Scary rides.

Day 35:

Blueberries are the solidest food I can eat. I braved eating a chickpea curry stew the other night. While delicious, I imagine I looked like a cat eating in slo-mo as I chowed it down.

Knuckle tattoo idea: SOUP LIFE

I’ve become so skilled in pureeing hot food that I was able to repay a friend in soup for making a cake.

Three days before his birthday, I asked the roomie about his favourite cake. The clearly troubled middle-aged lad answered, “Carrot cake.”

I’ve never made carrot cake. I’ve never officially created a list of my top ten cakes, but it wouldn’t be there. I didn’t have eggs or the time to bake a cake unnoticed. Instead, I asked a few friends for recommendations on where to get a good carrot cake, hoping none of them would answer Costco as that’s far away, and I’m not a member.

Claire had my favourite answer, “I could bake you one.”

The others in the group chat had glowing endorsements for Claire’s baking skills. Even with the bartering of homemade soup, I felt the need to personalize the cake to transform it into a gift from me rather than from Claire. I used the garden as an excuse to hang out in the backyard while awaiting the stealth cake hand-off. The roomie was hanging right outside the door of our suite as Claire walked through. Happily, it passed under the roomie’s nose undetected.

I was unsure how to decorate it, much less how to decorate it secretly. I put the box containing the cake in a paper bag, stuck the bag behind my box of Bubly sparkling water, and went to bed. I didn’t think the cake decorating was going to happen.

That night, I dreamt up the perfect cake decoration that did not require using the kitchen.

I made a wee pennant banner in the privacy of my bedroom and hung it up with toothpicks. While the roomie was preoccupied with something in his bedroom, I snuck the paper-bagged cake out of the fridge and into my bedroom, where I stabbed it with my last-minute innovation. I thought I could sneak it into the fridge unnoticed, but the roomie was already in the kitchen drinking his coffee. There was no time to fix the lettered pennants.

I slid the plate on the table and watched his delight as he realized he could eat cake for breakfast. Like a real adult!

Here’s the recipe for the pennant decoration:

• two toothpicks
• coloured origami paper
• Sharpie
• thread
• glue stick
• scissors

The roomie was baffled: “Where did you keep this?!! Was it hidden in plain sight?!”

I can’t decide whether the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since my last update was ambushing the roomie with a birthday cake, getting back on my bike, or getting shit on by a cat. Before I talk about getting shit on by a cat, here’s the latest bouquet from Zoée, by way of the local flower dealer:

Now, I can discuss the feeling of warm, moist cat turds rolling down my bare thighs as I hugged a distressed Klaus in Jordi’s car. Klaus braved the 15-minute car ride to the vet’s office. He was a good sport while the vet prodded him.

There’s nothing wrong with Klaus. He was there for a routine check-up as he’s a senior cat. For Klaus, there was a lot wrong with the car ride back home. The poor guy started panting in terror. When we were about five minutes away from Jordi’s, I could tell he’d been scared shitless.

I lifted my butt off the seat the instant I felt the turds touch my leg so that it wouldn’t roll downwards into my shorts. For the rest of the trip, I hovered over cat poop while trying to calm down Klaus. I’m glad my leg muscles hadn’t atrophied from a month off the bike.

Clean-up was a breeze… for me. I think Jordi used half a roll of paper towel to clean out his car and Klaus’ butt, which Klaus later touched up with his tongue. I sat on Jordi’s patio eating ice cream in the sun while the boys dealt with shit.

Jordi was the true hero that day. Before our shitty misadventures to the vet, Jordi met me at my place on his bike so that he could escort me along the Lochside Trail (multi-use trail) as I rode a bike for the first time since my accident. For the first 15 or 20 minutes, I was freaking out a bit. After that, the joy of riding overpowered the fear. Since then, I’ve even done a 6am group ride.

The month-long break affected my fitness. Although my legs still had power, my heart could barely keep up. The hour-and-a-half ride finished with five laps around Beacon Hill Park. I tapped out on the fourth lap before my heart could explode.

Being weak on the bike is better than not riding at all.