Category Page: rzan

Note that on the category pages, the posts are in chronological order, unlike the rest of the weblog.

Sunday, August 25, 2002

mwa ha ha-i'm in charge now!
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Little did Daniel know what he was getting into when he innocently left for retreat...

Just kidding, honestly I'm honored to be guest hosting on my very favorite blog.

If anyone has some good ideas to keep it entertaining around here while he's off refining his mind, let me know. He didn't even leave us with a juicy little survey to comment on...


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:35 PM

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Monday, August 26, 2002

blackberry orgies
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Blackberries, all I see when I close my eyes is blackberries. Lush clusters of purple-black berries glistening sweetly in the sunshine amidst dark green foliage and ominous prickles.

I saw Daniel off this morning with a kiss, three of the biggest sandwiches I've ever helped make and a sack of freshly harvested cherry tomatoes(his favorite garden snack).

Boy, did he get all scratched up! Those blackberries really took vengeance for our plundering yesterday. They even tore into his legs through his Carhardt jeans- poor thing, he looked like he'd been wrestling with a tiger!

No complaints, yo. We sure had an awesome day and took home a simply astounding amount of berries-filled every tupperware, and two gigantic stewpots.

The kids(my son, Samadhi and his six year old friend Rowan) had a blast gorging on berries, stomping on dry leaves and adventuring on secret paths where adults fear to tread(there's a dragon, you know-the fearsome prickly Blackberry Dragon who, of course, only eats grownups).

We wandered farther and farther off the beaten path until we came to blackberry heaven-it was absolutely crazy-amazing how plentiful the berries were there. They covered the bushes like a thick juicy blanket. Cara, Daniel and I picked and picked and picked while the kids giggled and giggled and giggled. By the time we were done it was getting dark, we were starving, scratched up, all sticky purple fingers and faces. So Daniel took us out for pizza on the way home. Yum.

It was a thoroughly satisfying day.

I'm gonna miss that boy.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 12:54 PM

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Woops, I forgot the orgy part
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Unfortunately, that was only in our heads. We were gazing into the enormous tub of glistening berries and imagining the naked fun of taking them home, spreading out a plastic drop cloth and romping and rolling and feasting until you couldn't tell the purple people apart from the purple people eaters...

Then Daniel suggested the big blow up kiddie pool and it became more of a blackberry wrestling fantasy than an orgy. Easier to clean up certainly, but I think the neighbors might freak and I'd hate to have to try and explain it to the authorities...Nude sticky purple people just don't get any respect.


We decided to freeze the berries for cobbler, pies, cakes and other delicious socially acceptable items.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:37 PM

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Tuesday, August 27, 2002

slug exportation
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

So, the kids have this wacky game that they play in the dahlia bed out front...

They turn over these huge rocks, I don't quite know how they manage it-some of the rocks are too heavy for ME to heave, admittedly I'm no muscle woman or anything but they are just bitty kids!-to search for critters.

Pill bugs get ooohs, they're cool 'cause they roll up. Spiders get screeches and beetles are kind of interesting but by far the most exciting are the slugs.

The bigger the better-Rowan: "whoa, look at that fatty!"
Sam: "Ooooh, that's super big!"

Somehow a game developed where they pick up the slugs(using leaves for slime protection) and carry them over to the yard next door, which just happens to be the yard of my landlady. There they "set them free" to join their little slug friends in "the wilderness".

Well, today I was sitting out on the front porch indulging in a sunny afternoon jaw session with my friend Ben, Rowans dad. The kids were playing happily out on the rocks and I was vaguely aware of their simple discussion of bugs and dead flowers which made a pleasant backdrop for our more adult topics of relationships, vulnerability, fear and buddhism.

Then my landlady came walking up the driveway.

She said hi to the kids and they immediately filled her in on the bug game. To my dismayed amusement, Rowan eagerly showed her how they export the leaf-wrapped slugs right over to her front yard!

She came over to talk to me and I offered her a rueful grin and apologized for turning her yard into a slug haven. To her credit she just laughed and said she'd merely come over to say we were welcome to pick the blackberries in her yard.

Thank heaven for nice landladies.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 08:36 PM

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Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

After being catless in Seattle for far too long, my house is now swarming with kittens!

