Friday, February 29, 2008


I have this rock on my desk. A geod or whatever they are called from my mom. she left it when she moved so it is sitting here.
The outside of it is rough. The inside smooth with layers and layers of agates formed when other creatures walked this earth.
Sometimes I look at that rock and think of everything it has been through. Centuries of history. Everything I can think of and I know the rock was already here on this earth. Like when Christ was born, or when Napoleon ruled, or when something happened to Amelia Earhart. This rock was here somewhere.
And for my short lifetime, this rock is sitting on my desk.


Thursday, February 28, 2008

My bro is on his way

I get to see my brand new nephew Wyatt. I get to see my nephews and niece, Napesni,Inyan, and Mika. I get to see my seester in law, and my bro!

I'm just stoked. I am working on the invitations now.

Here is what they will look like.

The last time we had a birthday party together, we were sweet, young, and innocent.


Thank God ONE of us still is! Come party with us at The 20 Bar on Leap Year Night (2/29/72) between 7 and 8pm.

So I still have to work all day tomorrow it's ok, I love the job and can't wait till tomorrow night.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Modern Day Warrior

OK I shouldn't be so hard on Cassie Edwards. I mean her books are "historical romances." I mean maybe dudes did look like that back in the day. Ab's were ripped and six packs were something they didn't drink. Hair was flowing and the settler wimminz just wanted to get in thier geech cloth. I lke how all of her books re called Savage: Savage Moon, Savage Lust, Savage Heart, Savage Love.

Ha, savage my ass.

Again, so romanticized. Seriously, it's like watching Brad Pitt with the bear in Legends of the Fall. Some of the guys I know today run from dogs.
Anyway, whatever.

Now that is just sickening. I could care less if a team is called Indians or whatnot, but when people dress up like this it's just stupid. whatever.

That is a real warrior from days gone by. Rain In The Face.

So our men today don't look like the ripped men on Cassie Edwards novels. So they don't know what the word romantic means and have wide feet. So they might get and give hickeys past their teens. So they shine in the dark and really would walk a mile for frybread.

They can still invent games like ghetto jenga and make you laugh.
(my brother)

They will always be there for their mothers, daughters, and sisters. They are still warriors to the women in their family.

(my daddy)

Happy Birthday to my Grandpa Hobart, (not pictured) he's still a badass warrior at 73.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The "Feel Good" Columnist

I am just that. Seriously. Some of my bitching, moaning, and whining that you see here don't make print. I guess they leave that to the men. Not saying anything against it, I could make big issues out of things too, but I try not too.

Example: When Nicholas Cage was quoted saying in USA Today this about the Sacred Paha Sapa after filming National Treasure "That was my favorite location because you can really see into that countryside why the Native Americans thought that was sacred ground," Cage says.
I could almost hear a collective "oooooooooh."
See now I could make a big issue of it, other than partially blog about it. I could stomp my feet, light a match and write in my weekly column about it. I could point out Mr. Cage's ignorance about how we don't think the Black Hills are sacred, we KNOW they are. Bit I assume that other than working in the Black Hills, he only saw it as any other tourist would, with the taffy pulling shops, gunsliging reenacting,Made in China snowglobe, tiny spoon, plastic fake wild west of it all.
But why bitch...I mean he did go on to say "There was a symmetry and harmony to the nature there, the way the trees are embedded in the hills with the rocks, and there are these very still pools of water."
Which is very true. It all comes down to the Black Hills.
Most people see the beauty, the plastic, and see why we Lakota love them.
What most of those people don't know is that we came from the Black Hills, that it is and always will be ours, no matter who sets up sweatshop produced souvenir shops there. They always were and always will be sacred and ours.
So yeah, I could say all that, but...
Chances of it getting printed. Zero to Slim.
Because I am the "Feel Good" columnist. I make people think, laugh, and see glittery sunsets.
Besides, I can always bitch on my blog. (Hilary, you're next)

Vote here for Standing Horse on Pow Wow Idol

PS-I really am a Nicholas Cage fan, every since Valley Girl.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Don't Call Me Maiden

