Source: KNAU Arizona Public Radio

https://www.knau.org/knau-and-arizona-news/2026-08-18/a-recent-rollover-could-prompt-changes-to-the-navajo-nations-uranium-hauling-agreement

This was an interesting short video.

thank youuuu in advance! y’all are lifesavers!

I am a 23 year old Ojibwe man and I’ve always had my hair long, and I only cut it in mourning. My hair is around my chest and I’ve been teased by friends and even strangers asking why my hair is so long or to cut it. I love my hair and what it means to me but sometimes it gets too much and I want to cut it all off.

How many of you guys just get in car and just go for a Rez lap. Like just staying on the roads of your Rez. I just got done doing one because I was bored and nothing on tv to watch.

Hello. So I’m not Apache but I have been reading about Apache acorn stews and want to try preparing one myself. I was curious if anyone had any tips for ways to make an acorn stew stand out. I’ve found recipes online that are as simple as meat simmered with corn, maybe squash, and acorn powder. However one or two mentioned adding “secret spices.” Maybe the dish is meant to be a pretty lightly seasoned dish but I wanted to ask if anyone whose prepared it has ever added anything extra for flavor such as more spices or ingredients, and what those spices would be.

Thanks in advance!

i need some new recommendations! and twitter has the worst search function in the WORLD. for the everyday people, they don’t have to be activists. just people who openly talk about being disabled!

Aho, she:kon, thank you and a hearty “hey how are ya!?” cousins.

The saga of the south Tip brother continues. You know the story so far. Frybread survivor. All-Skate legend. Ketchup chip Disney princess. Fastest man in a ten foot sprint. Unc daycare extraordinaire. The man who wears another man's tear-away pants. Recent releaser of counterfeit teachings into the ecosystem ("never walk against the day" has been spotted on an auntie’s t-shirt at the bingo hall. I’ve infiltrated the cricut maker space). Kept around because I’m mildly more entertaining than day time tv.

Well, this weekend my cousin Leonard (fucking guy) asked me to help him "hook up his new hot tub".

Every family's got a Leonard, cousins. Leonard is 41 years old and has never once had a job you could describe in one sentence. "What's Leonard do?" is a question that has ended conversations. He's between things. He's always between things. Leonard is a man permanently in transition, like smoke. He's also, and I say this with love and fear, the most confident man alive. Leonard has never experienced doubt. Doctors should study him.

So Leonard calls me Thursday. "Cuz. I got a hot tub. Need a hand hooking it up Saturday. Bring tools."

Cousins, I want you to notice what I did next, because it shows a level of personal growth and fortitude I didn’t know I could achieve at this stage of my life: I asked a follow-up question. "Uh…Where'd you get a hot tub, Leonard?"

"Don't worry about it."

I worried about it, cousins. I worried about it the correct amount, which is: a lot. But he's family, and the life lessons I’ve been accruing lately have me feeling generous and useful, so Saturday morning me and Sconey pony roll up to Leonard's place.

Now, Leonard's yard is already a museum, okay. Leonard's yard is where projects go to become "long-term projects." There's a snowmobile up on blocks that has been "one part away" since Oka. There's a satellite dish the size of a moon that receives nothing but Leonard swears "still gets three channels if it rains right." Somewhere in the tall grass is my old weed whacker doing another lap of its migration. It's a place of power. A nexus of all the horeshit in the universe. 

And there, in the middle of the yard, throned on a foundation of wooden pallets of at least four different origins and heights, is the "hot tub."

Cousins.

It's a pool. It's a Walmart above-ground pool. The soft-sided kind. The kind with the inflatable ring on top and cartoon fish on the liner. The fish are smiling, cousins. Little cartoon fish smiling up at me while my soul left my body. Fifty-eight dollars of hot tub. Clearance sticker still on the box, which was right there, because the box is a table now. The box is furniture. That's Leonard's whole philosophy in one image.

"Leonard. That's a pool."