Well, actually there's only two, but it certainly seems like a swarm at times.

my roomate, Cara went to her highschool reunion out in the badlands of Wenatchee and came home with the little cuties. She found them in the woods where they had apparently been abandoned.

Skinny scruffy love-starved little buggers but they are filling out quite nicely now as she's spoiling them rotten with raw organic beef hunks and Iams kitten chow. It's pretty hilarious watching a tiny kitten rip into a piece of meat purring and growling at the same time.

I sure missed soft fluffy purry kitty love. I could have lived without the crazy night antics, yo(thundering across the wood floored hallway while we are trying to sleep), the attacking of hapless toes, the dragging off and rending of numerous small household items and last but not least, the ever overflowing litterbox.



lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:46 PM

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Wednesday, August 28, 2002

a day in the life...
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

...of the rzanimal.

Bleary-eyed I wake to the familiar words:

"let's get up, mama!" my sleepy grey eyes flutter open to catch the gaze of my son Samadhis wide blue ones. "mama, what's for breakfast?"

Whereupon I grab him in a bearhug and pull him down for a few more minutes of snuggly torpor as I struggle up from that weird land of half-remembered dream images(boy, do I have some BIZARRE ones) and wake into the reality of being me, mama, Roseanne, the maker of breakfast.

Soon I'm sitting for Red Tara practice as he munches happily on organic cocoa puffs. It's an interesting counterpoint to meditation, not really recommended for quieting the mind, but it works alright for us. Sometimes he climbs onto my lap when he finishes his cereal and snuggles quietly(well almost always quietly) 'til I'm done. Then he usually wants to ring the bowl.

I think that must be one of the reasons why you don't see as many female lamas and gurus about-it's hard to look really serene and serious with cocoa puffs strewn about your cushion and a curious kid hanging onto you. Of course a really dedicated practitioner would rise up early and get the dharma in before her kid even stirred. I'm definately not there yet. I'm just a beginner. Maybe someday I will get serious about what life is all about. Right now I'm just living it.

Serious like Tenzin Palmo. She is amazing. I just saw her speak at Third Place books. She read from her biography, "A Cave in the Snow" and told of her life. She was one of the first western women to embrace Tibetan buddhism wholeheartedly. She spent thirteen YEARS in a cave in the mountains of Tibet meditating, by herself. She is establishing a nunnery where formerly there has only been monestaries. Building it from the ground up. What a strong, clear, powerful being she is, a truely incredible woman.

Back to my day. Watering the garden comes next, a daily ritual, somewhat tedious, always mesmerizing. I watch the cold water rainbow out in the hot sunshine, spraying down onto all my thirsty veggies, soaking the dry soil again and again to ensure that the water reaches deep down to the roots. I watch, as it bejewels the lush green leaves, dripping and sparkling on the ripening fruit. Beautiful.

Sam harvests tomatoes "are these ripe, mama?" and lays them in a long line along the garden wall, a beautiful pattern of red and orange globes, big and small. Our feet invariable get too hot on the concrete and I hose us down to the sweet high sound of his giggle.

He finds a zucchini and I let him cut it off carefully with a sharp knife. He carries it solomnly in and sets it on the counter. Then I water the flowers out front while he frets about when the sunflowers will be ripe enough to yield seeds for us to munch on. He frets at ME too much and I tell him to talk to THEM about it. So he does. He gave them quite an earful too. I'm sure they will probably ripen a little faster this year.

then I get him ready to go to his fathers house. i wash his face "Blarrgh, mama!" and brush his long blond hair "OUCH, no, no, NO!" read him a story, kiss him goodbye and watch the van drive away.

Invariably I feel sad. his father and I are not friends and it hurts. It just feels so wrong that two people who loved each other and have a child together cannot even speak freely or touch each other in friendship. They say that time heals all wounds and I continue to hope so, but the acid of this particular one seems like it will keep on boiling for a long time.

However, there's a lot to be done and so I get to it, chores and errands and emails...

And here I am, blogging! This is quite enjoyable, thanks, Daniel.

Later I will sculpt. I have a brand new bag of clay and time to myself-that's a treasure to be savored. I have work to do-a clay bust of a primitive hero and I'd better get started before I have to go and pick up Rowan and babysit her for the evening.

Wow, that was a long one, thanks to any of you that actually made it through and read my whole day!


