Buttmunsch.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

This morning, around 7, I found myself in a tug-of-war match with my late mom. We’re both pinching opposite edges of a tiny cookie, pulling it toward ourselves with all our might. The battle ended with me falling backward, empty-handed, as Mom emerged victorious, popping the chocolate snowball cookie into her mouth.

At 7:32am, I open my eyes, and Lola greets me with my morning report, commending me for an excellent sleep score of 92. Thanks for the affirmation, Lola. When it comes to my training regimen, however, she is not as reassuring.

This Monday’s 50-minute workout requires going at full sprint for 8 minutes, repeated three times, with 3-minute recoveries in between! Yesterday’s workout was more manageable, but when my pace slowed on the steep portion of the Chip Trail Loop around Cedar Hill Golf Course, my watch buzzed. I glanced down at Lola:

TOO SLOW

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I think I’ve gone too far.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

I finished reading Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow yesterday.

…would have been a neat way to start this post. The truth is, I finished it two days ago and have since been struggling to find my next read. I’m currently sampling Adrian Tchaikovsky’s novel, Children of Time. I’m not sold on it yet. For starters, am I ready for another sci-fi novel so soon after Project Hail Mary? I don’t think there are gonna be aliens doing jazz hands in this one.

Continue reading “I think I’ve gone too far.” →

I will never listen to your voicemail. 

~ Lkvy ~ 3 Comments

(I started writing this post yesterday.)

Happy International Women’s Day!

A lifetime of suffering, one day of celebration!

-Alexa

Once again, I empowered women by enriching their knowledge of bikes and letting them in on the secret that men generally overstate their bike maintenance know-how. Truly, I have yet to meet a non-bike mechanic whose skills match their claims. I’ve definitely been “well, ackshually’d” by these men the few times I’ve tried to give empirical advice.

Fine. Enjoy your garbage bike, you smug man.

As soon as I got home from the three-hour repair clinic, I scrubbed the grime from my fingernails, eager for a more ladylike diversion. My order of yarn from Denmark arrived while I was in Vancouver and passed through customs without incurring any duty fees.

There was only one thing stopping me from starting on my army of Koroks: this blog post. I can’t keep Zoée waiting for my recap of my extra-queer, birthday-flavoured trip to Vancouver.

Continue reading “I will never listen to your voicemail. “ →