contrast; and this is the only picture we have of Magick that really shows him off, since photographing someone that black turns out to be hard.  Look at that gorgeous silhouette.

Here's the thing, though: we have reason to suspect that there's more to the relationship between Murchison and Magick than meets the eye.  We suspect, for instance, that this was not their first meeting, although it's difficult to articulate where this notion comes from.  We also wonder if they're less adversaries than they appear to be.  Consider this picture of the two of them in an unguarded moment:

Murchison appears to be whispering in Magick's ear.  Is he issuing a threat, or are the two of them in collusion over something?  Do they meet up in Bombay for friendly chess matches with lots of witty banter and then get back to being nemeses?  Are they secretly allies?  We'll have to keep an eye on them.

The Wild Republic Reacts to the Season's First Snowpocalypse

This is a very special post for me: it's the first one to include pictures.  (AJD is the one to thank, because it's his camera.  But I'm the one who took them, so he's not responsible for their obvious lack of photographic expertise.  Photography is not one of my talents.)

Over the weekend, we were treated to our very first major snowstorm of the winter, about a foot in all.  The snow appears to have stopped, but the wind continues to be very impressive; we're scheduled for gusts of up to 40 mph all day, maybe into Wednesday.  Apparently this is the first time in a century that we've had so much snow in a strong La Nina.  Last year we had like four or five big storms like this (though less windy), which led AJD to coin the term "snowpocalypse".  We have decided to stay inside and not go anywhere for a few days.

Naturally, with animals from so many diverse climates, opinions in the Wild Republic are sharply divided over whether the snowpocalypse is good or not: the animals from warm climates are horrified, but the animals from cold climates are delighted.

Last year, we ended up putting all of the cold-climate animals in the windows downstairs so that they could look out at the shovelled walks (which make the piles of snow seem higher) and feel at home.  We haven't moved them downstairs yet, although we still might, but they made a beeline for the windows in AJD's room as soon as the snow started to get serious.

Here you can see Murchison, Flurry, and Vim staring happily down at the snow-swept sidewalk.

The Ice Age animals had a similar idea, but they picked a different window, the one that is partially covered with ice on the bottom.  That's Mimsy, the mammoth, on the left; Gus, the glyptodon, is on the right, but you can't see him so well.  (Mammoths tend to unintentionally take up a lot of space.)

The rest of the animals decided that the thing to do, when faced with a blizzard, was to have a Jingo.  What, you ask, is a Jingo?  Basically, it's a sort of party that warm-climate Wild Republicans throw to distract themselves from the snow.  The idea is very simple: you run around and around in circles, get massively overheated so that you don't notice how cold it is, and then pass out from exhaustion and sleep for a while.  I suspect alcohol may also be involved.

Between the winds and the Jingo, poor AJD didn't get any sleep last night at all.  He's been awake for almost twenty-four hours now.

The aftermath of a Jingo resembles a massacre.  To give you an idea, I have pictures from two different angles.

It looks kind of like a massacre, right?  Or maybe an orgy?  But no, it's a Jingo.

If you suspect you may have spotted a walrus in these pictures (and hey, isn't that an upside-down penguin?), and you're wondering why Humphrey isn't in the window, well, yeah, some of the cold-climate animals did opt for the Jingo over the window.  In Tibby's case, it was probably the excitement; he's an inquisitive little chap and he probably wanted to see what these warm-weather sorts were getting up to.  Humphrey... well, remember I said I suspected alcohol was involved?  Humphrey's involvement is one of the reasons behind this suspicion.  As to Plouie, well, who knows about Plouie.

Two warm-weather creatures did not participate in the Jingo.  Reggie is in my room for south room duty this week, so he spent the night bonding with Seal (as you might imagine, sea lions and river otters have stuff in common) and being perplexed with Sleepyhead (frisky otters do not know what to make of narcoleptics).  Meanwhile, Cami decided that the thing to do was simply sit on the floor by AJD's radiator, thus simultaneously a) placing himself in the warmest place in the room and b) placing himself where he can't see the horrible white stuff outside.

Doesn't he look cute (and cold)?

Plouie's Aliiiiiiive and the Arctic Animals Are Eating the Iceberg

Yesterday AJD discovered that the Brothers Chap had finally posted a new cartoon after a very long hiatus.  We watched it together, and since the cartoon featured Senor Cardgage, Plouie watched it too: AJD wanted to see whether Plouie would have an affinity with him or not.  Apparently not, sadly.  The cartoon featured lots of snow, which made Plouie quite excited, but the plot was completely over his head.