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:06 PM

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Thursday, August 29, 2002

art or food?
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

One(hah!) more question.

As an artist who has spent many a craft fair watching customers hem and haw, decide not to buy an artpiece(something that could add beauty and inspiration to their lives for years to come) and then wander by carelessly stuffing their faces with overpriced fairfood (that lasts only as long as the indigestion)I have often wondered:

1. What do you need to see in an artwork that would impell you to choose it over yummies for your tummy?

So many people have come into my booth and just given me so much admiration and appreciation. It's a wonderful feeling and I'm glad that my art speaks to folks, but few are those who actually see the beauty and make the choice to spend their money and take it home with them. Those precious few always make my day.

2. What kind of art would you actually part with your hard-earned dollars for?

3. What do you want art to do for you?

I put a lot of my heart, soul, emotions and experiences into my sculptures, they kind of tell my story, but I like to let people experience them for themselves and make up their own stories. It's always fun for me to see people find themselves in my creations.

4. Do you like to be told about an artwork, or do you like it to be open to your own interpretation?

OK, that's definately enough, before my one more question turns into ten. I guess I'd better go back and number 'em for ya.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 12:03 AM

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discordant construction noise, or, i miss daniel
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Sound stirs
me from sleep,
fragments dream.

Remnants linger,
magic escapes,
driven from my head
by hammer bangs
and rumbling machinery.

Stretching, my body
protests awakening.
Suddenly stiff
and aware of too hot
blankets, sweaty limbs.

Eyes crack, unwilling.
Register dimly,
red numbers: 7:19.
Relief and annoyance mingle.

A luxury of hours,
mine to spend.
Naked and alone
in dreamtime.

only by discordant construction noise.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:37 AM

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the agony and the ecstacy
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Today was errand day. My gracious mother Blackbird drove me around getting shtuff done.

i was shot down by La Tienda when I took my art in there this afternoon. He said it was "more suitable for the street fair venue"...Pah! Oh well, no sour grapes. I really need my own store anyway-everyone else wants 50% of my hard earned bucks, goldang it!

Then I went to the good ol' DOL and passed my learners permit test! That means I can now learn how to drive a car. Oh joy.

You'd think the thirty-two year old mom of a four(nearly five)year old boy would already know that, huh?

Nope, i never learned how, never wanted to, still don't really want to! To tell the truth, I'm scared shitless by the whole prospect of being a fragile human body in charge of a giant hunk of metal capable of high speeds and fatal collisions.

But it's starting to seem like the thing to do.

At least the picture came out pretty nice.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 05:29 PM

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it's late, i'm tired and...
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

...feeling a little sad and lonely.

Does anyone else miss being a kid? All I needed when I was a kid was a good book and a corner to curl up in. Well, and maybe a jar of peanut butter.

My mom was cool, she'd actually let me go to bed with a book and a jar of peanut butter. Man, those were the days!

There were no adult worries hovering over my tiny kid consciousness. I didn't have a clue that there were bills to be paid, debts racking up, money dribbling in too slow... Things like rent, credit cards, legal bills and tuition were so much mumbo jumbo. My only money question was if I'd gathered enough popcans to cash in so we(the commune bratpack)could hike through the forest to the local general store and buy donuts or candy bars.

Now I'm a mama and I'm the one responsible for keeping my son safe, wellfed, clothed, sheltered, schooled and as innocent and carefree as possible in this insane world.

Mom, how the heck did you manage? And I only have one little boy. You had three of us ungrateful little brats! Wow. Thanks for dealing with one crazy situation after another, keeping us safe and loved, giving us a childhood full of marvelous games and natural treasures. Teaching us to survive hard times and to create beauty wherever we may be.

I love you.

There, now I feel better. I'm going to bed.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:34 PM

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Friday, August 30, 2002

a rant
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

to all you slacker boyfriends out there.

Yeah, you know who you are. The ones who come on all sweet and affectionate and romantical...'til you move in with us!

That's just false advertising, damn it. If you're a big fat slob don't pretend otherwise. I know everyone puts their best foot forward at first, but really, why not avoid the long slow path to hella heartache by telling it like it is right at the start?

