It's That Time of Year

With temperatures in Philly reaching well into the upper eighties and expected to climb, AJD and I concluded yesterday that it was time to install our window a/c units.  (We don't have central a/c in our apartment.  It is unfortunate.)  We managed to do this without dropping either unit out of the window and both units are now blasting cold air at us: Operation Make Our House Habitable was an unqualified success.

We're not the only ones happy about this, either.  Here are Vim and Rebus basking in the kelth.

Polar bears are particularly sensitive to climbing temperatures - cf. global warming and all of that.

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.

Something Sweet

In the interest of offering decisive evidence that Plouie is capable of more than simply crazy freak-outs, here is a picture of him on snow-watch vigil with Vim. 

Plouie can actually be very sweet, when he's calmer.  (He is, after all, essentially a ball of cuddly fluff.)  One of the ways to get him calmer is to set him watching for snow.  The appearance of snow, whether it's falling or fallen, particularly calms him, but even if there's no snow on the horizon, just the prospect of potential snow does the trick.  There's no snow around here anymore, what with the warming weather (touch wood), but Plouie's still content to watch for it.  His attention span is short enough that he doesn't get distressed if it doesn't appear.

At first we were concerned that the snow would actually wind him up; like AJD pointed out, he's from the southern hemisphere, so he might not be expecting to see snow this time of year.  Things are different in Antarctica, though; he's probably used to seeing snow all year round, so maybe the time of year doesn't matter.  Besides, Plouie doesn't really have a concept of time anyhow.

Thundersnow &c.

Wednesday night we were hit by a truly impressive Thundersnowstorm.  The snow animals were absolutely delighted.  Here you can see Murchison, Flurry, Vim, and Plouie watching the storm with great enthusiasm.  Plouie actually calmed down a little for once.

At precisely 4.58 the following morning, I was awakened by an eerie, remarkably high-pitched alarm noise, which disappeared almost as soon as it had happened, along with our power.  For awhile the power company claimed the culprit was a tree, but the tree turned out to be mythical.  What had actually happened was a gas leak under the street, so that the power company couldn't fix the outage until the gas company had fixed the leak, which was a complicated endeavour what with all the cars and snow on the street.  The power was out for almost thirty-six hours, along with our heat.  Our heating is actually gas, so technically it was working (we did, for instance, have plenty of hot water), but the thermostat  is electric, so the gas didn't know it was supposed to turn on.  This meant our apartment became very cold, and we eventually elected to crash at the house of a friend of ours out in Upper Darby.

When we first established that the power was gone, AJD said, 'Uh oh, I'd better go make sure no one is telling Angel Joe ghost stories.'  Fortunately, everyone had better sense than that.  When we made the choice to evacuate, though, AJD realised we'd better check to make sure Angel Joe was in good company.  It turned out he was with Nicodemus.  'That's a terrible idea,' AJD exclaimed, so Angel Joe was relocated to Butterfinger's company.  Teddy bears are good for traumatised ermines.

Just as we were leaving, Vim decided he wanted to come too.  Barry and Gilly got to have adventures, he pointed out, and he thought possibly he might be useful for us.  So we smuggled him into my bag, and he got to ride the subway train (which he thought was great fun), spend the night in Upper Darby (likewise), ride the bus all the way to Center City (he was disappointed I made him stay concealed until I pointed out that the other passengers might be frightened if they knew he was aboard), and then go to work with me.  We proclaimed it Take Your Polar Bear to Work Day; I wonder if it will catch on.

So Vim had a great time, and has been regaling the others with the story ever since he returned; and no one told Angel Joe ghost stories; and we have both power and heat again; so all is well.

My Menagerie Gets Media (sort of)

AJD's team has just finished running the 2011 MIT Mystery Hunt (very successfully, from what I hear), which means that I can now reveal that several members of my menagerie were involved as well - in pictures, even.  The others who weren't included (particularly Rusty) are very jealous.

The puzzle featuring my darlings was called Soooo Cute!  If you go to the solution page (by clicking "Call in answer"), you'll see at the top that they're all credited:

featuring Parsley, Seleucus, Desmond, Barry, Vim, Winslow, Khamsin, Humphrey, Henri, and others

The others alluded to are not from my menagerie.  Barry was, initially, one of those others, but DS was looking for homes for them (because it would have been hard to transport them, I think?), so we adopted Barry.

Not only can I now reveal that this has happened, but I can also show their pictures, which I wasn't at liberty to do before.  So, here goes.

Barry:

You'll see that one again shortly, because I ought to do "so I have an elephant named Barry" post.

Humphrey:

Desmond:

We did two shots of each of them.  Desmond blinked the first time.

Henri:

Henri is very shy.  I'm not sure if you can tell.  It's something about being a mini-giraffe; it would probably make me shy too.

Winslow:

It's really hard to get a good picture of a beluga whale on a white background.  Try it yourself and you'll see.  The other one we took was sort of blindingly incandescent; it made Winslow look like a whale god, as far as you could make him out.

Seleucus:

Khamsin:

Parsley:

Vim.

You can't see his earring in this picture very well, but he has one.  If there are prizes for cuteness to be given amongst my animals, Vim is a really strong contender. 

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.