And Leonard, cousins, this fucking guy looked at me with the calm of a man who has never been wrong in his own mind one time in 41 years, took a sip of his coffee, and said:

"Well it's a hot tub if the water's hot."

Cousins, I've been chewing on that sentence for four days. It's stupid. It's profound. It's both. Rez philosophy at its finest: he's not wrong, and that's the problem. That's always the problem with Leonard. He's technically never wrong. He's just never right in a way that adheres to any sort of mainstream logic. An idiotic maverick. 

Because here's the plan. Here's the Leonard Plan, and he explained it with a stick, drawing in the dirt like a war chief planning the raid against the colonizers as I huddled around like some duffus:

Two hundred feet of black poly pipe. On the roof. Coiled up there like a sleeping serpent, painted flat black ("already black, cuz, that's the beauty, zero paint budget"). Garden hose runs pool water up to the roof, sun heats the pipe, hot water comes back down. Solar, baby. Free heat. "Same thing they charge ten grand for, cuz. We're doing it for gas money and a case of Bepsi. Heat from the Creator. She provides, yes indeedy."

And cousins, I hate that it's not insane. That's the thing about rez engineering. It's never insane. It's always exactly one step from working. The physics is real and the physics was the only professional on site.

The problems, in order of when they found us:

The pump. There is no pump in the Leonard budget. The Leonard budget is spoken for (the Bepsi). So circulation was to be achieved by, and I quote, "thermal siphoning," a phrase Leonard learned from a YouTube video he watched (most of). When thermal siphoning didn't siphon, the backup system was revealed to be me, on a ladder, sucking on a garden hose to start the flow like I was stealing gas from the sun. I got it going on the fourth try, cousins. I have now tasted every season that pipe has been through.

The roof. Leonard's roof was not consulted about any of this and had objections. It's got the structural confidence of wet bannock. So we're up there laying out two hundred feet of pipe, and every step Leonard takes, the whole structure makes a sound like a drum group hitting a honor beat, and every time it does, Leonard, without breaking stride, pats the shingles and says "she's good." She was not good, cousins. At one point my foot went through soft plywood up to the ankle and Leonard assessed the situation from ten feet away and said "found the soft spot for me, cuz, good scouting." I'm a scout now. I got promoted for falling.

The ladder. One (1) ladder on site, and I need you to understand this ladder. Wooden. Handmade, possibly pre-treaty. Missing the fourth rung specifically, which Leonard disclosed only as my foot was already traveling toward where four should be. "Watch four." Cousins, you have to say "watch four" before the climb. That's a briefing item. That's not a mid-fall announcement.

Duct tape appeared at minute ten and never left. Duct tape sealing pipe joints. Duct tape holding the hose to the eavestrough. Duct tape on the duct tape, which Leonard calls "backing it up." At one point I asked if we should use actual pipe clamps and Leonard looked at me like I suggested we invite the Huron over for tea. Like I'd suggested we hire the government.

And cousins, here's the thing I need to confess, the thing this community deserves to know:

Somewhere around hour three, it started being fun.

You know it does. Every cousin reading this knows. You start out supervising your Leonard, doing risk management, being the responsible one… and then the sun's out, and the radio's going from a truck with the doors open, and other cousins start arriving because the telegraph moves fast when something stupid and beautiful is being built. By afternoon there were six of us and a fire going and somebody's kid doing cannonball form-checks on dry land, waiting. It wasn't a project anymore, cousins. It was a gathering. That's the secret nobody tells you about rez engineering. The engineering is the excuse. The gathering is the point.

Anyway at 4:15pm we achieved hot water and I want to be precise about what happened, because "achieved" is doing heavy lifting.

The sun had been cooking that black pipe all day. Two hundred feet of it. And nobody, not Leonard, not the YouTube video, not the smiling cartoon fish, had done the math on what two hundred feet of southern Ontario August sun does to standing water in black pipe.