(Blasting the Romanticism)
What I mean by romanticism doesn’t involve the romance between an Indian man and woman, because quiet honestly the most romantic you get from a guy is when he’s staring at you and you think he is having a “moment” and he says “What happened to your moustache?” Or maybe it’s when you tell your guy “Please crack that window BEFORE you come out of the bathroom.”
So I was googling the term “Native American T Shirts” and all these images popped up of what people like to think we look like.
First off they called us women “Native Maidens.” With my four kids, it’s more like Maid. All the pictures had these women with long hair blowing in the wind, off the shoulder buckskin dresses, knee high moccasins, and a wolf by their sides. One was sitting by a flowing river with a wolf and an eagle flying overhead as she put good thoughts into the dream catcher she was making.
I am sorry to burst anyone’s bubble who doesn’t live on a rez or never been to one but that is so not right. I mean if you want to wear a T-shirt of that picture fine.
BUT, here is the truth.
The woman will be wearing he ex’s All Tourney T shirt with holes in it and her most comfy pair of yoga pants even if she never did yoga, not even once in her life. She will be barefoot, on her couch watching some reality show on TV as she beads and her only thoughts as she beads are gas money, snacks, and cig money. There is no wolf, maybe just a cat or mangy dog and 3 or 4 kids running around until she screams at them to “Behave or else.”
I think it’s funny to see the romantic perceptions some people come up with. Like End of the Trail. I know so many people who hate that and sometimes I do incorporate it into my beadwork because it sells. Nobody knows the only real End of the Trail that I ever saw was an unnamed relative on a barstool, hanging on for dear life.
It is up to you, if you believe in the Land O Lakes Butter girl, that’s fine. I really do know the lady who posed for that, (Hi Juanita) She doesn’t really sit around and hold butter to the rising sun all day, but you can believe it if you want.
You can also believe that I am sitting by the river with my beaded laptop typing this as wolves howl, eagles fly overhead, the moon is rising, my moccasins are propped up, and my unzeki is sore from sitting.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Bringing It Back To Blogger

With everything that is going on in my life, I kind of felt like I lost my writing. something that was so important to me all of my life and it was gone.

Maybe it was the social online networking so much that did it. Maybe it was my RL drama. Either way, it's time to just write for me, if you read it and come back that's fine. (Typos and all)

I don't know who is reading from Kansas, but I am kind of hoping it's the kingpin who inspired my writing, named my column, and I hope he is still writing, at least just for himself.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008


I saw that in a magazine once. TGIWTB stands for The Girl I Want To Be. You know who The Girl (or guy) you want to be is...they always seem so perfect, never leaving crumbs on their shirt, or spilling their drink, even their sneezes are cute.
So here is how I found TGIWTB.

TGIWTB started at a young age. I was about 4 or maybe three years old when I wanted to look like my Barbies. I couldn't understand why no one ever looked like their dolls.
Then we moved away to the city at age 6 and TGIWTB turned into everyone of my classmates. They all looked like bigger versions of my Barbies and I felt inferior.
When I grew into a teen, I wanted to be more outspoken. I wanted people to know that even though I was shy, I did have an opinion.
When I became an adult, TGIWTB stood up for herself. She didn't let anyone take her down a notch. She let people see her inner strength and showed her pride in herself, her people, and her children.
In my 30's, TGIWTB is me.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

My Mortal Enemy

You are so mean. What's with the nine minutes instead of ten? That extra minute would feel so good. that extra minute would probably not deprive me of energy like the nine do, make me drink tons of strong coffee and put a little extra pep in my step.

I hate you snooze button. I curse you. You are a big fake by letting me think that 9 extra minutes is enough, it is NOTHING!

(So yeah, it's Tuesday but I feel like it's Monday.)

Friday, February 15, 2008


Dearest Michael,

I know you hate it when I call you Michael...but you love it too. When I met you 8 years ago, there was a reason. I saw you walk in that day to the bar and I knew your secret from the start, but I didn't tell anyone. I let girls fall in love with you but I knew who you were and I still loved you. I pulled you out of the closet and I am so glad you did come out. I spent so many nights working with you, laughing at the fat ass chick and prissy ass chicks that hated us, going to the "gay dance" because we lived in a town so small there was no such thing as gay bar. I remember you being there for me in all the times I needed a friend, even throughout my abusive relationship you would come over and light a cigarette and talk to me. When I moved to Minnesota with my kids, you supported me and told me if I ever needed anything to call you. And I did, I needed you. You came, you helped, and you loved my children also. We loved you back. Michael, I don't know what happened, or why, but you are gone now and I regret losing touch with you. I don't know why I bought the newspaper yesterday because I never do, but I just did. and there you were, where I never thought I would see you. I never got to say that I love you for being who you were in this world. and I will never let life go by anymore without telling my friends that I love them.

I don't even know where I can see you, or why there are no services... so I am posting this on the internet and hope you have a hell of a connection up there.

I will never forget you, my boy.


PS-Remember the time we stayed up drinking Killians and wrapping presents...and I fell off the couch and you said my kids woke up and thought Santa landed? LOL.

