Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
*pic is of my grandma, her twin Bogie and thier big sister Erna.
As I write this my grandma is in the hospital in a coma and the newspaper is two days away from print. I am even off schedule and trying to sneak this in after deadline. It has been a hectic week.
My grandma is named Darlene. She was proud, fierce, loving, mean, and the biggest Cubs fan in the world. Any other time I wrote about her, I had to ask permission and promise her a big roll of hamburger from the grocery store. She is going to k'ata me for this, I know, but I have to tell you about this woman, this Lakota woman who raised so many.
I always broke my mom's heart when I was a little girl and cried to spend summers, school years and so on with my grandma. She had the best sense of humor, even when I was a child. I slept right by her and kicked her all night. She would complain all the next day, but look for me at bedtime again. I was the first and oldest grandchild. I was spoiled by uncles, aunties, Grandma Dod and Grandpa Rusty. I remember her going to war for me many times, as she did for many children and grandchildren. She wasn't scared of anyone, and if she was, she sure never showed it.
One thing I always remember about my grandma is her feet. I was a bad sleeper, all over the bed. But anytime my grandma's feet touched me, I moved away. They felt like the bottom of moccasins, hard and smooth at the same time. She hated wearing shoes and if you ever saw her walk, she walked like her toes never touched the ground.
I don't have that walk, but I inherited her feet. I did, they are like moccasin soles and carried me for 36 years. I was thinking about that today, missing when I used to analyze her feet. I thought of the times I saw my grandma on those feet, sometimes barefoot, sometimes with her shoes on. Like when she beat an art teacher with her purse for making my auntie scrub his classroom floor with a toothbrush. Or when she watched my aunties graduate high school. when she walked me up the hill to the Cohen Home to visit her mom. When she demanded better customer service from many a cashier, waitress, clerk, etc. When she buried her twin. When she buried her daughter. When she held her grandkids. When she worked in the kitchen at my step dad's funeral. When she went to work everyday, even at the age of 73. When she beat lung cancer in 98. When she rushed to the hospital everytime a grandkid went to the emergency room. When she cried because she lost her pets Tino and Chico.
See, I have these rough feet. I pretend to have a foot phobia, only because I don't want anyone to touch the feet that I walk around barefoot on.
The truth is, I have my grandma's feet, and I am very proud of that. I love you Grandma Dod, I wished I could be as brave as you someday. I hope my feet carry me through as bravely.
I debated on sending my daughter to Oklahoma with my mom for the summer, but who am I to not let the bond between a grandma and grand-daughter grow?
I wrote this for my Grandma Dod and even though I am a loyal and fierce Yankees fan, I will cheer for the Chicago Cubs to win it all for her.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
A little to the right. My mom bought me a cabbage patch doll with the same dimple.
People always noticed there was just the one.
Then I met him.
And all of a sudden there is one to the left side. Matching the right.
Look, he said, I gave you another dimple.
No way, I said. As if.
I looked in the mirror and smiled. There it was.
The same one, just opposite.
That can't happen, I said. Impossible.
It isn't as deep as the other one, but yesterday, I notcied it's deeper than the day before.
I think it was always there, he told me. You just never saw it.
Or I didn't smile as much, I said.
and then I smiled.
Friday, July 25, 2008
At the same time, I met a wonderful guy.
I mean I knew him already, just never knew how cool he was.
I met him and have been happy, then my gram went in a coma on tuesday.
i have been slacking at work, i am home now and don't feel like even going to work.
I will keep you updated.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I used to be so scared to die. I still am, I won't lie. Even to go "peacefully" in your sleep doesn't seem so peaceful. To not know that you were going to bed on your sleep comfort number 45 and then never wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon again scares the crap out of me. But at the same time, when it happens traumatically, I am sure it is just as scary. Or to suffer through it with sickness you can't fight, would be depressing.
So does that mean that whether or not we know it is going to happen, we have to accept it?
Or can we pretend that everything looks like Willy Wonka's world and Lucy is in the sky with diamonds?
I had a friend tell me today that her man had a dream I died and that he woke up scared and trying to cry. They are both real close to me and she was worried about me. I almost cried after she told me.
