So what is Odin really like, you ask? There's surprising consensus on this question, with each person who meets him uttering the same three phrases in the same order:
Odin certainly is handsome. And don't think he doesn't know it. People can't help but admire his noble, aquiline profile, his rich coloring, and his striking pattern. He's had offers to do runway work in Milan, but has decided to devote his career to high art rather than haute couture.
People are surprised that Odin is skinny (he prefers to call it "svelte") because they know I spoil him just a teensy weensy bit. I think they expect to find Jabba the Cat, reclining on my sofa with a fishbone in one paw and a stein of cream in the other as he watches a dancing mouse in a gold bikini. Odin did gain 8 ounces this year thanks to extended stays at Grandma's house, but he still has that lean and hungry look.
Odin, weird? I just don't get that one.
So that's it:
Handsome. Skinny.
Weird.
As many of my friends have pointed out, this also sums up my taste in men.
That couldn't mean anything, could it?
*Schoolhouse Rock, 1975
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