The flap of a butterfly's wing

I had an awesome Valentine's Day. Like the best ever, even though some of my friends crashed it.

Anyway, I haven't been myself blogging lately, for like all of 2008. Which is the reason for the repost yesterday.

I was going to write about TGIWTB today, but I will save it for next week.

I kind of want to hit on timing right now.

Do you believe in timing?

Like there is a time and place for everything?

Kind of like, the blog I once asked if you believe that a butterfly on the other side of the world can control your destiny by the flap of it's wings?

Or do you think your destiny is in your hands?

Do you see your destiny unfold in front of you like a flower blooming?

Or do you think you are the one unfolding it?

Do you believe that there is a time and place for everything and if you mess with that, it could cause an avalanche of sorts?

Or do you think it can happen without you?

Without the flap of that butterfly's wing on the other side of the world, would your world be the way it is now?

Thursday, February 14, 2008

For Those who didn't see this shit the first time. -Warning a repost-

Sorry it's a repost for new readers so you know whatsup.

Let Me Believe
(my non fluffy blog for today) When I was in 3rd or 4th grade, I was taught that Columbus sailed the ocean blue and discovered America...discovered us. I think in 7th grade I was taught about Leif Erickson. That he was really the one. I was taught about the Bering Strait Theory (note: Wikipedia told me Theory) and my kids are still taught that today.
In fact, I got into an argument with a teacher one year, as she so defiantly told me how wrong I was. I told her that just because she didn't know, have proof that we was always here doesn't mean we wasn't.
History for us did not start when someone landed here. So we didn't write it down. We still pass this on orally. We was taught and are still being taught today that the ancestors of all of us indigenous people of North, Central, South America crossed over from Siberia on a tiny strip of land and migrated all the way to Chile.
I was even told that my people, the Sioux, went all the way to the Carolina's. Then we were chased back by the approaching Europeans to Minnesota. Then from Minnesota we was chased to the Dakotas by the Ojibwe.
My people the Sioux, turn and run? Whatever! Our ancestors fought to the end for their land. We have many great chiefs and warriors in our tribe that fought hard, gave their lives. A proud warrior were the ones that didn't come back from battle and we were run off?
I don't know anyone in my family that believes this. We were nomadic up until they forced us on a reservation, after many battles. But we didn't run.
I will tell you straight out that we have our own Creation story. We know and believe we was always here. Roaming the land surrounding the Sacred Black Hills. Pa ha Sapa. I don't want to get into the creation story on this because I know it will be dissected and mutilated by non believers. By closed mind individuals that think I descended from Siberia. My kids know this story, their kids will know this story.
I am from here. My people are from here. We was always here. Our history started with that creation story and I wished I could tell it to you but I have gotten into many comment wars with quite a few people back when everyone was blogging about "illegal immigrants."
The fact that I believe my people was always here is so far fetched to some people they have a hernia over it.
OK I exaggerated that, but Jesus, Joseph and Mary....nobody will die if i state what I believe. Look, I even capitalized their names before I took them in vain.
I can dig deep in my soul and find it in my heart to let you believe that at one time there was only one man and one woman who ran around naked in a garden. I will even believe that you believe that there was a talking snake who tricked the chick into eating an apple that made her see naked. I can respect the Big Bang theory. You know things get hot, temperatures rise....then Bang! Planets, moons, sun...everywhere.
If you believe we evolved from monkeys, roaches (NOT ME!), rats, pond scum, alfalfa sprouts, or shower mold (ew)...OK...alrighty....I won't argue with that.
Whether it's science or religion, Jesus hanging on a cross or walking with dinosaurs, Bibles or Greek Myths, opposable thumbs or Pandora's Box...I am fine with your beliefs.
But why is it so easy to believe that the beautiful indigenous people of the Americas wasn't always here?
Why is it so hard to respect our belief that we was?
I find it in my heart and soul to respect and embrace the beliefs of many different peoples and cultures. Please respect mine.
After all, a couple of months ago you all thought Pluto was a planet.
(I totally knew it wasn't! ;) Thursday October 26, 2006 - 02:16pm (MDT)

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I'm not mean, I just stand up for myself. (column entry)

The Legend of “The Mean, Indian Woman”

People always say that. “Indian women are mean.” I get emails all the time from people and there are jokes about “mean Indian women.” in the emails.

I don’t think of myself as a mean Indian woman. I have my flaws but being mean isn’t one of them. I’m not the type who thrives on drama, I detest it. I would never fight over a man or break windows out over a man I didn’t want. I’m not barbaric like that. In fact at least 95% of the people that really know me, which is about 8, will tell you I am a nice person. This wouldn’t include any siblings or ex’s.

