The adoration of Jack Frost.

Many of my posts are inspired by conversations I have with Yann. He’s my one-man test audience. Whenever a horrified look spreads across his face, I think, “Ooh, this is definitely blog-worthy.”

The night I posted about my impending exit from InstaCrap, the bedroom light suddenly switched off. I had angered God (who is now owned by Facebook).

My first thought was that Yann had grown impatient of me treating the bedroom as a makeshift office, and had shut off the light as a way to announce bedtime. This wasn’t rational as it’s not his style. If anything, it’s something I would do.

The glow from my notebook was enough for me to see that Yann wasn’t standing at the bedroom door as expected. I jump to conclusions poorly: the wind had knocked out the power, blacking out our building.

Continue reading “The adoration of Jack Frost.”

In case you missed it.

The other day, someone came into the bike shop for a hub repack. This is when we remove the axle and replace the bearings (either loose or sealed). What are loose or sealed bearings, you might be wondering?

It doesn’t matter.

As the guy handed over his wheel to Yann, he mumbled something about how he would have done it himself. Yann was technically still on his break, so the job was passed on to me. 

Continue reading “In case you missed it.”

It’s safer in the mountains.

At 11:59pm on December 31st, I stood behind Yann as he washed the dishes. I had Enfoiré in my arms and an eye on the range display, waiting for 12:00 to pop up. At midnight, I yelled Happy New Year at the back of Yann’s head.

The scene an hour earlier had been even grimmer: I was hunched over on the couch, trying to comb the mats out of my toque’s pompom, which had shrunk in the washer. (The entire thing shrunk, actually. I aimlessly restored a pompom on a now too-small toque. I should have known better than to put a toque in a washer. Fuck.)

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Dry January came early.

On Christmas Day, Yann and I hiked up Mt. Doug (elevation 225m) and passed people in t-shirts. From the top, we had a 360° view of the Capital Regional District and its total absence of snow. White Christmases are overrated.

Yann, dressed in all-black and carrying a large daypack walks down a muddy trail on the side of Mount Doug.

Yann made an especially unnecessary observation when pointed out the observatory, which was obvious.

In the evening, we were served a Christmas meal by neither my nor Yann’s family, but Kristina’s family which meant there was significantly more signing involved than what I’m used to. Most of the time, THIS is what family dinners are like for me.

It would’ve been the perfect Christmas EXCEPT…

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The early bird gets the worm, but the late bird gets that bird.

I found a tree with cherry blossoms today.

Tree branches devoid of leaves have blooms of pink cherry blossoms.

Victoria still hasn’t seen a single snowflake. Last night, while Yann and I were outside for our evening toke, feathers snowed on us. Right before that happened, Yann heard a noise and spotted an owl that had perched on the power lines. What about owls’ reputation for being silent predators of the night? The sounds were coming from its latest meal, which was still alive.

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Confections and infections.

I was able to track Ed’s every move through WhatsApp upon his arrival in Vancouver. His first bite of Canadian food came from Tim Horton’s which is a chain fast food/coffee shop that many Canadians are somehow proud of.  Their donuts are mediocre, and their employees are always poorly trained and often are entirely befuddled when it comes to serving deaf customers.

But, a donut is still a donut. When Yann and I find ourselves at Tim Hortons, he already knows my order. When I order myself, though, the cashier usually passes out from the complexity of having to read an order off the screen of a smartphone and requires medical attention. It’s a lot to tolerate just for a glazed chocolate donut.

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