Because then you'll never get a girlfriend? Well, maybe, but at least you will get an honest look at yourself and perhaps you might just understand what you are looking for a little better. Do you really want another human being to devote themselves to you? That's a HUGE thing to be asking for, and you have to be willing to give yourself in equal measure(that is, if you actually want it to fly)Relationships are serious work, so unless you're just looking for a good time, be ready to work.

Why the big sermon? I had a heart to heart a dear girlfriend recently. Our kids played while we made dinner and talked. She's rather aghast at finding herself living with her new partner and all the little things that magnify once you move into each others daily space.

Like dirty laundry, on the floor, thanklessly waiting to be picked up and made clean. Or dishes piling up, or dirty bathrooms...Any of the endless chores that SOMEONE has to do. Not to mention that lurking dragon of all relationship worries-finances! Who pays for what now that the couple has become a living unit?

And what about all that loving touch? Where did all the affection, the endearments, the rubbing, the little gestures and tender moments(like flowerpetals in the bathwater or lovesongs softly sung) go?

Hear me, all ye boyfriends! We need that! It is essential to our happiness. And our happiness is essential to your happiness, is it not?

Look on your mate. Is she not unique and incredibly precious to you? Then for Goddess' sake, tell her! Talk to her. You may have heard her whole story already, but I guarantee you don't know what's going on in her head NOW! Delve down into that secret magic of your lovers soul-if she will let you. It may be unsettling and a little scarey, but it will bring you closer and what are you in a relationship for anyway, if not relating?

don't be a dipshit about the dishes and chores either. Even if she is a mama, or motherly, she ain't your mama! And don't just do a minimum either, take on that whole gawdamn mountain of scarey greasy dishes-you're a MAN, aren't you? Then do chores like a real man! Put those burly muscles to use-scrubbing our floors and bathtubs. Show us what sexy and manly REALLY is.

Yes. Yes. Oh, YES!


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:29 AM

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my roomies are wrestling again
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

It's one of their favorite pastimes. Cara tries to take Ben down, Ben usually takes Cara down, then they usually dissolve into kissy giggly nonsense. Sometimes I help hold Ben down, or try to-he's pretty damn strong, and wary of being at the mercy of two wild wicked women-maybe I can get Daniel to help us pin 'im down when he returns from buddhacamp.

It's pretty good entertainment on a quiet night at home.

So, I had a nice day today, no more Irate Rzan diatribes.

I worked on my primitive man sculpture most of the day. Jim(the guy for whom I am sculpting it) came over and we worked on it together. It was really fun. He'd say:"the forehead needs to be a little higher", so I'd plop a little blob of clay on it and mold it smooth. Hey presto! A loftier brow. "More hair, he needs a big wild, sexy mass of hair" No problem, more clay blobs, rolled, tweaked on, smoothed and then roughened with a toothbrush(I love expensive tools) and voila! Big sexy hair.

I love clay. It is SO versatile and soft and lovely to tweak, pat, press, wet, squeeze and shape into whatever pleases me. Yum.

Then mom and me went and saw the movie Simone. It was amusing.

Now I'm home, blogging again. Hmmmm... How do y'all manage to spend this much time on the computer and still have lives?


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:05 PM

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a miracle in the campground bathroom
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

my mom was healed a few weeks ago.

We were camping out at Camp Long and she followed an urge to go to the bathroom. While inside she was approached by a fairly ordinary looking woman who offered out of the blue to heal the ankle she broke many months ago. It had set all funky(due in part to moms firm insistance on NOT going in to get it xrayed and checked out by a professional) and caused her to limp and need a cane to walk.

Well, my mom's certainly not one to turn down magical assistance even when it comes upon her in a restroom. Lo, the healer laid her hands on moms ankle which promptly heated up and she is now walking without a cane! Hallejulah!

Later the healer told her that when her guides tell her to do a healing, she does it whenever and wherever she might be. They didn't even let her go pee first. She said they don't really comprehend human details like that, not being in the same dimension and all.


Sometimes I wish I was more in tune with spirits and guides and all those magical beings out there, and then I'm really glad I'm NOT. It's hard enough trying to be aware of life in the earthly dimension. It would be way too challenging to be talking to folks in several different realities at once, folks nobody else could see... Er...'scuse me a minute willya, I'm just...uh...talking on my cellphone, yeah that's it, my cellphone!