But I admit, sometimes I see a little bit of a “mean Indian woman” streak in me that I am sure is genetic and goes generations back.

Like the myth of the woman in our family who years ago beat a middle school art teachers for making her daughter scrub the classroom floor with a toothbrush. She beat him so hard with her purse that her food stamps flew out and landed everywhere in the classroom like confetti. She continued to chew him out as she picked every one of them off the floor.

Or like my great grandma who used to cut everyone’s bangs on every visit with shaky hands and the biggest, shiniest silver scissors there ever was. All while cutting your hair you could hear the scissors right by your ear, she would warn you of certain death as soon as the year 2000 came and the world ended. She never made it to see that I indeed lived through Y2K but I admit I was fearful up until the clock struck 12:01 am that night.

I will admit sometimes this “mean Indian woman” streak in me will surface. Like when playing board games, which I don’t think is my fault. I mean if it’s a multi-player game I get ganged up on. If it’s Scrabble, I get accused of making up words that I know are words. I know that phalange has something to do with your foot and qat is a tree. My grandma told me so. If it’s a two person game like chess I get accused of making up new rules. So my children or siblings won’t play any board games with me for fear of flying game pieces.

Sometimes I don’t mean to look mean, but it ends up that way. Like the time I was shopping in Kmart with my two oldest boys, who were 3 and 4 at the time. I will admit to passing through the lingerie department with my sons just to see the embarrassment on their faces, even to this day. But on that day, I was drawn to a clearance rack like a bee to honey, (another “Indian woman trait.”) One of my sons was standing on the end of the cart and the other was inside the cart. I let go to see if this shirt was really 50 cents when the cart flipped from the weight of the one standing on the end. The one on the inside of the cart was then catapulted into the other one and they flew out and off the cart into a pile on the floor. The cart landed on its side and all you could hear were the wheels spinning and my boys whimpering like pups.

I was trying to contain my laughter as I ran to them to ask them if they were ok. By the time I peeled them off the floor and checked them to make sure there was no permanent brain damage I was laughing so hard that when I kissed them and asked them if they was better, I sounded all evil. Other moms were glaring at me like I routinely flip my kids in carts like pancakes. They made me out to be Joan Crawford.

And I am not mean. And if people like to say Indian woman are mean, can you imagine everything they had to do back in the day. What would you do now if your man came up to you and said “Hey woman, take the tipi down, pack everything up so we can walk hundreds of miles to follow buffalo. Once there, put the tipi back up, unpack, and wait for me to come back and tell you where the buffalo is. You may then drag it back, butcher it, prepare it, cook it, dry it, scrape the hides make everyone clothing and then make me chonies out of the scrap leather.”

Now we would say hell no!

So I probably do come from a long line of “mean Indian women” who always stood up for themselves, but I really am a good hearted person and nice enough mom.

Then again, there was the one time I made one kid be a Republican and one a Democrat for Halloween…

Monday, February 11, 2008

Love, Sweet Love

I have this friend that told me he don't believe in love.

That he grew up with a mom who was strict and didn't show emotions. So therefore to him there is no such thing as love...only compatibility.

I was shocked to hear such. I'm not lucky in love...I know this. I always wondered how it would be to celebrate anniversaries and whatnot. to go back to the spot you fell in love with someone, or to be able to tell your daughter the tale of what it was like the minute you knew you fell in love with her father.

I don't have that.

But I do have this. I have fallen in love many times. Maybe too easily and sometimes probably just with the thought of falling in love, but I have loved.

When I love I throw myself headfirst into it and revel in it at first. Then as the love grows and becomes more consistent, I learn to appreciate it for being what it is. Love. Pure and simple.

I have been hurt because of love also, but I got over it. I am ok. I personally feel as if love is an opportunity that you have in life. It's just up to you to take the chance, the risk, the opportunity. Otherwise, how can you know what it is?

If I should die before I awake, I do know that in this lifetime I have loved. And have I ever.

Just how the hell do you not believe in love?

Random Writing Challenge Number 13

This is for The Random Writing Challenge Writer's group I am in.

She crouched in the corner and waited.
She felt like she lived her whole life, crouching and waiting. Taking care of others.

She crouched when younger and she realized her skin was different. She waited for other's to accept her for the beautiful person she was on the inside.

She crouched through her relationship that never was fulfilling, that made her think less of herself. Then she left.

She crouched so much within herself that sometimes she forgot who she was and where she came from.

Those days of crouching and hiding are over. She stood up, came out of hiding and she is here.

