A moonlit path glimmers,
passing the gently curving slopes
of twin dunes.

Dunes that slip softly between
ridges like groping fingers-or ribs.
My hair lifts, a moan on the wind.

On and on, rising and falling...
Watching over the round top of the last dune
I surface gasping, as my lovers face glows like the moon

Between thigh mountains.

Check out my sidebar for some cool new pics-well, old pics actually. I was looking through some old photos to find some sculpture busts I'd made. There's this guy advertising for a bust-maker and Daniel helped me throw up a bust page on the rzanimals site.

Anyway, along with those, I found a lot of snaps of me and my family and the art fairs I've boothed at over the years which I thought might be a nice addition to the sidebar pics.

Also I've been planning to add an art-pics section for a while and so without further ado:

Voila! You can now see these and other artistic endeavors on my sidebar. To start with, I'm just showing off some of my old Evergeen State College portfolio of photos and an installation piece I did for MWW Savitt(a PR firm right here in downtown Seattle) She's sitting in their lobby.

It was a fun project, I actually experienced the profound joy of having an expense account and I learned how to cast a face in plaster...

This is how she looked in progress.

Keep an eye out for more soon...

I was digging through some old photos and I came across this one of my mom at the opening of the Visions Gallery in Bellevue. She made the logo for the gallery in her amazing papercut technique.

So here she is, raising a glass in front of her awesome artwork.

"You CAN'T DO that!!!"

and

"THAT'S not RIGHT!!!"

Said in the righteous wail of a 5 year old boy when the game he's playing isn't quite going in the direction he planned. Usually an adult 'monster' is carrying him off 'base' by the scruff of his neck, after having had enough of being told:

"You CAN'T DO that!"

and

"THAT'S not RIGHT!"

As with many Samisms, we've adopted these into the adult parlance of the household, along with other favorites, like:

"NEVER make this for dinner AGAIN!"

...how dreadful it is knowing that bombs are falling on the earth, on the buildings, on the people in Iraq.

I woke up this morning in my warm bed, safe and snuggled up with my beloved, knowing my son was safe, my family and friends were all fine, living their usual lives in the usual way. Knowing I would get up, put on some clothes, go to my kitchen, make tea, fix breakfast, talk to my mom on the phone, play music on my computer...

Knowing that I would never even hear so much as an echo of the exploding missiles, bombs, machine gun fire and screaming people across the world from my tranquil, rainy day.

Nobody I know is likely to die today, or kill someone, or starve.

It's a normal day in my life. There's just this eerie feeling in my stomach. A slightly nauseous feeling, a feeling of wrongness and futility. Like, somehow, I shouldn't be here, calmly enjoying my comfortable life whilst my nation wields its gigantic military might, bringing violence, death-WAR into the world again. Repeating the mad cycle of history. Greed and violence = pain, suffering and death. There is no justification for war.

I don't know anyone who wanted this war. There's been massive worldwide protests against it, yet it's happening. Why couldn't we stop it? The Booge had an article by Peter Freundlich that kind of summed it up for me.

It's a mad world.

Sammy said he wanted me to cut it off, so I had to say goodbye to his glorious long locks yesterday.

So, after his bath, I took the scissors we bought at Fred Meyers, and...

SNIP! I've never done a radical haircut before, just a trim here and there, so I was a bit nervous when I saw this...

but Sam loved it , he wanted Daniel to take a picture of him with his severed braid.

I recovered my aplomb and bravely dived in with my scissors and comb again.

Voila! So CUTE!-I wanted a portrait of the two of us.

Then I got my own amputated braid down. I cut MY long hair off over a year ago, then dyed it 'rage' red. It's grown out-and mellowed out-quite a bit since then.

And everybody lived happily ever after.

I myself can't imagine inviting someone over to dinner and proudly saying: "Here's your MEAT."

Balance is so important.

Men, in my experience, are often superb at cooking MEAT. And they may even be able to accompany the MEAT with potatoes, rice, broccoli and other univegetable options. Heck, I've even met some real men who could whip up truly amazing gourmet dishes with MEAT.

But, never, ever, have I seen a real man make a real salad.

Can anybody tell me what's up with that? Is there something inherently feminine about chopping lettuce, cukes, tomatoes, peppers? Is it just too much fuss? Too healthy?

Or maybe it's just another example of why we need each other.

Balance.

Pretty, polite, social teaparties...

Drive me NUTS!

Eeek, Tea party Beastie!!!

happy birthday Valerie!

Val had a marvelous combined birthday party for herself and I on the 8th. Her Bday is the 10th, mine, the 7th. I made this mermaid/otter dance for her.

(the seaweed is cut from real nori seaweed-it was pretty fun to make, Sam, Rowan and I ate all the scrap 'paper')

Check out our FEET!

Sam: (putting scattered pens away)"I'm NEVER talking to you again!"

Rowan: (also putting pens away)"Me?"

Sam: "Not so much anyway."

Rowan: "What did I do?"

Sam: "You spat in my face!"

Rowan: (as the last pens go in the box)"I didn't mean too and anyhow you spat first"

Silence.

Sam: (both kids meander over to the couch) "I saw a talking cat"

Rowan: "Where?"

Sam: (hanging off the couch upsidedown)"At my papas house."

Rowan: (playing with big floppy troll) "What did it say? What language did it speak?"

Sam: "It said hello, only it sounded like bleaorgelo, I think it was French."

Rzan: (blogging) "If it said hello in French, it would sound like: Bonjour"

Sam: "Maybe it was Beborg, or Inglush"

Rowan: "Yeah, that's what talking cats speak."

Sam: "But it might have been a Chinese cat."

(both kids slither over the side of the couch onto the futon mattress, onto the floor and the pens come back out as they discuss imaginary languages, cats, lands and gibberish. I carry on with the blogging. Daniel and Ben are out partying tonight, boy are they missing out.)