Category / Uncategorized

by Aleisha Hendry

And the winner is…

All of us. For now, at least.

Our sovereignty will remain. We will not follow in the footsteps of our neighbours to the south.

Looking at the results though, It was a very near thing. This wasn’t Canada outright rejecting fascism, because holy there’s a lot of blue on the map of the west. Part of me wonders if it’s just the usual Canadian thing where we rotate out the Liberals and Conservatives every few cycles, or if people are still hating on Trudeau even though he’s gone now.

It likely would have been a Conservative minority at minimum if the NDP had kept all their seats. Seeing Jagmeet Singh resign after losing his seat was a little heart-wrenching. But while it stings to see, the NDP will bounce back. We need them in this country. They are why we don’t go bankrupt when we get sick and why we have worker’s comp and old age pensions and so much more that makes us Canada.

We are not a two-party system, and no one should want that for us. We are stronger with all the parties at the table.

I will say… PP losing the seat he’s held for two decades was poetic. Some poor sap in a safe blue riding in Alberta will probably be forced to step aside, because while PP should absolutely resign, he probably won’t. And if he does, no one should feel bad for him either, since he’ll be able to live large off his government pension for the rest of his life. Won’t have to get one of those real jobs he’s always talking about but has never actually done himself.

This would be an ideal time for the Conservative Party to do some serious self-reflection. Their last three leaders could not get them over the finish line to a majority, or even a minority… doesn’t that tell you something? They’re past due for some real hard consideration of what it means to be a right-leaning Canadian. And I don’t mean being a Canadian version of the Republican party.

Because this whole thing where they imitate the far right in the US? It doesn’t work up here. And leaning so hard into it over the last decade or so is what brought the country to this near tipping point. Making the media out to be your enemy really doesn’t help project the image you want, because again, we are not the US. Using the far right buzzwords of “anti-woke” and all that utter bullshit does not endear you to the electorate.

You will pry my right to choose from my cold, dead fist.

We have been bombarded by American media and social media for so long, it’s like people have forgotten that we are not America. I recall seeing a clip somewhere a while back of a guy yelling about his First Amendment rights at a city council meeting and him being told there’s no such thing because this is Canada. Imagine getting so wrapped up in your own rage that you completely forget that we are not the same country with the same laws and rules and regulations… It’s sad, really.

Yet another reason why education is so damn important. Belittling education as elitism is not going to help anything, but neither is gatekeeping. There’s a lot – and I mean A LOT – of bullshit out there on the internet, and while it’s more effort on your end, do yourself a favour and triangulate your sources. This means finding three sources confirming what you’re reading, and I’m talking about reputable sources, not a random Facebook post.

Also, there is a world of a difference between a news article and an opinion piece. What I’m doing here is an opinion piece. I’m just sharing my thoughts about a particular subject that I’ve read a lot about and formed an opinion of. You may not agree with me, and that’s okay. I don’t expect everyone to.

A news article will be the facts with cited sources. Not everything from the news is a “hit piece” or biased just because it doesn’t agree with your preconceived ideas.

At any rate, we’ve still got a lot of work to do. Go for a walk, stand barefoot in the grass, drink some water. Take care of yourself.

Elbows Up.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

How hard is it to say no to fascism?

Remember when I said I was going to write more? I used to be good at this.

I’m leaning into my old column writing days with this one, so buckle up.

It’s officially election season in Canada. Federal election, even. And with the implosion of the democracy to the south of us, it’s more important than ever to actually be an engaged citizen.

My riding is a Conservative stronghold. It has been held by Progressive Conservative/Reform/Canadian Alliance/And-back-to-Conservative-again since 1972. That’s not going to change, I’ve accepted that.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to cast my vote for the conservative incumbant.

He does not represent my values or my ideals or anything else I care about. He only seems to care about guns and conversion therapy. His party will hurt people I care about. So I will not be voting for him. I will vote, but it will not be for him.

Some might ask, well then why vote at all? if you know your vote isn’t going to do anything, why bother?

Oh the privilege in those questions.

We are on the precipice of the most drastic global shift if the last century. I’m astounded I’m alive to see it happen in real time. The world’s dominate superpower is folding like a cheap suit into oligarchy, and as their neighbour to the north it is going to impact us directly. It already is. The Fall of the American Empire is happening right now, and we all get to witness it.

(Lucky us, she said sarcastically.)

We’ll see if 47 manages to enact his trade war; he seems to flip flop every time he sets a deadline for the tariffs to kick in. I’m not relying on the US to actually do anything about their descent into fascism, all I can do is plead with my fellow Canadians to not follow in their footsteps.

