homemade waffle cone

Last Saturday Jack took me for homemade ice-cream … the only ice cream that has ever beaten me in all my life, which warrants it to have its very own blogpost.  I’ve stopped eating sugar almost entirely, so i only have maybe half a pack of peanut butter M&Ms and a iced tea+lemonade on the weekend.  Everything else is pretty much protein, broccoli, eggs, oatmeal and bacon. So this ice cream kicked my butt, but what a beautiful battle it was. A homemade waffle cone the size of my head, around five enormous scoops of farm churned chocolate chip ice cream.

I regret nothing. Find a guy that buys you farm ice cream for breakfast and takes you to pet all the baby sheep and goats before the crowds show up.

He’s so beautiful, and wears my hat better than i do.

the day i met Crazy Horse’ Elder, Wopila !

It’s not everyday that something extraordinary happens like a flash, so quick you almost don’t believe it. It’s not even in every life time that you can strike gold, but my gold mines are starting to tally and i’m worried i’m running out whatever the hell luck i’m living on — because i keep living these dreams i never thought could be possible. And i am beholden…. shy of bound, to whatever man makes the god damn rules in this place.
In an afternoon, i was moved. I was changed in some profound and sagacious way that i can’t quite put my finger on what the fuck happened to me in those moments.
My mind a little deeper and much richer than it was last week.
I wanted to write this post the other night but my website is as temperamental as a she-bear. Therefore, tonight is the night now that i have a moment that is all mine. After all — they say that words mean more at night and will send you dreaming.
A few weeks ago an event popped into a feed and a plan was made. Simple as that. No great sign or path.
I’d tried to talk myself out of going just because it was effort and i don’t like interacting with people, but this was a bucket list item — something i’d only dreamed of since i was still young enough to believe in happy endings. And Jack, the golden boy that is — wouldn’t let me back out.
The event was a meet/greet/book signing with Crazy Horse’ Elder, and the author of the families book — Bill Matson. I’ve never attended anything of this kind before, i always thought it was somewhat awkward and not my scene. I figured it was mostly just something that was done in movies or for weird die hard fans like…twilight geeks etc.
Having said that — i was wrong.
I reckon i was just waiting for the right time and it found me,  in the dying summer of New England 2019. What are the odds.
I’ve always been very aware that indigenous people in films, books, media and history were “whitewashed” and “europeanised.” Which is a damn shame and unnecessary.
Rarely have they been given the chance to openly portray their truth or even speak it. And that was why i desperately wanted to hear the sore and exposed truth of their culture. Thats what he gave to me, the difference between truth and assumptions. A lot of what is thought to be fact — is an assumption about the Red Nation and many other parts of life. It was beautiful and meaningful to hear it from him — his truths, his stories, all about his blood-tree … rather than from a book that has rolled through editors where stories were changed and translations crapped over like yesterdays newspaper.
So i’m very very excited to read the book of their family.
I’m excited to read Matson’s words and  learn more about the true Crazy Horse and their lives since.
The meeting was raw. It was strong. Nerve wracking. But utterly and finally, it was magnificent. Even though the audience members made me kinda embarrassed to be white due to their weird inane questions and stereotypical thought processes. They asked about finding “medicine men on facebook,” were surprised “Indians were so nice”  and i could honestly go on. But i choose to remember the experience in a way Bearheart  taught me to. Find the positive and learn the lesson.
I realise i haven’t talked about it in too much depth but i fear it would ruin my experience for me, just like pulling your camera out in a beautiful moment and living through the lens instead of being truly present.
So this is all i’ve leave you with.
Speak truth, don’t assume and tell the story how it happened without modern embellishments (fiction writers excluded).




the walking sweater and floppy ears

My god damn kitchen flooded on Monday night. The garbage disposal over flowed and all the folks waste water from above us came through our sink, floor boards sodden in chicken water and grease. Thats how my week started. I suppose that’s life and you just have to keep on keeping on as best you can. But thats neither here or nor there and frankly nothing to do with my blogpost, but i needed to fill it out a wee bit.
Yesterday morning after breakfast we took a trip to Applecrest farm — the place we went apply picking at a few years ago…. for $30 dollars a bag i might add. Last time we went it was incredibly busy and not worth the hum because everything is terrible when theres too many people aimlessly walking and stopping abruptly for no reason other than to annoy the shit outta me. It was much nicer when it was quiet — like it was yesterday. Plus for the most part i got the long eared goats and sheep to myself. I’ve always wanted to have my own sheep  so i could spin my own yarn and make REALLY beautiful happy sweaters from happy sheep. Maybe one day.
Another dream to add to the pile.
I dont know why this blog post comes across as hostile … it really was a lovely day and i had a huge waffle cone ice cream.. so, overall a success.

The ice cream did win though, that thing was the size of an elephant penis.


15 things from my bucketlist

  1. Photograph the wild horses in Wyoming.
  2. Visit and stay a while in Deadwood.
  3. Live on a Shetland island.
  4. Travel around the West with the sun at our backs.
  5. Keep working on my current novel.
  6. Start putting up knitted pieces on my etsy and stop being so damn lazy.
  7. Make a cable knit sweater.
  8. Go home to Denmark in the summer time and in the wintertime, and any time at all.
  9. Film another mini film with dialogue and stop being so damn lazy.
  10. Take a whole day where i don’t make myself feel guilty for doing absolutely fucking nothing at all.
  11. Learn to make the front of my hair look less like a bear chewed on it when i have a dutch plait.
  12. Leave New England ASAP.
  13. Look back at England and smile. Brexit or no Brexit. England is just another home i left behind.
  14. Paint a western landscape.
  15. Stop feeling like i’m too old.
  16. Learn to count.