Category: books

The insatiable Lola.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

In case anyone missed it, I’ve named the AI coach that lives in my Garmin Forerunner Lola.

Since my first full day with Lola at my side, March 19, I’ve averaged 19,679 steps a day, which I think is excellent. But she’s gone from asking me to do 10,000 per day to 20,390. At this rate, I’m going to be expected to walk forever by the end of the year.

Besides, once this shitty Smarch weather dies (there was frost this morning… FROST), I’ll switch to cycling as my primary activity. Or golf? Apparently, Lola knows a thing or two about golf.

On the sedentary side of my life, while Kristen continues lapping me on StoryGraph, I’ve finished my second science fiction novel of the year: Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky.

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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.

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Icy hot.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

I’ve had some luck with solutions presenting themselves after I’ve complained about something on my blog.

Case in point:

There will be no DIY calendar this year. My 2026 Aurora Borealis calendar ensures I can focus on steaming my hams to perfection.

My first road run in Victoria was a success and didn’t result in a route that resembled a white power symbol. Despite that, I’ve chosen to keep my runs private on Strava for now. I’d rather be sure it’s an activity I can commit to doing with some semblance of regularity. Love me for my mind, not my ridiculous lactate threshold.

In the same vein, I wasn’t about to declare myself a fan of Heated Rivalry after the first episode.

(It is about to get hot in here.)

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Assload of asses.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

It’s not a good year for calendars.

2022 was the year of Peter Glazebrook.

2023’s calendar was a Where’s Waldo knockoff.

Moons were the star in 2024.

2025 featured axolotls.

December’s axolotl still adorns the wall next to the fridge. A week into 2026, I walked into Russel Books, expecting to buy a calendar at half price, just like I had the previous year, only to learn that the procrastinator’s discount had turned into a BOGO deal. When the cashier explained that I could grab a second calendar for “free”, I declined on the basis that I wasn’t leading a double life and begrudgingly paid full price for 12 large pictures of axolotls. This calendar turned out to be a dud. Instead of the weekend sandwiching the weekdays as usual, both weekends appeared as the last two columns, resulting in a year of showing up for appointments a day early and premature birthday greetings.

This year, Russel’s selection was limited to dog breeds and the works of Gustav Klimt, all at full price. BOGO was no go.

Whatever. I have a printer: there’s no need to limit myself to just one breed of dog for a whole year. I could transform every weekday into a Saturday or Sunday, which has become my reality as an unemployed person, not that I haven’t been keeping busy with personal projects, reading lists, and fitness ambitions.

The aspect of my life that has suffered the most during this sabbatical has been my social life. So, when Zoée left to be with her other chosen family on the 27th, I scrambled to make plans with the few folks I knew who hadn’t skipped town for the holidays, including my actual family.

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