See, in most eras, the fact that a federal party leader refusing to get security clearance would be enough to eliminate him as even a possibility for Prime Minister. But this is not a bygone era, and disinformation runs rampant, so here we stand. A leader who, according to our intelligence agency, only got the role of party leader thanks to foreign interference, is about neck-in-neck with other likely candidate for PM. One who has essentially lived off the government for the last two decades as a career politician who has never worked a regular job.

Unbelievable.

Once upon a time I would have never seen myself thinking, ‘why yes, I’d like that former banker to lead our country’ but again, this is here and now and this is our reality. The Liberal leader is endearing himself to voters by making videos evoking Canadian patriotism with Mike Meyers for god’s sake. And somehow, it actually comes across as genuine? Or at least, not disingenuous?

I’m a little tired of hearing how much the other guys suck. All of you kinda suck, just tell me what you’re going to do for Canada that doesn’t suck. How are you going to move forward with Truth and Reconciliation? What are you going to do to protect trans kids? How are you going to start fixing the housing crisis? The opioid crisis? The very threat to our sovereignty?

Don’t tell me how the other guy(s) are going to tear it down; tell me how you’re going to build it back up.

In another life I’d written the following words many many times: You need to vote. It is an inalienable right we have as a democratic nation. People around the world die for the opportunity.

Voting for a Conservative majority or even minority is asking for fascism. Not voting is asking for fascism. Spoiling your ballot is asking for fascism.

The only way to say no to fascism, right now, is to not vote Conservative.

I know this sounds like hyperbole. I know it sounds like catastrophizing. But the US electorate didn’t take the looming threat and warnings seriously and look what’s happened.

University students are being taken and deported. People are being taken and sold to slave labour camps in El Salvador. Social Security and Medicare are about to be axed. They’re trying to shut down the Department of Education. Some ketamine-riddled dumbass has all their private information. The lunatics are literally running the asylum. Some of the stupidest people on Earth now have access to the scariest weapons on Earth and throw a hissy fit if you don’t kiss their asses. They want to annex us and take everything we have and destroy everything we hold dear.

And certain Canadian politicians will roll over and let it happen.

Don’t let them.

Election Day is April 28.

Do NOT fuck this up, Canada.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

The Dumbest Timeline

There are few things I thought would happen once that Orange Shitbag was handed the keys to the kingdom of America, but uniting the Canadian people wasn’t necessarily one of them.

Given the divisive campaign the Canadian Conservatives are running with the Other Shitbag at the helm, I was afraid that we were heading down a similar path. That PP would drive the wedge between the convoy Nazis and the rest of us even further than it was going…

Not that we’re all singing kumbaya around the campfire or anything, but nothing seems to unite a country than a good old fashioned Trade War and risk to sovereignty.

The latter has become less of a joke and more of an idle threat, especially after Trudeau’s hot mic episode last week. What are the odds of the US military driving a tank through our ports of entry? Would they actually listen and do it if Orange Shitbag orders them to?

Some folks say that yelling at the people that chose not to vote is useless, because what’s done is done, but I really think those people still need to hang their heads in shame for what they’ve allowed to happen. Like, really show some remorse for what they’ve unleashed upon the world. You know, like Germany had to for decades.

But they’re American, so we all know that won’t happen.

Normally here is where I’d say “I’m sorry, but…” and launch into an explanation or something, but I’m not going to lean into the Canadian stereotype of apologizing for my words. You done fucked up, America. Even worse than you did the first time BECAUSE YOU LEARNED ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Alright, I’m done venting about that now.

Writing about this is almost a lesson in futility, since things are changing so rapidly. There’s no time to even process what’s happening before the next stupid thing happens.

There’s nothing we can do about what’s happened in the US. However, we can prevent things from getting worse here. Other Shitbag and the Conservatives cannot be allowed to gain power here. I know we have long been a country of flip flopping between Liberal and Conservative governments whenever one of them pisses enough of the country off.

We can’t do that this time, Canada.

We cannot allow what happened to our neighbours to the south to happen here. I know so many people hate Justin Trudeau, but good god, don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. He’s stepping down. Mark Carny will likely be the next Liberal leader, he will stand up for us; Other Shitbag will thank Orange Shitbag and ask for another.

Do not obey in advance.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

Dawn of the New Year – 364 days remain

So the dawn has actually come and gone, but whatever.

The house has felt ridiculously quiet since Dante’s been gone. I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye, but of course there’s nothing there when I turn.