Am I getting too far out? I think Daniel's been gone too long. I'm going into withdrawal. It's not a pretty sight. Please, somebody stop me!

Oh well, better too far than not far enough.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:36 PM

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Saturday, August 31, 2002

i'm a bad bad girl
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

I didn't water the garden for two whole days. My plants were drooping and very unhappy with me. So I gave 'em an extra good soaking in apology. I think they forgave me, they gave me some delicious tiny orange cherry tomatoes in return. Mmmmm...There's nothing quite like a sun-hot, fresh off the vine sweet cherry tom popping in your mouth as you water the garden.

You were expecting something else, maybe? Nah, I'm a good girl. Well, at least until D. gets back. He brings out the BAD girl in me!

I am listening to PJ Harvey yo. She always puts me in a tough girl groove.

I'm beggin' Jesus Pleeeeese. Send me his looooooove.
Send me pleeese his kisses, send him home today.
I'm beggin' Jesus, send me please his kissses...

This love becomes a tether, this room becomes a cell.

How long must I suffer, dear god I've served my time,
this love becomes a torture, this love my only crime...

Or something like that. Man can that woman wail! I wish I could evoke angst like that with my voice. Guess I'd have to smoke a lot of cigarettes.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 12:58 PM

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Sunday, September 01, 2002

sexy vampires
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

We watched "Queen of the Damned" late last night. Boy can Ann Rice make bloodsucking monsters look sexy!

Vampires have come a long way since I was a kid sneaking a forbidden peek at the TV under the swinging door in the kitchen. My sister and I slept on the fold out couch in the living room. We'd be curled up together, paralyzed with fear, unable to take our eyes off the set. I still remember the line from one vampire flick: "The sun's gone down!" uttered in tremulous terror by the heroine. Those words echoed through many a sleepless night of my childhood.

Then there was The Exorcist. That gave me nightmares for weeks. Why do we do that to ourselves? I hated being so scared, but I couldn't stop watching.

Now, the vampires are the heros despite their penchant for swooping down and viciously biting the throats out of us hapless mortals. No matter that they are unholy bloodsucking fiends, if you really get to know them, they're really kinda...sniff...noble, and so darn sexy you just gotta forgive them for a little murderous bloodlust here and there. They're really kind of sweet if you don't mind a nip or two.

Good fun and no nightmares.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:44 AM

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reccurent school dreams
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

did anyone else have highschool nightmares? I only went to public school for my last two years of HS, and for years afterwards I'd have dreams about trying to get to school, desperately attempting to find my classrooms, unable to find my locker. In general just being frustrated, lost, confused and helpless.

In college the setting changed, I'd be wandering around campus, trying to find my classes, books, etc. The theme of worry and confusion was the same.

Well, in a few weeks I'm starting school again. I'll be going to Brenneke School of Massage(Daniel's alma mater-if a massage school can be called such a pretentious term). I'm really excited, I've wanted to for a really long time. I even got an anatomy coloring book-whoopee, muscles and tendons and whatnot, colored all pretty by moi.

But, last night I had the dream again. I couldn't get to massage class. My ride left without me, there were no buses that would get me there on time, I lost my books(all two thousand million of them heavyass suckers)and I kept trying to call a cab, but no one had the number. One place I asked said they could only get a cab from Capistan, which was apparently on the other side of the globe. Bah!

So, I guess I'm a leetle nervous...


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:57 AM

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Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

This will probably be my last post, as Daniel should be back today-hurrah!

It's been yay supah fun, as Samadhi would say.

Unless something really cool and inspiring that I simply MUST share pops up, which isn't terribly likely considering that I'm in charge of the kidlets today(not that kids aren't cool and inspiring in their own right, but they aren't terribly conducive to writing and blogging) I now return the helm to Captain Talsky.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:09 AM

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blue mood or sudden fiction, rzan style
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

She paced listlessly across the living room floor. She wanted to cry, or scream, but felt too overwhelmed and exhausted to bother. What was she waiting for anyway? Who was she waiting for? She didn't even want to remember. The whole day had passed with a restless feeling of anticipation, like a child waiting for christmas, or, she thought ruefully, more like a dog waiting for its master to come home.

Pathetic. Suddenly irate, she stormed into the bedroom and threw off her clothes, tossing them onto the floor recklessly, knowing her anal retentive side would force her to pick them up soon.