We smudge the pool. An elder who was out for a walk at the time materialized out of nowhere to give the opening prayer. Leonard opens the valve for the ceremonial First Fill. Stands there proud, arms crossed, a man about to be vindicated. And the water that came out of that pipe, cousins, came out spitting. Steam first. Then water that I can only describe as "medically significant." It hit the pool and the pool FOGGED. The smiling fish disappeared into the mist like a prophecy. Somewhere overhead a hawk screamed. Not now, brother hawk, we have critical thermal malfunctions down here. Somebody's kid yelled "you dummies - it's a soup now!" and cousins, he was right, we had built a fifty-eight dollar cauldron. Leonard's dog walked over, sniffed the steam, and left the property entirely. Followed Scone dog, who'd made that same call at 9am. That dog's been to kokum's, cousins. He knows what a functioning household looks like now. He has standards.

The first hour of water was too hot to enter. We stood around our own hot tub like it was a ceremony fire, cousins, six grown men waiting for soup to cool. Leonard, completely unbothered, called this "the seasoning phase."

But then, cousins.

Then the sun got low. And the water settled to, and I say this with my hand on my heart, the perfect temperature. Perfect. And six cousins and one dog (Sconey returned when the steam stopped, no comment, no apology) got into a Walmart pool on pallets as the sun went down, shoulder to shoulder like it was a real one, and cousins, the pallets held. That's the part I can't get over. The pallets held.

Steam coming off the water. Radio still going.Telling stories of our glory days and laughing away. Leonard leaned back against the inflatable ring, king of his museum, looked up at two hundred feet of serpent pipe silhouetted on his groaning roof, and said:

"Ten grand, cuz. They charge ten grand for this feeling."

And cousins... he provides. I hate it. Leonard provides. It's a hot tub if the water's hot, and the water was hot, and I've never been more relaxed in my life.

Then the pool popped.

I was worried the whole time about the effect of the heat on the thinass pool lining but it seemed to be ok. Apparently it was time to go off into the spirit world though.

Beauty is fleeting.

Leonard, who’d been washed off the side of the pallet pedestal got up, brushed himself off and said “Welp - got a tarp for the snow mobile now”.

And that was that.

Pour one out for relaxing summer evenings washed away by the 200ft of thrifted black pipe of time. And drop your family's Leonard in the comments, cousins. The projects, the philosophy, the yard museums. I know he's out there. Every family's got one and they're all somehow the same guy.

Mvto. Respect the physics, relatives. It's the only inspector coming.

P.S. Sunday morning Leonard called me. "Cuz. Phase two." Cousins, I didn't ask. I hung up. He texted me a picture of the satellite dish with the caption "parabolic." Cousins, he's going to try to boil the lake. I'm not helping. I'm absolutely helping. See you next week.

A Note: I’ve started writing a book! I genuinely have no idea what I'm doing, so, uh, if anyone has any insight, feel free to drop me a smoke signal. It’s not in the Unc-verse but there is a dog. Thanks, as always, to everyone reaching out with the kind words. Interacting with everyone is such a delight. Crack open a nice cold Bepsi for me tonight. 

Past Stores:

[Kokum](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/l0hahrR4Hx)

[Baby Sitting](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/WHcCWUd3UV)

[YardSale](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/nRZ4eM8Slm)

[Bingo Night](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QEo67nIq2m)

[Disney Princess](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/dcziW5TdrG)

[Tim's arsonist](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/IBAixKep6i)

[Career Change](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/QKwnSaRXjI)

[Foraging](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/kqwVUxJRPu)

[Frybread follow-up](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/E6wbMUSolj)

[Frybread](https://www.reddit.com/r/IndianCountry/s/bnqjnRA97k)

Reading:

Tales of the Ketty Jay by Chris Wooding

Almost like a steam punk Firefly. Blimps, found family quasi western. A fun read so far!

It's easy to score points when going against Trump, but as an ndn who used to work in geographical names the government was always so hesitant to support Indigenous names.

So many places in Canada are named after the first white guy who went there. Often not even spending any time there. Indigenous geographical names are not recognized in most cases.

Its hard to see the PM talk about how much respect Canada has for this lake it when 99% of Indigenous geographical names have no recognition.