The Christmas decor is staying up
By Andrea Sadowski
Christmas has come and gone. The cookies have been eaten, Santa is on vacation, and little baby Jesus is two weeks old already. However, gold tinsel and string lights will continue to outline the walls of my kitchen and living room. The little fake tree with gold beads and bobbles will remain in the corner next to the tv. Garlands of green, gold, and silver will abide on my door frame that was once framing a garage door but now leads to the rest of my house. The paper snowflakes I spent hours cutting and twisting and taping will linger, suspended from the ceiling. The flashing outdoor lights of every color will prevail, despite now having to shine under a blanket of snow. The orange slices I dried in my stove and strung onto a long stick that I found in the forest will stay put on my wall. The pine cones will stay placed serendipitously throughout the house because my roommate (a cat) loves batting them around. The Christmas decor will endure because I fear that my cold basement suite will feel empty and hollow now without it. I don’t want to say goodbye to the twinkling lights that increase my hydro bill or the hand-crafted snowflakes that never need to be shovelled. I don’t even like Christmas that much, but I am prepared to keep these decorations up until summer.
No more spiders, please.
By Sydney Marchand
I wouldn’t consider myself an arachnophobe. I can tolerate our little eight-legged spider friends because I know that they help to keep other annoying bugs, like mosquitos, away. But I live in an older house that has mediocre door and window seals. This means that when fall comes around, they basically have full access to take refuge from the rain by sneaking into the tiny gaps and holes in my house. Sure, I tolerate bugs in the great outdoors because that’s where they are meant to be – outdoors. Yes, we can live harmoniously in nature, but as soon as they find their way into my home, they anger me more than anything.
I have a fear that they will find their way into my shoes or scurry into my coat closet and hide in my pockets. My house is supposed to be a safe place, dammit. It is supposed to be a safe space that is spider- and bug-free! The silver lining of this winter wave of snow is that my house is spider-free – at last! Whether they have died off for the season or are hibernating far away, the snow seems to have prevented them from wandering into my home. So, despite my hatred of driving in blizzards and shoveling the snow in my driveway, I can honestly say that my spiderless house was a welcomed holiday surprise.
Early pandemic vibes
By Kait Thompson
I moved into my two bedroom apartment the weekend of March 15, 2020 with a Pinterest board and a dream (and a ‘roommate wanted’ ad on Craigslist). I had the week off work to move, catch up on school work, and generally sort my life out – I had been burning the candle at both ends for a while, working and attending night classes. Anybody who has tried to make a lifestyle out of sleep deprivation can tell you that you start to get sick more often – I’d had a bad cold since Valentine’s Day.
We all know what happened next: the lockdowns started, and I had to extend my time off work to comply with the new ‘guidelines.’ Panic gripped my germaphobic landlord, my building halted their acceptance of new tenants, and my potential roommate had to find other options. I didn’t even have the internet set up yet to connect me to the outside world. I remember laying on the floor in my living room amongst my half-unpacked boxes and piles of cardboard, congested and feeling completely surreal.
Those first few weeks of the pandemic feel distant and strange. I hear this sentiment echoed among friends and family. Now long enough to sort into ‘eras,’ this pandemic life has shifted and grown with us, every season bringing a new neurosis that feels distinct in its aesthetic.
Hockey broke my heart
By Steve Hartwig
My romance with ice hockey started as a crush in elementary school. The first time I entered a skating rink, smelled the unique arena odors, and heard the crunch of skates digging deeply into the ice, I fell hard. Every year since, my passion for ice hockey has increased as I worked on our relationship. I wanted to fit in so badly that I grew a mullet and wore plaid socks. I played every opportunity offered to me. I sharpened my skates regularly. Even when new players joined the team, I participated enthusiastically or sat on the bench watching every game I could. I bought new equipment yearly, never forgetting which dates were spring clearance sales, Black Friday, Boxing Day – I even ordered through Canadian Tire catalogues. I paid homage to the Canadian hockey gods every week on Hockey Night in Canada.
2020 was a trying year with the pandemic, but everyone understood and did their part, and we made it through. Before we knew it, a fresh start and a new hockey season was before us. But it was all in vain. 2021 was the year hockey broke my heart. Games were cancelled. Arenas closed. Ice rinks melted. The sharp edges we once had on our skates dulled. Although I’ve left my hockey gear on the drying rack, the post-coital smell is long gone. I’m sorry, ice hockey; I’m leaving you for scuba diving.
Images: Iryna Presley/The Cascade
Andrea Sadowski is working towards her BA in Global Development Studies, with a minor in anthropology and Mennonite studies. When she's not sitting in front of her computer, Andrea enjoys climbing mountains, sleeping outside, cooking delicious plant-based food, talking to animals, and dismantling the patriarchy.
Sydney is a BA English major, creative writing student, who has been a content contributor for The Cascade and is now the Opinion editor. In 7th grade, she won $100 in a writing contest but hasn’t made an earning from writing since. In the meantime, she is hoping that her half-written novels will write themselves, be published, and help pay the bills.
The Managing Editor is responsible for providing support to the Executive Editor in respect to editorial workflow and administration, and an educational resource for sectional editors and volunteers. The Managing Editor is also responsible for internal editorial and volunteer relations.
Steve is a third-year BFA creative writing/visual arts student who’s been a contributing writer, staff writer and now an editor at The Cascade. He's always found stories and adventures but now has the joy of capturing and reporting them.
