Category: DIY

Come for cookies.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

I guess I’m going to start providing monthly updates on the ambient lighting at chez Zoée. Last Saturday, in an effort to make their living space more crafting-friendly for their nyctalopic (yes, I just learnt this word) pal, Zoée hung an extra lightbulb above the couch and urged me to take the corner space.

Before I left for the mainland last Friday, my lighting technician encouraged me to bring a crafting project to work on, as they were on a roll with their first-ever knitting project: a sweater.

Yes, a sweater!

When I got into knitting a decade ago, I would never have ventured to make a sweater, even after completing five toques and a scarf. Choosing a sweater as a first knitting project seems completely insane to me, but Zoée seems to be managing it well.

For our enchanted evening of entanglement, I packed two skeins of yarn. Rather than knit yet another toque, I wielded a crocheting hook to form the cap portion of my mushroom guy. Not only can Zoée make a sweater in a dimly lit room, but they can also follow the plot of Bridgerton while doing so. The only scene I caught was Daphne experiencing her first post-nut clarity.

I’d paid for my ride and lodging with jizz cookies and egg salad sandwiches.

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Ridiculously Assiduous

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

False Spring has arrived! The weather forecast through Tuesday looks so promising that my plan to go on an overnight cycling trip tomorrow night has been met with encouragement rather than bafflement from those I’ve shared it with. This won’t be a repeat of October’s Hell of the South Island ride, as Yann, Burger, and I are expected to reach the campsite well before dark.

My adventures in 2026 continue to be a series of anomalies. Today, I combined two uncharacteristic activities: ice skating and interacting with the local deaf community. I was more successful with the former, accomplishing about 30 laps around what looked like a giant planter box. When I first saw the ice rink, I got excited about the strip of ice that stuck out of the circular rink, thinking it’d join up with a second, larger rink–the adult rink. But, no, that strip led to the Zamboni garage. This rinky-dink ice rink was about 1/3 the size of a standard ice rink and teeming with deaf kids pushing around skating aids. Barely big enough to wow anyone with my mediocre ice skating skills. Even though I didn’t “find my people”, I didn’t regret going.

Even on the mainland, where there’s a much larger community of like-eared folks, my childfree status has kept me from re-integrating in the deaf community to which I once belonged. I’m also not quite old enough to get amped for Bingo nights with the deaf empty nesters. Maybe in 2046?

I have committed to attending a Heated Rivalry-themed party in March with one of my favourite deaf people, Zoée. It’s not a deaf event, but a dance party at a queer bar! I think I’ll dress like Scott Hunter when he tried to go art shopping incognito.

“Where’s all the heteronormative art at?”

That reminds me, I haven’t yet shared the screen print I did over the holidays.

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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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The Mystery of my Koumpounophobia.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

“The credit offered is the support available through this program and doesn’t include covered shipping. If you’d prefer not to use it, no problem at all. There’s no obligation to accept.“

It began with my decision to participate in a Zwift group ride outside of the RIOT squad. It was a 75km ride, which would typically take me about 2 and a half hours to complete, thus boring myself to tears. I wanted to get an endurance ride in and pondered whether a group ride would make it more interesting. You can send short messages during these rides until your phone’s touchscreen gives up on registering your sweaty fingertips.

I joined the ride just as the ride leader announced that there would be prizes for the male and female with the most sprint points.

Things briefly became more interesting until I realized that out of the group of about 80 participants, there were only three other women. None of them attempted to get out of their saddles to challenge me during the sprints. The prize was undoubtedly mine early into the ride. I had no idea what it was; for all I knew, it could be a virtual badge. Zwift likes to give out those.

I submitted my email address to the ride leader to claim my prize, and three days later, a rep from The Feed got in touch, offering to add credit to my account, which did not exist. So, he explained how I need to create an account to claim my prize.

Hmm.

As hinted by this post’s opener, I straight-up asked the rep if it was a true prize or if I was still expected to pay for shipping. In case it was the latter, I asked if they had a promo code I could offer to someone else. That was when they responded, “There’s no obligation to accept.”

Oh, for the love of Amway…

Continue reading “The Mystery of my Koumpounophobia.” →