TIPSU HAWS

On Saturday night, I laughed when I saw a college student sitting on a delivery robot at Oregon State University. I told him, “Anyone can sit on a robot. Can you standup and skate a robot?”

Suddenly, the robot started a script, asking the person to leave it alone. “Please leave me alone or I will start recording you.” The person did not leave it alone. Another delivery robot arrived.

The first machine continued to plead with this man to leave it alone. The second robot reared up and lunged. A third robot pulled up across the street and was likely also recording.

As I listened to this delivery robot continue to plead for this drunk white man to leave it alone, I started to feel sick to my stomach. I touched my hand to the stainless steel clip on the carbon fiber scales that house a VG-10 stainless steel blade that is tucked in the waistband of my skirt for comfort.

I decided then that I will start wearing this blade more prominently. And I will start giving blades to women because men need to start seeing consequences.

Cultivation is colonization.
Decolonization starts at home.

When I was naming my business/nursery, I attempted to be palatable and chose habitat/cultivateyourhabitat rather than something like "f**k your invasive colonizer garden." Now I'm realizing that it was a missed opportunity for filtering the type of people that want to work with me. tipsu-haws (chinuk-wawa) translates as plant house (bastan-wawa) and is my home in Arbor Lodge. It is food sovereignty. It is healing the land. It is challenging yourself by doing the work of decolonizing yourself. It is also f**k your colonized garden. 💕

Over the last few months, the windows of Boom Boom Balloons (the piñata shop run by Julia on Lombard) had their windows shot out. More recently, a mysterious fire destroyed the shop. Mo organized fundraiser and Evan offered to host at Bottles & Cans . Other local businesses donated so many great things for the raffle. I put together a lil’ assortment of goodies (and I forgot to post about it… 🫠) Raffle drawing is happening at 7:45pm and there’s still time to stop by to get some raffle tickets!

I went to bed at 2:30am. My alarm went off at 5:50am. Only awake this early for one thing: Kenton Street Fair!

Come hang out with me! I’m running on adderall, spite, and coffee - this is a guaranteed to be a good time. 😆

✨I might even share Canoe Journey stories if you bring me gluten-free treats and tea lattes✨

Each night, a puller that doesn’t have a paddle of their own, chooses a paddle and keeps it close. When we landed at Suquamish, this paddle was in my hands and I passed Her to the helpers on the shore. When we walked onto the beach I caught sight of one of my most favorite people, Channa, and gravitated in her direction. Channa saw the paddle being carried by a helper and noted the handle. She had found her long lost paddle that she had carved in 2018. That was when Tahlequah was grieving her calf. To honor Tahlequah, Channa carved the orca tail handle. Tears sprang into my eyes as I told Channa that I was deeply honored to have used her paddle. That’s when she told me that her paddle chose me. And that’s how I was gifted this paddle on our journey to Lower Elwha. We launched from Port Gamble this morning and are pulling to Port Townsend. I’m currently sitting in the sun on the deck of the Ice Bear, a beautiful 45’ sailboat while I wait for my turn to pull. Our Pullers are singing. The wind is carrying their good medicine across the water. And the water is carrying canoes of strong-hearted Indigenous people, just like it has done since time immemorial.

A call for Allies to support us on Canoe Journey 💕

Some Nobody said some s**t about “we didn’t k¡ll enough Indians.” B¡tch, YOU CAN’T. Are y’all so dense that you haven’t figured that out yet? Your people have been attempting to k¡ll us since your posse of sh¡tclowns washed up on our shores. We saved those m*therf*ckers and you STILL try to eliminate us. Despite the odds being against us, you couldn’t k¡ll us all. Some had the strength to survive. WE ARE THE DESCENDANTS OF THOSE INDIANS. Someday, someone in a future generation might name the Nobody and, say, “Remember when that Nobody thought she could take us? As if she could win a battle against the descendants of the survivors? Another will say, “ann who?” They’ll shrug and go back to cleaning fish and throwing the guts to the dogs because that Nobody is so insignificant that the memory of her will fade like smoke. ✨Here’s me doing Indian things in June: I set fire to the colonized garden that is on the land we live on here in Portland. And I reconnected with my Ancestors in Bay Center.✨

Been seeing t’alapas [Coyote] any time I’m out after sunset. I know most of the route now - I can catch up if I missed seeing the crossing of a main intersection. Tonight I found t’alapas on Rosa Parks, but l always lose her when she turns off into the neighborhood. I wonder if this is the same t’alapas that sometimes rests under the Pine in my front yard. I hope so. [[BRING IN YOUR CATS]]