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.
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.)
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 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…
I found a tree with cherry blossoms today.
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.
Continue reading “The early bird gets the worm, but the late bird gets that bird.”
A bug flew down my jersey while Ed, Yann, and I were making our way back to the Langdale ferry terminal by bike. I didn’t know what kind of bug it was until I tried to assist its exit by tugging on the front of my jersey.
“AHH, FUCK!”
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