Of Ice Cream and Indigenous Peoples

13,252 Days Alive

Monday is Indigenous People’s Day. Because an absolute fuck you to Christopher Columbus and his genocidal ilk.

While I don’t have native blood, I am fiercely for the return of stolen lands to the actual Native and Indigenous Peoples of North and Central America. I’m ignorant of what the South American Peoples have been through, but am working on educating myself.

But I could soap box about land stealers and how people shouldn’t be illegal for hours. So let’s talk about something else.

I went to a gay bar in St. Petersburg today; it’s called Swingers. I went with Katas. We hung out today and went to a yarn shop first, then the restaurant. They had swings hanging from the ceiling, but I was afraid of breaking one should I have sat in it, so I just took a booth.

We wandered into an antique shop on Central Avenue after a delicious lunch (chicken taco bowl with extra jalapeños!) and we were going to this bakery called Valhalla, but poor Katas was out of spoons and hurting. So I dropped him back at home and went grocery shopping.

After that, I watched an episode of my favorite house flipping show, Good Bones. I’m working on Grandma Gator’s birthday present and hope to have it done by Friday morning so I can gift it to her when my cousin and I drive down to see her next weekend.

I’m also still working on Papa Tom’s Buffalo Plaid Hat. I’ve got maybe four repeats of color left, so about sixteen rows? I’m not sure, as this pattern is one I made up based of a knitted pattern. Maybe I’ll add it to Ravelry when I’m done.

I bought myself a little treat when I went grocery shopping: pecan pie ice cream. It’s pretty good. I only had a few bites because I didn’t want to super spike my blood sugar.

I’m going to go crochet for a bit before bed.

Take your meds, folks.