I started thinking, what if my days were numbered? I mean they are, all of ours are, but what if I knew. Especially when I had been thinking about it so much lately.
I would not go into death being scared of it, even though I am an evil bitch sometimes. I don't think I deserve hell, if there is one. It can't be more statistically worse than the reservation. I think I would be more worried about what my kids would do without me. My boys have been spending alot of time with their dad lately, my mom has my princess, I would just pray they could be everything I want them to be without me around and can handle not having me around. That is all I would want.
And some bad ass jams to go out to. Oh...and to be buried in the spot my dad wants me to build a house.
*didn't mean to freak anyone out with this blog, but when someone has a dream that you died, it kinda makes you think about it.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
People never know how their breath smells.
One guy that sells me stuff always has listerine breath to cover the malt liquor I smell underneath it.
My co worker has breath like french onion sun chips because she eats them ALL the time.
I hated teachers that had breath like coffee and shit. I wouldn't ask for their help.
My kids at the moment have taco breath.
Today something funny happened to me. As much as I think anything other than minty gum does not smell good coming from someone else's mouth, like beer, onions, cheese....ugh....anyway I was at the grocery store with my son Jalen. We bought a bag of corn nuts at the last minute for our ride. We went to the next grocery store in town because I, of course forgot something. I have to leave the car running because my son is in the car eating corn nuts. I ate a few. I also have to leave my car running until final destination because....well thats another story.
I went to the expresss lane. This lady 4 people in front of me has one of those little baskets for your shopping convenience. She has it stuffed with about 27 little items. I sigh.
Why don't the cashier kick her off? Just because her basket is little? I never take more than the standard 6 items through....hardly ever.
I sigh again.
All of a sudden the dude in front of me says save my spot and looks fastly and furiously around the store. I watch hims search the ends of the aisles until he finds his prize.
Two bags of corn nuts.
For some reason he comes back, happy and smiling. I was craving these so bad all of a sudden.
I smile at him with my mouth closed and quit sighing.
I still think, how the hell can someone having corn nut breath make you hungry?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Before I start writing about what I want to, I want to recognize that it was my kids' grandma's birthday on Monday, July 14th. She was a wonderful woman, who I now know is the reason why I ended up living in Rushville, NE for almost two years. So my kids could get to know their grandma who was fiercely proud of her grandkids.
I always say I am not the brightest bead on a pair of moccasins. I never pretend to be. I am as fiercely proud of the fact that I am from the Pine Ridge Reservation as my kids' grandma was of her grandkids.
I was confused a while back when people were ready to "jump ship." People were talking, ready to give up the fact that they were born and raised here. People were quitting their jobs, saying they were gonna be enrolled in the Shakopee tribe. People had their money spent, showing me pictures of cars that they were gonna spend their money on. This is our people, they said. I was like, well if thats what you believe, then cool. My people are from here, like me.
I know that me, myself, and I, for one would not want to be anything but the Lakota I am. Money may sound good to some, may make them want to sell their pride, but money also makes you miserable. I know this is easy for me to say, because I am from one of the poorest counties in the country and our statistics are so bad, they compare to Haiti, a third world country. BUT, I am LAKOTA. This is my reservation and leaving it made me realize, I never want to be anything other than Lakota. In any lifetime.
Why try to be something you never grew up with? Something you never knew anything about? After the money is gone, IF it ever comes through, you will be left with peoplethat you don't know and they don't know you. Back on your reservation there will always be the people that were always a part of you, and people you pulled away from. People that will probably never be wealthy in materialistic things, but people that have heart, have pride, and have spirit.
My kids' grandma lived a hard life but had a beautiful spirit and her pride of being Lakota would shine like the sun on the reservation. I will never forget her and all she taught me about being Lakota. I never knew how much she taught me until she was gone.
I went for a couple of cruises throughout the rez this past weekend with some friends. I gave a friend a ride to his sons birthday party at the Knee. The sun was setting and washed the rez in an orange glow. It was an awesome and breathtaking sight to see a very sacred and historical spot washed in that summer glow. I rode with another friend, Bobby Sox, to Slim Buttes and back. The same deal, the sun was setting and it was beautiful. I thought of how in the past, how many people, Lakota people must have walked the same land. The same, sun was setting and this was their land. They walked it with pride knowing that nobody could take who they were away from them, no matter what.