Stormy hasn’t been doing well. Dante was there for her entire life, and now he’s not. She cries when I leave the room, even if I’m just going into the kitchen or the bathroom. She knows I’m there, but is still getting upset like she’s been abandoned.

Leaving for a week to go to Victoria for Christmas probably didn’t help the situation. When I booked the trip, she wasn’t alone. She was going to have Dante with her.

Sigh.

She needs a friend. Or two. I wasn’t planning to do this for a while, because to be honest I’m still mourning Dante. But after five days of her wandering the house at night sounding so lost and alone it broke my heart to hear, I reached out to a local animal rescue and have adopted a pair of kittens.

They are boys, both black, about 14 weeks old. I’d seen them on the rescue’s FB page back in October and figured they’d get snapped up, but no one wanted them.

Maybe they were waiting for me and Stormy?

They are currently living in the spare room and are slowly getting acclimatized. The smaller of the two let me pet him without darting away and even gave me purrs. The bigger one — who is gong to have the grumpiest face I can already tell — is not flinching as much but still pulls away and hides the most.

Stormy knows they’re there… she gives the room a hiss every now and then and did a little growl when I showed her the little one… but she didn’t cry nearly as much that first night. She even trilled a little.

That gives me all the hope.

After much deliberation and consultation with stupid articles about what to name black cats, I’m decided on their new names.

The smaller one is mischievous and loves attention, his name is Loki.

The larger one has the most serious face I’ve ever seen on a kitten that I have no choice but to call him Sirius. It’s either that or a name befitting a human accountant.

And before anyone makes a comment about it, fuck TERFs, and fuck JK Rowling and all her TERF-ness. She doesn’t own the name of the brightest star in the sky.

I will update on how the introductions with Stormy goes down.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

Saying goodbye

My heart is completely broken.

Yesterday, almost without warning, I had to put my oldest cat down. I have never had to do that before (we’ve always had indoor/outdoor cats that would just wander off and not come home when it was their time) and good god I don’t want to do it again, even though I will have to eventually.

Dante was 18 years old, which I know is old as hell for a cat. He’s been slowing down considerably for the past year and a bit, but it wasn’t until yesterday morning when he just didn’t get up for his food and tried to stagger to his feet but wobbled and sat back down… he hadn’t used the litter box and just wasn’t himself.

I called the vet and made an appointment. He also had something weird going on with his eye (looked like blood in the iris) so while part of me just wanted to get him looked at, the other part, well…

The worst part was getting him into the carrier. I have never seen him fight that hard; hissing and spitting and swiping…much thanks to Jamie for helping with that… but that reaction made me question if he really was at his end. If he’s fighting that hard, maybe he’s okay? But a sick/injured animal will attack if feeling threatened, and in my logical brain I know that. But this is my baby, my familiar… I don’t want to lose him.

He wasn’t any better when we got to the vet. The vet couldn’t do an exam with how aggressive Dante was, sedation isn’t the best idea considering his age, but the eye blood was very concerning, and everything else was just… once again, many thanks to Jamie advocating for me when I was crying too hard to form words. Putting Dante through a bunch of testing to just go home, wait for results, only to find out that he’s got cancer or his kidneys are failing and have to go through the literal trauma of bringing him back to the vet for the inevitable just… didn’t seem fair to him. He would have gone into hiding once we got home and that’s not how I’d want his last days to be.

So I made the call that it was time.

They went to give him the sedation, through the carrier and with kitty gauntlets on…they even had to muzzle him which made me cry even harder, but they took it off once I held him. I felt like a monster.

But I saw it through to the end. I was not going to let him go alone around strangers.

And the he was gone.

I got Dante when I first moved up north. He was my first friend here, with his too big ears and tail, I knew he’d be a beast of a cat someday. He would sleep by my face and crawl over my head when I rolled over. He wasn’t the cuddliest cat back then, he’d rather sit beside me than on me, but he was always waiting for me at the door.

The older he got, the more willing he was to sit on me. When I had to have an emergency appendectomy and couldn’t have any weight on my belly, he waited so patiently to sit the way he normally would, and avoided that side of my stomach for a whole week.

He was the only cat I ever knew that loved having his belly rubbed. He’d run down the hallway ahead of me, turn around, and flop down onto his side. If I walked by without giving the belly rubs, he’d yowl at me. He’d also hop up onto the bed and flop over there too. He didn’t do it much in the last year or two… he wasn’t as spry as he used to me.

His name came about as a joke like six months before I got him. I was working for a landscaping company and we were talking about getting goats to eat the grass for us. When thinking of names for our imaginary goats, I said I’d call one of them Dante. After our goat dreams were kiboshed, I said I’d name my first cat Dante after the goat I’d never have… and I did.