As usual, the skinny girl in the mirror looked back at her with a dissatisfied expression. Slowly moving closer, she examined herself with a discerning eye, sliding her hands over her lanky hips and little breasts. She held each one up in turn as if to weigh the small, soft handfuls of flesh. Turning, she watched her long, tousled blond hair swing, felt it brush smoothly across the small of her back.

Not too bad for a thirty year old ass... but as soon as the thought crossed her mind she felt silly. She wrapped her arms around herself reassuringly, rocking slightly. An amused smile curved her mouth. Enough of this funk! No more waiting around. She began to move sensuously, hips wiggling and her lips curled in a thoroughly feline grin. Time to dance!

She twirled over to the closet and fingered through her dresses, pulling out several in a whirl of greens, purples and blues, then discarding them on the bed. Reaching into the farthest recesses, she felt around untill her fingers hit leather. Yeah, that's the one for tonight.

Cobalt blue leather and it still fit her like a glove, a tiny, tight glove. A quick dig through the pile of shoes at the bottom of her closet yielded up her high heeled boots. She buttoned them up, dragged a comb through her hair and was out the door.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:11 PM

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Sunday, December 15, 2002

go ahead, freeze my pussy off
Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel

Who knew that topically applied yogurt could help with Candida, but evidently it does.

Since rzan has a pretty tough case, of it, for the last several months I have found myself being CYA (Chief Yogurt Applicator).

If you're the kind of person who is already thinking, "This is too much information for me." Then perhaps you should go elsewhere.

So anyway, Rzan is the kind of girl who can't tolerate cold hands being warmed up on anywhere except her butt (which is hard to get to when you come in from the cold and your girlfriend is on the couch in jeans). Plus, the yogurt generally has to be stored in the refrigerator.

I hope you can see where I'm going with this. As CYA I really try to warm up the yogurt in my fingers before applying it, but even if it gets to the point where it doesn't feel cold anymore, she still jumps. I was discussing this with her, and I think she thought I was complaining.

She looked over at me with a little pouty face and said, "Go ahead, freeze my pussy off."

I did with relish. God I love that girl. :>

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 02:24 PM

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Wednesday, January 22, 2003

Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel

Man, when Rzan told me about how she passed out during a mammogram while they were smashing her breast in the machine and then fell down and broke the plastic tray with her jaw, I really wanted to blog about it.

But she wouldn't let me. "It's my story," she said, "I'll blog about it!"

I wonder how often this happens to Ben and Mena, another blogging couple.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:46 PM

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Sunday, February 02, 2003

all moved in
Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel

I'm all moved in with the Loverzan.

Love her love her love her.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 07:30 PM

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Thursday, February 27, 2003

sexy meat girl
Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel

I had to do something to break my blog writers block!

Rzan was looking so foxy on the couch tearing into a lamb steak with her fingers in long socks and a skirt. I snapped a quick, but unfortunately not-very-focused picture of her:


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 11:31 PM

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Saturday, March 01, 2003

the peas arch
Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel

The Peace Arch (by H.W. Corbett of London, England):

The Peace Arch, at the Canadian-US Border.

The Peas Arch (by Rzan 'Love-In' Edson and Samadhi 'Soup-Pants' Benjamin Zamarin Edson-Pasley)

The Peas Arch

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 01:54 AM

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Thursday, June 12, 2003

Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

This is your friendly neighborhood Rzanimal. I'm your guesthost, guestposting for D till he gets back from marrying people.

If only I knew how to scan things on his durn scanner, I'd put something purty up for y'all.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 06:59 PM

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rat update
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Our Rattie Relocation program has successfully relocated 3 rats-so far.

We can still hear some rattling about in the walls, so I guess we have plenty more candidates... Which isn't too surprising considering how long we twiddled our buddhist fingers before we got around to purchasing a havahart trap and a tub of peanut butter.

Did you know that a hardworking mama rat can pump out up to 13 litters a year and she can pop out up to 22 wee ratties per litter?