No amount of money will take me from this reservation and make me want to be a part of another way of life that I am not. No amount of money will take my fierce Lakota pride from me. I am Lakota and this is my reservation. There is no place like home.
Rest in peace, Grandma KK.
*pic by my sis of my other sis*
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I am going to walk as slow as I want to piss the people behind me off.
I am going to wait until the cashier gives me the amount for my bottle of orange juice, red wine and 1 peach, then I am going to say HUH? And then I will look for my checkbook, ask for a pen, and ask who I make the check out to. then with shaky hands from the red wine I will slowly write the check out.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
This is called the trickle down blog effect.
I couldn't decide what to write about for the reative challenge. Plus I have been so busy at work it's crazy. Thats why I reposted a few things. Anyway the challenge was "A Moment in Time.:
I was thinking, I have so many I couod blog about I can't think of one. But I choose one after reading Miss T's blog which was inspired by Ned's So here it goes. Push play up there.
A Moment in Time
When I was 16 years old, I had some of the best friends, because I decided to stop hanging around girls for awhile. Most of them were backstabbing at that time. I was tired of it. I was a football cheerleader and my best friends wereC. Dubbs and Mase, our two biggest linemen. We ate lunch together, went to movies, concerts, everything. Sometimes they would set me up with their friends, which was a bonus to having guy friends.
It was summertime and the Central States Fair was coming up. We all had a friend in common, who was younger than me, kinda cute and I got along great with, while he was in Seattle with family. We talked on the phone while he was in Seattle almost everynight. I told him of breaking up withBruce at the beginning of summer and he talked of this chick he was going out with in Seattle. We could talk and laugh forever.
He told me he was coming home for Central States Fair and wanted to know if we all wanted to go up for the fair. C.Dubbs, Mase, and I. My mom was hesitant because I was 16 and going up with my guy friends but they had to convince her I was safer with them than with other girls.
So we packed enough for an overnight stay and Tony (dude I talked to every night) picked us up. I was squished in his car between the two big boys in the back because his cousin from Seatlle was riding passenger. We laughed and kidded all the way up there about my fear of carnival rides. Everyone was saying they would force me to ride the rides and I was like hell no.
We got closer to the point where we hit the Black Hills. The Black Hills were drenched in the sunset. everything was that beautiful golden honey color that you can only get when the sun hits a certain point on the horizon. Tony put in a cassette he bought in Seattle. It was the first time I heard Guns and Roses. The guitar playing while the sun was setting over the Black Hills was a Moment In Time, I will never forget. I remember catching Tony's eye in the rearview mirror and smiling. I remember thinking I'm going to kiss him this weekend and also thinking I will ride a scary ride tonight. And I did.
Dedicated to the memory of C. Dubbs and Mase. R.I.P.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Ok this shit is getting out of hand. I can't take it anymore. I have a bathroom, it's pretty much the girls bathroom here. The boys stink up and clean their bathroom with the only shower in the house. I don't mind having the bathtub because I personally prefer taking a bath to taking a shower.
BUT I have to evict you Barbie, this shit ain't right. You LIVE in my bathtub. You don't pay rent. You go around all naked with you hair all wet all the time. you invited all those little Bratz hoochies with no feet over. Next thing I knew, you had My Little Pony all up in my tub with all you hooches. Everytime I go to take a bath I have to take you all out and put you in the sink...when I go back in there, you're all in the tub again. Looking like the Tila Tequila show rejects in my tub.
So when I go to dump the kids off at the pool today I look over and see you all passed out, naked with the Bratz hoochies, My Little Pony passed out puking in the drain and then I see her little ghetto ass.
And her monkey Boots. And her backpack backpack backpack is gone. I know the Bratz hoochies jacked her for her backpack when you all got her drunk. I know we live in the ghetto but leave Dora out of it. For the love of lead poisioning.
Barbie you are an evil bitch.; If you don't move the hell out of my tub you will die a slow painful death by The Girl. And you seen her kill the other barbies like a barbie Nazi.
So even though The Girl put you there, you must leave. Or She will kill you.
Consider yourself warned
signed Barbie Nazi's mom.