He spent his the majority of his life inside my apartment in Fort St. John, but when I moved to Dawson Creek, he got to touch grass for the first time. He hated it.

His favourite place to be in the last few years was on the couch, on my legs, but only if I was covered by a blanket. He was always annoyed during the summer when the couch blanket went away for the season, because heaven forbid he actually touch my legs.

He used to be able to jump to the top of the bookcase, and he’d knock the Knick-knacks off the shelf below him. He’d look me dead in the eye while he did it.

He went by many names, aside from his given. He was my handsome boy, mister man, mister Dante butthead, baby boo, bubbies, baby boo bubalub, fuzzy butt, grumpus…

I love him. I miss him. I’ve cried so much my whole face hurts and I’m probably dehydrated.

Me and Stormy will figure out how we’re going to adapt without him, but for now, I just wish I could hug him.

– A.

by Aleisha Hendry

Been a while

I have been sitting on this blog for like four years and you’d think I’d have had a ton of things to say in that time, but apparently I had nothing.

That’s impressive in a totally not impressive way.

I can recall starting a post here and there during the pandemic, but for some reason I never saved any of the drafts and couldn’t bring myself to hit ‘publish.’

However, I literally just got the notification that I’m being charged for this, so I’ve decided to give it another shot and try using it SINCE I’M PAYING FOR IT. Maybe folks will read, maybe they won’t. We’ll see how it goes.

The world is a dumpster fire right now, and I think I need this as an outlet to vent my frustrations. I don’t think anyone ever thought they’d be around to see the fall of the American Empire, but here we are. History in real time.

So yeah, I’m gonna try writing more. Hope you’ll join me.

-A

by Aleisha Hendry

I Believe You

I keep watching all the shit going on in the U.S. right now and I just want to throat punch someone.

The sheer number of people who are all for giving men a free pass for shit they did as teenagers is absolutely appalling.

The bullshit coming out of the U.S. over Brett Kavanaugh and his alleged assaults and inappropriate behaviour towards women in his younger days should literally bar him from sitting on the supreme court, or any court for that matter. I don’t understand how this is even a question. How can you trust the judgement of someone that apparently had no qualms about attempting to rape someone and laughed their ass off while doing it?

Wouldn’t you think that he’d have his own biases when judging cases like that? That he’d be more likely to side with the accused because he himself did things like that and clearly the victim is just making shit up because it’s not that big a deal?

This is sending a horrific message to young girls – if a guy takes his dick out and trys to shove it in your face, you should just, I dunno, laugh about it? Or if he holds you down and tries to put his dick inside you, you should just chalk it up to being a youthful indescretion? What the actual fuck?

And then hearing the goddamn president literally dismiss the accusations as an attempt to ruin the life of his personal pick for SCOTUS when he himself has been accused of sexual assault…

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Girls, I know it seems like no one cares about what happened to you. Hearing the people in power dismiss your feelings or call you a liar is disheartening. It feels like you should just give up and try to forget about it because what good will it do if no one believes you?

But there are people that believe you. I believe you. Please don’t give up or give in to dispair. There are people out there willing to help.

I believe Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I believe survivors of sexual assault.

If you have been assaulted, please tell someone. Doesn’t matter who, just find someone you trust. If you feel like you can report it to the police, please do so. Those that would harm you need to be held accountable for their crimes.

It’s going to be an uphill battle, but it can be won.

I have to believe that.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

A Year of Yarn

According to Facebook Memories, it’s been just over a year since I picked up those crochet hooks at that Walmart in Montana and returned to Canada to root through that bin of yarn Mom had in her basement.

Oh what a year it’s been.

The whole reason I started crocheting was to stave off the likely inevitable osteoarthritis that runs in the hands of women in my family. Grandma has it pretty bad, and Mom’s got it started, so keeping the fingers limber and active seemed like a good idea.

Idle hands and all that.

We picked up a few different sized hooks and I pulled a bunch of yarn out. It turns out you can learn any damn thing by watching YouTube videos.

So I found a video for beginners and got started.

My first and second attempt. Good god these are awful.

I actually enjoy reptitive tasks; I find it meditative. It’s easier for me to think and I’ve come up with some of my most epic creative ideas while doing such repetitive tasks. Basic crochet is literally just repetition – row after row of the same motion for as long as you want.

Where has this been all my life?!

I started off easy – trying to make squares and maybe add a boarder – just trying to master the basic single crochet stitch.
I started gaining the confidence to try different stitches and patterns and my work started to get more and more esthetically pleasing. Hell, they were good enough that I started giving them away to friends.

