And what we could have been, time will never tell

New archaeological discovery at Pylos: a Mycenaean burial full of Minoan artifacts. "The griffin warrior" is a quick name, but an evocative one.

The coffin has long since decayed, but still remaining are the bones of a man about 30 to 35 years old and lying on his back. Placed to his left were weapons, including a long bronze sword with an ivory hilt clad in gold and a gold-hilted dagger. On his right side were four gold rings with fine Minoan carvings and some 50 Minoan seal stones carved with imagery of goddesses and bull jumpers . . . An ivory plaque carved with a griffin, a mythical animal that protected goddesses and kings, lay between the warrior's legs. The grave contained gold, silver and bronze cups . . . Among the objects accompanying him to the netherworld were a bronze mirror with an ivory handle and six ivory combs.

Of course I want to know the story. I hope it is there for the finding. The photographs are beautiful.

I was referring to the present in past tense

In paleontological news: Siberian permafrost yields cave lion kittens. "At least one of the cats, seen in a photo released with the announcement, is so delicately preserved that even its fur is intact. The kitten has been frozen this way for at least 10,000 years, although the initial report notes that they could be even older." I find this scientifically fascinating and sort of horrifiedly adorable.

I saw my own cats this afternoon, not at all frozen and very affectionate. After an early doctor's appointment, I spent way too much time on public transit (including an extra hour waiting for the 51, during which time I ate my scallion pancake sandwich from Mei Mei and read a book of Greek rebetika) and arrived in time for Autolycus to greet me at the door. He climbed into my arms and hung from my shoulder like a young bat, purring. About half the time I was working at the dining room table, he was curled up near me with his eyes contentedly half-closed; the other half of the time he decided I had paid enough attention to the computer and should maybe notice the cat a little now. Hestia leapt onto the radiator in the dining room and then flopped sideways for belly-petting, so that I had to use my other hand to keep her from ecstatically writhing her way off the radiator cover and onto either the U-Haul boxes or the floor. She played with a stuffed mouse in the living room, batting it so that it bounced off the couch and she could pounce on its unpredictable arc. Autolycus attempted to guilt-trip me into fetching down the cat treats from the lintel of the bedroom door by directing his gaze soulfully upward and emitting a plaintive, high-pitched croon. It did not work, but I did feed them dinner.

Meanwhile, what the hell was going on sixty years ago under Government Center?