Author: Lkvy

I'm a Deaf vagabond currently living on Vancouver Island. Bicycles dominate my life, but I also make time for climbing, hiking, camping, and cats. And if I have time left over after all that, I write about it.

FJTD List.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment


Next to me, I have a fat, juicy to-do list for the weekend (Thurs-Sat, in my case). It is a mix of tasks I dread and projects I’m stoked about. I’ve also peppered it with everyday duties that would’ve been done even without this list. I put them on there for the added satisfaction of having extra items to cross off.

I’m already halfway through the list. Pay credit card: Done! Laundry: Folded and hung! Email ICBC: done even though I shouldn’t have had to do it. The claims specialist who is dealing with the property damage coverage side of things last emailed me on November 12.

“I appreciate your patience and will reach out once I have an update to discuss the next steps.”

Two weeks later, I sent them a breakdown of my ride file, complete with screenshots, hoping to expedite the decision. I never got a response.

And the email I sent today? I received an automated Out of Office notification.

I have continued to make good use of the new wheel, but I’ve yet to receive a reimbursement. Ever since I reactivated my Zwift membership, I’ve been parking my road bike in front of my laptop every other day. In my previous post, I shared screenshots showing the difference between my performance a year ago and on December 26, a week after getting back on the trainer after a three-month hiatus.

I did this workout again (Red Unicorn) last week. The results surprised me.

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Grab a snack because this is gonna be a long one.

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I dreamt I lost Jordi in Costco. I texted him, telling him I was in front. As soon as I sent that message, my message was auto-corrected to “I’m going home.”

Then my panicked fingers couldn’t find the letters I needed to communicate where I was or what was happening. My keyboard didn’t make sense anymore. Only emojis were available, and I could not back out of that keyboard, all while I kept getting texts from Jordi demanding to know why I’d gone home.

I remember this much because I immediately explained my dream to Jordi when I woke up. Later that night, we shared a joint with my roomie outside and discussed the brain’s inability to incorporate actual text into dreams. I have recurring dreams about struggling to communicate in writing. Often, the text in my dreams resembles that of the fake text in Animal Crossing:

It’s merely a suggestion of text and it frustrates the hell out of me. However, the roomie is convinced he can form text in his dreams.

How about you?

Continue reading “Grab a snack because this is gonna be a long one.” →

The pompom that brought a city to its knees.

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I have a comically large pompom atop one of my toques. It’s so big that the pompom-to-toque ratio is nearly 1:1. People have difficulty resisting commenting on it. Small children point at my head. I might’ve even upset someone’s dog yesterday. Had the dog been off-leash, it’d have lunged at me for a taste of whatever critter they thought to be sitting on my head.

I spent the majority of my days off indoors. I finished French knotted the former Miss. Bouiver’s beehive and I am well on the way to completing my second embroidery project. I could finish it this week, except I found myself lying on the floor on Sunday night after smoking a bowl from my wee pipe. While high, I became more conscious of the strain I’d put on my back from hours of sitting on the couch, hunching over my embroidery project.

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Night of 1000 French Knots.

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Millennials or older, do you remember how jogging was a hobby in the 1990s? Now nobody jogs anymore: they RUN.

Soon to come in 2030: sprinters, gallopers, and going to hell for leather…ers.

This is not a revelation of my newest hobby. I’m still hyped about the slow art of embroidery. Last night, I learned how to do French Knots and thought, “Oh, I will do this entire section in French Knots!”  So far, I’ve French knotted a surface measuring 1.5″x1.5″, and it’s taken me at least five hours.

Continue reading “Night of 1000 French Knots.” →