Afterwards we discovered that Plouie loses you if he's not looking at you, even if he's actually standing on you.  I was wearing a sweater, which excited him because sweaters remind him of snow, so AJD put him down on my shoulder, but he wasn't facing me, and as a result he was looking all over for me until we directed him to turn around.  Then he did it again a few minutes later.  Plouie doesn't have much in the way of longterm memory.

It's definitely nice to see him moving about and bouncing again.  He'd been very quiet for some time; he spent most of last month lying on his back and staring fixedly at the ceiling.  I was getting worried that he'd blown his circuits for good, but it must have just been a longer cycle than usual.  Plouie sort of has phases, like the moon, only less regular: periods of hyperactivity followed by catatonia and then back again.

Returning to the subject of snow, the arctic animals are currently trying to eat the iceberg.

AJD used to have a desktop Mac, but about eighteen months ago he replaced it with a laptop because it was ancient and slow.  It's now sitting on the floor about a foot from my side of the bed.  Since it's large and white, the animals with snow affinity have concluded it's an iceberg, and they often take turns perching on it.  Similarly, his duvet is blue, and the animals with water affinity sometimes treat it like water.  They know it's not; it's a purely nostalgic phenomenon.  We're less clear on whether the iceberg is nostalgia or not, or whether it depends.  (Plouie almost certainly takes it for a real iceberg.)

I went into AJD's room this morning to ask him some questions about Yiddish, and in the process noticed that Vim (the polar bear) and Murchison (the Arctic fox) were both lying on the floor near the iceberg.  They're either licking it or trying to eat it.  We have no explanation for this bizarre phenomenon; they've certainly never done this before.  And while Vim is young, and therefore can be expected to do odd things, Murchison is an adult, and a very canny one at that.  Maybe they're anxious for it to snow now that's winter?  Or maybe there's something about the psyche of snow animals that we don't understand? 

A few minutes later, I noticed that Cami was entangled in the shoelaces of one of AJD's shoes, but that seems like typical feline behaviour.

One might think that one has complete control over the antics of one's plush menagerie, such that one will never be surprised at their antics.  This is totally false.  They have a remarkable capacity for doing cute things with no help from us at all.

South Room Duty

AJD and I have different circadian rhythms: he's a night owl and I'm a lark.  We've learned the hard way that we have a tendency to screw up each other's sleep cycles, so during the week I usually end up sleeping in my room rather than his.  Every Sunday, when I migrate back to my room, one or two of the Wild Republicans come with me.

I never choose who is going to be posted for duty in my room for that week, because I'm not capable of choosing between my animals.  Ask me which of them is my favourite, and I will reply that I don't have a favourite, but I have a special soft spot for Sleepyhead and Plouie and Cami and Mahler and Seleucus and... before long I will have produced a litany of the entire populace.  My favourite animal is whichever one I happen to be holding at the time.

The reasons behind the assignments are not entirely clear to me.  Sometimes, AJD asserts, the animal with south room duty volunteers simply because he likes me.  This was the case with Parsley (the okapi), who is on duty this week.  Other times there seems to be more to it than that.  For the young ones, south room duty seems to be a break from study (for them), with an additional bonus in some cases as an opportunity for the adults to have one less rambunctious youngster around.  For the adults, it's sometimes a sort of working vacation, and sometimes a bit more.

Alfredo and Beppe had south room duty together last week, and this was both an opportunity for them to re-bond after their separation and a chance for Alfredo to get a bit of a break before throwing himself into preparations for the arrival of the delegation from the Wild Parliamentary Monarchy; as leader, most of the work falls to him.  Alfredo tends to use south room duty as a chance to confer with Seal about stuff - what, I'm not privy to.  Conferring with Seal, and sometimes even the private citizens, is apparently part of the point at least some of the time.

Sometimes Murchison is posted here, which is particularly intriguing.  He's a secret agent of some sort, and he doesn't believe in time off, so whenever south room duty falls to Murchison, one has to suspect something is up.

Sleepyhead has permanent south room duty.  I don't think this was planned; I think that initially the idea was that he'd be in here until his jet lag wore off.  Since he's been here almost six months and is just as jet-lagged as he was at first, I've taken his presence here as permanent; it's a good thing Seal has a certain fondness for him.  The other animals vary dramatically in their reactions to Sleepyhead.  Khamsin thinks he's really boring; Vim thinks he's confusing; Cami is worried about him; Tibby thinks he's unusually enlightened; Seleucus returned from his last south room duty feeling like his sense of reality had been warped; some of the others just ignore him; and so on.

Parsley hadn't had south room duty in a very long time - long enough that I don't think he'd met Sleepyhead before.  He clearly falls into the "Sleepyhead is good for cuddling" camp, which is good, because Sleepyhead took an immediate shine to him.  I conjecture that south room duty for Parsley - this time, at least - is going to be purely a mission of R&R.