Category: Victoria

The best beast of the island.

~ Lkvy ~ 5 Comments

Look at this cat, isn’t he incredible?

A grey cat with large pupils stares at the person standing behind the camera from inside a bath tub.

He has chewed the straps of my sports bra in half. Twice. That is incredible.

He has also chewed off and swallowed the knotted end of a hoody drawstring. The knot remained in his belly until he yakked it up three days later. But before his puke revealed what had been wrong with him, his loss of appetite on day one was so disconcerting that Yann and I wasted a hundred dollars on a visit to the vet. Incredible.

Even after this ordeal, he still finds hoody drawstrings irresistible. He’s incredib…ly infuriating.

Aanyway, aren’t these dog ownership-level problems?

Continue reading “The best beast of the island.” →

The adoration of Jack Frost.

~ Lkvy ~ 6 Comments

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.

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It’s safer in the mountains.

~ Lkvy ~ 2 Comments

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.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

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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