She knows exactly who she is, where she came from. Listen.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Ahhh the weekend...and sequined moccasins

When it seems like everything in the world is shaken, stirred, whatever, something comes along and makes everything better.
I knew I would see the sun.
I am always amazed to go to my maploco and see other people from around the world reading.
I think, what if I were to go to that country and walk on a street in that city...someone could be up in an apartment window above me reading about my boring life.
I seriosuly don't know why I write lol, I never laugh, I only smile, maybe I will write smile from now on, I don't want to be a fake.
I recieved another nasty email today, saved it, printed it, nothing I can do to prove anything but still going to sign a complaint.
One of my friends moved away but not too far, another came back after being gone for three weeks...I lost a little weight and the workouts are going good. I won't be posting any before and after pics until after after after though.
Hey whoever is out there reading my boring life here on the rez, let me know if you are ever going to stop by this way because I know I will probably never leave this country in this lifetime. Hi Sarah, you beyotch, I see you lurking, love you like a you know what all the way in Germany and thanks for the necklace it's gorgeous.
I dream of going somewhere else, but being back in the isolation of this reservation, I feel as if I will never leave again.
Well I am out until Monday.

Oh yeah....
Did you ever talk to someone that was so easy to talk to, that it felt like it was maybe only half hour and it ended up being 3 and a half hours.

Fave color?

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Sticks and Stones

I can’t be strong, resilient and quiet anymore.
I have for the longest time.
I have been researching on the internet what abuse is?
Does domestic abuse only happen if someone is in a relationship?
If you are not with someone anymore but they or their significant other keep stalking, attacking, emailing, and calling you threatening you, isn’t that abuse?
I was in an abusive relationship before that, I was lucky to get out of. Some people are not so lucky, some people stay in them because they are scared to leave. It took me 11 years to get out of it. It took me to see my children weren’t happy when they would see me hit or pushed down, or called down.
I have worked hard all my life for my children, to make them a better home, sometimes two jobs. Then one day I hopped in my 1979 two door Ford LTD and traveled 12 hours to that better life away from it all.
I lived away for from the rez for 16 years but away from that relationship for 5 years then missed my family too much, so I came home with my children.
I am not perfect, I will be the first to admit my faults. But I won’t be quiet about a bad situation.
Maybe the law can’t help me. Maybe nobody believe me, but surely there are other people in the same situation.
I can speak out against violence, harassment, and mental abuse.
When you call someone a demeaning names,that is mental abuse. When you stalk someone,that is abuse. When you harass with phone calls and emails, that is abuse.
that's all I have to say against it so far.
I am taking a break from the paper (not my blog)until this passes over. I’m sorry to even bother anyone with this, but I need a break from everything so I can concentrate on my kids.
I have a big mouth so I will be back sooner than later.
It’s all sticks and stones….so far.

Looking Through The Condensation

Picture by my sister

Did you ever feel in limbo?
Going through everything with my ex is making me feel like that, like I can't see the sunset.
I felt defamed at court the other day.
Not even 20 minutes ago I recieved a threatening email from his girlfriend.
Know what that is?
Third party harassment on my protection order.
Stupid, I swear.
I am so sick of this.
Why can't they just leave me alone?
I know that sun is out there, but right now it feels so far away.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

I'm a mommy

I used to have this book that I would read to my boys when they were younger. I don't remember the name of it but it is about a lady who would hold her baby and tell him how much she loves him and that he will always be her baby. Even when he grows into a young man, she sneaks in his room and tells him those same words while he sleeps. Then when he has a baby daughter he does the same thing with his daughter.
I know how it feel because as a mother to four children, I kind of fear them growing up.
I am a mother first and foremost in my life. That is my priority. I have been on my own with my children since 2000.
There were many times we struggled living in the city and away from any immediate family. I never asked for or received child support and that made it hard to get by many times.
But we always had each other. My kids and I are close and no one could break that bond that I have with them.
As they grow older I think about the day that they will move away and move on with their lives and it makes me a little sad to think that I have to turn them over to this world.
But I look at what wonderful humans beings they turned out to be and I know they have plenty to offer this world.
I think it's just a parent's instincts to worry about their children, no matter how old they get. Even though I know they will be alright, I will probably always worry. Because a parent is there for their kids, for all of their lives.
And am I tooting my own horn for the way they turned out so far? Hell yeah, because I did it on my own.

Monday, February 4, 2008


I came to a sad realization last night.
Now I feel bad.

Football is over and I have to wait months until I can watch it again. What an awesome Superbowl though. Though Iam not a Giants fan, I was rooting for them just because of the fact that they are NFC and Eli sure deserved the win. It was about time the Superbowl was good.