I will never listen to your voicemail. 

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

(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.

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Back to un-grinding gears.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

This turned into my reality on Sunday:

At least I skipped the period where it’s dark out when I make my descent into the basement to wrench for the next 8 hours, and dark again when I resurface. I can’t remember the last time my mental health had been this stable throughout winter. I am proud of what I accomplished during those four months: many craft projects, Zwift racing, running, reading, cake decorating, and even a science experiment.

Now it’s time to earn real coin for grander adventures, such as my next overseas cycle tour trip. Destination: Ljubljana, Slovenia via London, UK.

With time, I may even save up enough money to shop at the antique store next door to the bike shop. The other day, I spotted this bronze statuette depicting role playing during the Roman Empire.

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Butter Showdown.

~ Lkvy ~ 2 Comments

With a pissed off iliopsoas keeping me from engaging in my newest hobby, running, I had to find other ways to make my final week of unemployment stimulating.

The alternative was to load up on butter. About $40 worth.

As a hobby baker specializing in cookies and a former Fraser Valley girl, Fraser Valley Creamery or Naturel were my go-to brands. I never noticed a significant difference between the two and naturally assumed they were superior to the cheaper alternatives. Recently, I’ve started shopping at grocery stores that aren’t lorded over by Jim Pattison or Galen Weston, and by doing so, I’ve found myself baffled by the butter options available. Organic. Grass fed. New Zealand style. Hand vs machine churned. Cultured butter. Medieval bog butter. “Great Value”.

…and goat butter. If you’re a fan of BotW or TotK and are wondering what dish five sticks of butter makes, it’s dubious food. Disappointing, but not surprising.

Anyway, Google insists that the Irish brand Kerrygold is the ultimate butter, but it doesn’t seem to be available in Canada. Likely due to the lobbying efforts the Canadian dairy cartel. Besides, all these review sites are crammed with ads, and I’m wary of heavily monetized sources.

Like a true radical, I set out to become the internet’s most trustworthy source on Canadian butter. Nobody paid me to do this: I did it out of love for baking, and for feeding my pals the most delicious baked goods I can possibly make.

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