Ben didn't.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 07:20 PM

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glorious cape flattery
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

looking for big waves

Sammy wanted to see big waves on our trip out to the Peninsula, so we took him to Cape Flattery, but the waves weren't awesomely huge enough there so we went to Dungeness Spit. The waves obliged, but...

dubious rowan was TOO cold!

driftwood love

Our gorgeous friends, Jessica and Josh helped us...

building the shelter a sweet little driftwood house.

shwa flies the flag

swiss family rosenstein

Sammy proceeded to dig a firepit right inbetween everyones feet . Rowan wouldn't let Josh dig the splinter out of her foot with his Leatherman and Daniel...

all the angels come

...took all these beautiful pictures.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 07:45 PM

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Saturday, June 14, 2003

better be home soon...
Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan


'cause I miss ya and I'm afraid I'm geeking out... Instead of doing my homework, or reading, or drawing, or even-perish the thought-sleeping! I'm photochopping geeky lovenotes to post.

'n that's why I tell you, you betta be home... Sooooooon.

The tinyblog needs you.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:40 PM

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Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Author of this post is ~ tiny rzan ~ tiny rzan

Couldn't resist showing off my tiny eyes...

Welcome to our new Guest Blogger! Her milkshake brings all the bloggers to the tinyyard.

lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:47 AM

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Saturday, July 24, 2004

open letter to loverzan
Author of this post is ~ tiny daniel ~ tiny daniel


Today is July 24th, 2004, the day we once planned to get married. If it hurt as bad for you as it did for me, I am truly sorry.

I was hardly even thinking about it on Friday. Beth and I went to Buster's play, finally, on its closing night. We were drinking a beer before the show, standing in the doorwell. I was wearing a cool pair of glasses and feeling mighty cool, I was glad to be out, and glad I wasn't going to miss Buster's performance.

I saw Krista and her friend coming up, and I was glad to see her. I wanted to thank her for being a comfort to you and giving you driving lessons. As she came up I launched out my non-beer arm to hug her, but she lifted her hand and gently put my arm back down and shook her head no.

Of course everyone has a right to hug whom they please, but that really shook me up. Suddenly nothing seemed right. I don't know if she was just trying to show solidarity with you, if she was trying to let me know it was inappropriate that I was out with Beth, if she was angry at me and didn't want to be even that intimate, or if she just saw that I was jubilant and full of myself and just wanted to sober me a bit...she certainly did.

I tried to just play it cool and not show any needless drama. We didn't even wait for Buster after the play (Krista is Buster's girl). I thought of a thousand things to say to her, and was proud that I just kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't hide to myself how hurt my feelings were.

I woke up this morning and as the day wore on I just felt worse and worse. I could feel it in my body, in my chest, in my head. Nothing was fun, I was kind of a zombie. At first I just thought it was about the night before, but then I checked my messages and Cara had called to check on me and see how I was doing. I was touched, and really remembered what day it was. Then it all made sense. It didn't feel any better but it made sense. The heat of the day was so hot and sad in my head.

I tried to distract myself...I went to see Spider Man, but I just cried at all the dumb sad parts and when I got out I felt even worse. Beth and I went to the Capitol Hill block party and I saw Buster and Krista sitting on the curb. I said hi to Buster and felt so sad and awkward that things were this way. I knew she probably didn't mean me any ill will, but I just felt so judged, and couldn't even look her in the eye.

Finally I knew I had to make some kind of step, some kind of break, some kind of letting go. So I struck off on my own and just started walking north from the U. District. I walked into a barber shop, and for the first time in years, paid someone to trim my beard, just like I used to. It was so hot and I just hadn't been able to bring myself to do it before that point. You always did such a good job with your little scissors, and I couldn't bear to think of doing it any other way.

I went to see a cool little mother-in-law apartment the other day. It was very nice. The husband who lives there is a cabinetmaker, and he had done the new kitchen beautifully. It was a lovely place, and a really good deal. I put in an application Friday and she said she'd call me Monday. I checked my messages as I was waiting for the bus to Ben's house. She had called and said we should set up an appointment.

I called her back and she was so warm and sweet. She said she liked my application, and that my references were stellar (thanks again, Ben and Buster). She said that she and her husband are Buddhist as well, and that she had a really good feeling about it.

Then I did too. For the first time today I felt a little hope, and had something to look forward to.

Thank you for the bed. Thank you for being such an amazing friend and lover. You were good to me and I look forward to the day when all this pain has died down enough for us to have a friendship.


lovingly or haphazardly posted at 10:28 PM

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