Beartales the First

Hi. This is Steve. My human's been a bit out of it lately, so I thought I'd help her out and talk to you people for once. You know, she's been in the kind of mood where she plops herself on the couch and pops in that movie, you know the one where they're all mincing around and talking funny, and the men wear tall tubes on their heads, and every once in a while someone goes "Mister Daaaahcy!" There's not one single bear in sight anywhere in that movie, but she seems to like it anyway. And it's five hours long. That kind of thing. You know?

So, we went on that trip a while ago, you know, we went on an airplane, and then I sat on a bedside table in a hotel for a couple of days. Here's me, in the hotel:

 

I like travelling; it's fun. I tell Horatio all about it when we get home, and he likes listening, but he doesn't want to go anywhere himself. He's a hometiger, I suppose. And then, after I'm done telling him about our trip (sitting in the backpack squished under an airplane seat is loud. And tight. You know?), he tells me about the poetry he's composed while I was gone. He never writes it down, though, which is too bad because it's good poetry. But maybe it's more of a performance art, you know? Writing it down would probably spoil it. I don't know if our human even knows about Horatio's poetry; I should tell her sometime.

Here's me in the backpack on the airplane:

 

Well, that's all I can think of telling you for today. Maybe I'll come back some time and tell you more; you're nice to talk to, you know?
This is Steve the Bear, signing off for today. Woolly Wishes!

Returning On A Jet Plane

Steve and I just got back from a week in Germany, visiting with family. Well, Steve didn't do much visiting; he mostly sat on my bed being fluffy. It's what he does best. And so here I am, sitting up at 4:00 AM, with jet lag. Did I mention I hate jet lag? No? Then I'll mention it: I hate jet lag.

Oh, but look, here's a fancy definition of it: "Jet lag, medically referred to as desynchronosis, is a physiological condition which results from alterations to the body's circadian rhythms resulting from rapid long-distance transmeridian (east–west or west–east) travel on a jet airplane. It is classified as one of the circadian rhythm sleep disorders." Desynchronosis - ooh! And circadian rhythm sleep disorder - whooee! Now I feel like Somebody, having that. I still hate being up at 4:00 AM with it, though, even if it's got a fancy name.

Steve, of course, feels no such affliction; he's snoring his woolly snores on my bedside table. Yes, stuffed-bear snores sound exactly like their non-snores (very, very quiet). Which is why they're restful people to have around. Mind you, for all I know, he's not snoring, but telling Horatio all about his adventures in the Old Country (it's a bit hard to tell with stuffed animals). You want to know what those adventures were? I have no idea; how should I know what my stuffed bear gets up to when I'm not looking? I was too busy visiting, and eating, and going into the city to do shopping and sightseeing (and eating), to pay attention to bearly adventures. But that's all to the good; stuffed bears tend to get self-conscious when they're watched too much.

Life, the Universe, and Jet-lagged Ramblings. I'll be more coherent when my circadian rhythms have attained the state of resynchronosis.