To state the obvious, I write about myself on the internet. What you’re about to read is specifically about me. If you do not fancy reading about me, please enjoy this Wikipedia article on the nail gun.
My formative years were spent in the suburbs playing Oregon Trail on DOS. I owned the Club Monaco logo sweatshirt in five different colours. I may have entered a POG tournament once. I am now a craft beer drinking millennial who likes to live simply with a closet full of technical outdoor gear.
My family consists of Yann, my partner; Enfoiré, our round son; and Bubble, our tiny cow. The latter two are cats. We live on an island where palm trees grow; their fronds sometimes receive a dusting of snow. Victoria, Canada is where this unusual phenomenon occurs. Both Yann and I repair bikes for the safety of our insular community and a paycheque.
Since retiring from playing POGS competitively, I’ve been enjoying cycling and climbing. I’ve been known to knit, draw, paint, and bake. It’s been suspected that I like squirrels, travelling, the colour blurple, and filling out comment cards. I habitually anthropomorphize fruit left unattended.
I can’t hear anything. Not just right now, but ever. I’m deaf: this seems to bother others more than it does me.
Other than writing or typing, I use American Sign Language to communicate. The name of this blog, Squaremeat, came from a friend who couldn’t keep up with my fingerspelling and somehow concluded that I must have a meat shape preference.
Questions? I’ll be here.