At the same time I made hats and handwarmers and scarves, all fairly straightforward projects that were functional and could be worn and shown off.

The sheer number of hats and stuff I made over the winter, just to keep myself busy while sitting in the truck or the medic shack all day, was insane. Watch an instructional video a few times, get the pattern down pat, and go for it.

Then I got on a blanket kick and started doing infinite granny square blankets, which were a nice little project for sitting in the truck. They were square and large enough to cover one’s lap while reading on the couch or something.

And then I discovered amigurumi.

Making little animals and people and things that were small and cute was fun and fairly easy…once I got the whole magic ring down anyway.

I made cats and owls and octopi, I even found a pattern for Porgs! I love Porgs! You could crochet pretty much anything from nerd culture and it was amazing.

But I think I may have found my calling when I came across a patten for a spooky little Nightmare Before Christmas type doll. It had more pieces than anything I’d done before, but the stitches were basic so I bought the pattern and gave it a go.

This is the end result.

I want a kitty hat too, I should make one.

I look at this doll and I’m stunned that I actually made it. She tool three days and something like 15 hours, but it was so satisfying to finish, moreso than the other stuff I’d made.

The fact that I’ve gone from that first photo to the one above in a little over a year is pretty awesome, I think.

Looking forward to many more yarn years to come.

-A.

by Aleisha Hendry

Tell me a story…

So as I wrote in another post a while back, I’ve been working on my fiction writing skills.

After several attempts to turn words into coherent sentences, I finally got a short story written, revised, edited and submitted to a lit magazine contest.

Pulp Literature’s Hummingbird Flash Fiction contest was for stories under 1000 words and could be about pretty much anything. Coming off a decade in journalism where you write clear, concise, and to-the-point articles, writing a flash fiction story felt more natural than trying to world-build and extensive character development.

Is that a cop out? I dunno, perhaps.

So I hummed and hawed and questioned myself and doubted myself and let my anxiety run away with me for a bit before hitting ‘submit’ on the website.

And then it went to the back of my mind and I almost forgot about it.

In the meantime I worked on some other stories – I wrote three pages of a post-apocalyptic dystopian story that got wiped from my hard drive and started on a creative non-fiction piece, which is more in my wheelhouse – and just kept going.

Then I got an email one night saying my wee little story made the longlist for the contest. That means it was good enough to be considered for the top prize. That means it wasn’t terrible.

If that’s not pure validation I don’t know what is. Considering all I was expecting was a critique of the story, this was very exciting.

I didn’t make it any farther than the longlist, but I still feel pretty accomplished.

Now, I had a few people as to read to the story, because of course they do, why wouldn’t they? But I am reluctant to share the story at this point in time.

Why? Because it’s about a mass shooting in a grocery store.

You may have heard about a similar situation in the states at a Trader Joe’s in Los Angeles on July 21. This was a coincidence to the nth degree, though I suppose it was only a matter of time before mass shootings in the states went from schools, movie theatres, and churches to the local supermarket.

Another “why” folks may be asking is, why did I write about such a bleak subject? My short story ideas come from a list of nightmares I’ve had over the years. If the dream is vivid enough that I actually remember it, I usually write down the gist of what happened and use it as a story prompt. One of those was about hiding amongst the hot dogs while someone was holding shoppers hostage at some random store.

So, yeah. It would be a bit insensitive to post the story here where the public can see it. Maybe some day, but not right now.

For the time being, I’m just gonna keep plugging away on my little Chromebook and get some more of these ideas out of my head.

Wish me luck.

-A.

UPDATE: I received the critique on this story last night and it was positively glowing. A couple things to change, but beyond that all positive feedback. I really don’t suck after all!

by Aleisha Hendry

Something old, something new

Once upon a time, not really all that long ago, I wrote a weekly opinion column for a local newspaper. Facebook informed me today that the column would have been seven years old this week. That’s a long time to be writing a column.

I’ve missed giving hot takes on the happenings on the local, provincial, national, and international level, so I think it’s high time I got back in the writing saddle. Facebook posts and Twitter threads just aren’t the same.

I’m going to aim for a Friday publish day for an official “column” and just other random postings whenever it strikes my fancy. I’ve tried to make a go of blogs in the past, but it’s not really worked out. Fingers crossed I can keep this one going.

I likely won’t have a piece this Friday, but you never know. Dec. 22 for sure though.

And since the tagline says there will be more F-Bombs, I’ll end this intro post on this:

Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck!

God that feels good.

-A