Has Anyone Seen This Cat?

I saw this cartoon in Sunday's newspaper caused me to think of Evil Tiny Kitty, for some odd reason.

Of course, Dr. Alter would know that, even if the goal were to dine on roast mouse, burning down one's house is a poor way to go about it. No doubt she would take the flame-thrower to someone else's house.

Tick...tick...tick...

Kathy sent me a message: "I was visiting Steam Sky City yesterday when I encountered a visitor, recently arrived from the Other Place. He asked why the city was scheduled to be destroyed. As you can imagine, that was news to me! I asked him, 'To what do you refer, sir?' He pointed me to a bomb, strapped to a pillar in the aft section."

"Indeed it was! I inspected the bomb...set to go off in 24 days and some hours and minutes. What can this mean?"

We'll find out in 24...no, now 23...days. But it struck me that seeing unusual things in the Sky City was par for the course:

Clan Fraser and the Isle of Skye

Miss Eva Bellambi courageously uprooted herself from Loch Avie to Winterfell...and back to her ancestral castle, Caisteal Teanacadh, on the Isle of Skye (or An t-Eilean Sgitheanach in Gaelic) (apparently, as my Gaelic is a little rusty).

As the little sign on the property reads: "Ancient homeland of Clan Fraser, which is the Clan of Eva Bellambi's paternal grandmother. These lands have just been reclaimed by the Bellambi Clan Chieftainess and she now makes her home here."

As can be seen from these exterior shots, the castle is in magnificent condition, considering its age. (And though it cannot be seen in the picture above, Nessie dwells in the waters off the isle!) Below, a detail of the stunning stained glass windows:

The story is much better told by the lady herself, and I refer the interested reader to her Journal.

I bring up all this because tonight Lady Eva is holding a castle-warming, if "castle" and "warming" together do not constitute an oxymoron. Sadly, I cannot attend, which is why I was skulking around the castle earlier in the evening, camera in hand.

My sincerest wishes for many years of happiness to Lady Eva in her new (old) home!

Wunderbar Embassy in Rothesay

Lord Glamorgan having reduced his land holdings and sold his Rothesay parcel, I was curious to see what would appear in its stead. The answer turned out to be Wunderbar's embassy to Caledon.

The exterior is dramatic, particularly at night:

The interior is lavishly furnished:



The library contains one of the most impressive private collections in Caledon:

The entire building is as much a stately home as it is a place of business. Here, the chairs gathered near the fireplace are equally suited for matters of state or a cozy chat. (Brandy either way!)

Full Fathom Ten

I had paid a visit to Ten Fathom, the new steampunkish resort and spa created by folks from Rivet Town, and was considering how to write it up, when I saw that Dr. Fabre did it for me beat me to the punch, and I can do no better than to refer the interested reader to his post.

On the other hand, no use letting perfectly good pictures go to waste. Below, part of the exterior of the underwater complex:

Above the waves, the Fathom Princess:

The Asian-influenced entrance to the complex below:

A passageway below the surface, showing the soft lighting that runs thoughout the complex:

The spa.

The main area of the resort, including (naturally) a bar:

Being a landlubber at heart, the word "fathom" always reminds me of Sylvia Plath's poem, "Full Fathom Five":

Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tide's coming

When seas wash cold, foam-

Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung,
A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves
Crest and trough. Miles long

Extend the radial sheaves
Of your spread hair, in which wrinkling skeins
Knotted, caught, survives

The old myth of orgins
Unimaginable. You float near
As kneeled ice-mountains

Of the north, to be steered clear
Of, not fathomed. All obscurity
Starts with a danger:

Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury

And seems to die: so vapors
Ravel to clearness on the dawn sea.
The muddy rumors

Of your burial move me
To half-believe: your reappearance
Proves rumors shallow,

For the archaic trenched lines
Of your grained face shed time in runnels:
Ages beat like rains

On the unbeaten channels
Of the ocean. Such sage humor and
Durance are whirlpools

To make away with the ground-
Work of the earth and the sky's ridgepole.
Waist down, you may wind

One labyrinthine tangle
To root deep among knuckles, shinbones,
Skulls. Inscrutable,

Below shoulders not once
Seen by any man who kept his head,
You defy questions;

You defy godhood.
I walk dry on your kingdom's border
Exiled to no good.

Your shelled bed I remember.
Father, this thick air is murderous.
I would breathe water.

Steeltopia Expands

I hadn't been to Steeltopia in some time, and it turned out the empire had expanded northward. First up was Obsidian Bay, a watery expanse containing a lighthouse...

...and the headquarters of the S.C.S.E., the Steeltopia Consortium of Scientific Endeavors, in a simply massive structure.

The pictures do not do the building justice.

From Obsidian Bay, I flew still further north, to Steeltopia Anchorage. The town lies above an imposing wall:

Although building was still under way, I saw a number of completed structures, including the train station...

...Mr. Ambiant Kukulcan's shop, complete with landing strip on top,...

...and the Margulis' shops: Miss Poppy's on the left, Mr. M's on the right.

The town even has a pretty chapel, where I played the bride for a few moments.

A Tree Grows in Caledon

The Guv suggested that what Caledon needed was more trees, and that we might try to add some trees to parcels that were otherwise somewhat barren, to the extent that the parcel owners were going to be away from Caledon for a longish time.

I certainly like trees, and would be happy to see more. My little 512m^2 parcel doesn't seem to want to support large trees; my 1024m^2 parcel is more suited to that. Both need more shrubbery and spring flowers, something I've been lax in getting around to.

The best part about trees in Caledon: no need to rake the leaves each fall. No, wait, that's the second-best part. Even better: no leaf-blowing devices! (True story: my typist lives in a development with several yard-obsessed people. One fall day a few years back, she heard a persistent drone, which turned out to be a leaf blower in action across the street. Hours later, she still heard it. Curiosity got the better of her, and she went to look. The homeowner was blowing individual leaves off a yard that, at that point, was largely devoid of leaves...or twigs, or crickets, or anything that could not withstand the gasoline-powered blower that had been in use for over four hours. Some people need psychiatric help.)

So: bring on the trees!

Shhhh - The New Caledonian Navy is Coming

Kathy snuck into the Guvnah's mansion after hours to get a glimpse of the new navy ship prototype.

Moored just outside the mansion, the ship is a handsome ironclad.

Two forward and two aft guns make this a formidable-appearing weapon.

As an added bonus, Kathy encountered a secret of the Guvnah's mansion: the catgirl lair!

Okay, not really. But beneath the mansion lies a chamber that provides access to the rest of the Victoria City tunnel network.

The tunnels allow Lord Primbroke secret access to the Guv's catgirls Lord Primbroke to meet secretly with the Guvnah on important matters of State security, for example.

Naturally, all of this is a State secret of the highest order, and the information must never Fall Into the Wrong Hands.

Craic

Firmly believing the world needs more pubs, I visited the Good Craic Pub in Magellan Kinvara for a pint of Guiness. One can imagine the musicians with guitar, fiddle, and pipes, with the bodhran joining in, and some good friends enjoying a few jars and more than a few stories.


For reasons not entirely clear to me, I also think the world needs more churches, and Kinvera has a gorgeous one:

Alas, nothing was happening at the Marzipan Teahouse when I passed by:

Zeppelinheim Flyby

Kathy flew through Zeppelinheim, past the Duesenburg,...

...past the shaded house...

...and landed in someone's garden for a little rest.

It's true what they say about piloting an aircraft: it's not so much that the act of staying aloft and not hitting anything is so difficult, it's all the other idiots in the air that constitutes the problem.

Imagine how difficult life would be if everyone had a motorized vehicle!