Be-gifted by Karla ° Saturday, December 5, 2009 Santa said I've been a very good girl this year. Or a naughty girl. I forget, exactly what the final verdict was. But when he asked me to sit on his lap and whisper in his ear what would make me happy, I was totally honest and told him I wanted a new camera. I may have exchanged certain questionable favours but LO! Look what showed up today! My new camera! Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (7)

Uranus by Karla ° Tuesday, May 5, 2009 Nate keeps telling me that when he grows up he wants to be an astronaut. He even came home from daycare one day with a picture he coloured of an astronaut and Mark was so proud of it that I think he almost cried. And then he kept forgetting to bring it to put on his desk at work for like, two weeks. This may or may not surprise you, but Mark is a huge space fanatic, which also means he's a huge Star Trek fan and I’m constantly teasing him about how much of a nerd he is, you know, between being a computer superstar ninja and saying things to me when I ask him where he put a case of beer like, “On the Mother Ship. Resistance to beer is futile." Oh, and then there was the time when I was swooning over a Jason Statham movie and Mark interrupted the pitter patter of my beating heart to discuss something about the speed of light. Like, hello? Can you not see that the Universe should cease to exist when Jason Stathom is kicking some serious shirtless ass? I remember when Nate was four months old Mark would woosh him through the air pretending to explore places like Planet Dog Cheese and Planet Dad Cheese before landing on my tired ass and saying, “Look who just landed on Uranus Mom!” And since Mark recently got every episode of every Star Trek series and movie ever made, that’s about all this family watches anymore because Nate just can’t get enough “Spaceship” or his fill of “Nebabas (Nebulas.)” Clearly my kid has a penchant for something pretty darn cool if you ask me, and although I’ll probably miss him when he travels to Mars, who am I to limit his imagination, right? So, I bought him two 12” x 12” pieces of art for his bedroom, one of an airplane and the other a rocket ship, a giant 42” diameter remote controlled light-up sun and Solar System mobile with motorized planets that hangs from the ceiling as well as an enormous 48” x 36” Solar System art canvas. He already knows where planet Earth and our moon are, and that we live in North America. And just the other day he identified Mars. I totally admit all the spaceship stuff looks pretty lame pair with the lamb themed baby decor, but you know, I can’t let him grow up THAT fast. Labels: Mark, Nate, Thinking Out Loud Permanent link to this entry Comments (10)

Viva La Juicy by Karla ° Thursday, April 16, 2009 This may very well be the most delectable scent on the planet. I got a free sample of Viva La Juicy from Sephora a little while ago and that is when my ten-year love affair with Clinique’s Happy perfume came to a screeching halt. Viva La Juicy’s fruity floral scent reminds me of summer and it’s the most yummy and long-lasting perfume I have ever worn. I never actually bought a bottle though because, well, you know, this whole wanting to buy a bigger house thing sort of puts a damper on carefree spending, but then Mark sent me a text on Tuesday telling me he had a surprise for me and came home with a giant bottle "just because he loves me." Well, that and he likes his women Juicy. I married a total romantic, eh? Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (6)

Barbie by Karla ° Saturday, April 11, 2009 My husband gets his hair cut by a woman he likes to call Barbie. When I asked him why he calls this woman Barbie he said because she drives a fancy sports car and has nice blond hair. Anyway, he gets home from having his hair cut the other day and I asked him how Barbie was doing. And Mark was all, “Oh Barbie. Barbie Barbie Barbie!” And then his eyes glazed over and proceeded to roll so far into the back of his head he could see his asshole. And I think he may have said something about her blond hair and huge tits, but I don’t remember because I was too busy mopping his drool off the floor. Apparently, Barbie isn’t just some blond with a cute sports car that cuts my husband’s hair. No,  Barbie is a gorgeous woman who wears pungent perfume and short skirts with fishnet stockings. Barbie also wears cleavage-enhancing clothing and has mile-long legs and a tiny waist and looks exactly like a perfect bombshell version of a plastic Barbie. So I'm assuming that means her vagina must be fake, too? And then there's me -  a dishevelled wife who lives in yoga pants and ties her gray-root infested hair in a perpetual messy bun and drives a car that smells like McDonald's. Just don't forget who has the real vagina and cooks your dinner loverboy. Labels: Mark, Thinking Out Loud Permanent link to this entry Comments (11)

Stud Juice by Karla ° Friday, March 27, 2009 Found in Mark’s office closet. It is all so clear now why I am in love with him. Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (5)

The way to a woman's heart by Karla ° Tuesday, February 17, 2009 I have something very important to announce. Something extraordinary happened last weekend and I’m pretty sure that if I don’t document the momentous occasion I will wake up next week and think it was all just a fantasy. People, I have known Mark for over half of my life and have been sleeping with him for almost just as long and aside from the occasional hang-over peanut butter saturated bagel he’s made for me, the man has never ever, not even once cooked me a meal. I know! Let me clarify something about this situation though. I am perhaps the world’s pickiest eater. Worse than a toddler really, except for the part where I eat all of my vegetables, you know, as long as they weren’t cooked near, on or beside a meat product. And if you think that sounds crazy, you should see me in a restaurant or when I order a take-out sandwich and ask someone to change their gloves please and thank you because dear god those gloves probably touched MEAT! I’m pretty sure this confession totally classifies me as legally insane and overly anal. I know this because you should see how many times people have rolled their eyes at me. But suffice it to say, my avoidance of meat, and Mark’s avoidance of vegetables plus the addition of a new life into our family means that over the years, Mark and I have moulded our relationship into a comfortable harmony of compromise and that means he is the breadwinner and does not have to touch vegetables and I am the spender, er, I mean, investor of our money and cooker of food and picker upper of his man socks. Anyway, back to last weekend. Mark asked me what I wanted to do for Valentine’s Day and to be totally honest; I don’t get too wrapped up in this kind of holiday. Or any holiday for that matter, except for Christmas. If it was up to me, I’d leave a Christmas tree up in my house all year long. But birthdays? Meh. I’d rather someone take me for good conversation and a soy latte rather than eat a slice of cake. And instead of a dozen roses, I’d rather one hour alone to soak in bathtub overflowing with gossamer apple-scented bubbles that are not tainted with toddler pee. And then maybe a sensual massage by someone with strong man hands. Or a foot rub. Oh! Right! Last weekend. So Mark asked what I wanted for Valentine’s Day and I told him that I would be totally smitten if he cooked me dinner. And then he froze and asked what I would like to eat and I played coy and was all, you know, whatev, food. And man oh man did his meal ever impress. The man who does not eat vegetables unless it is broccoli covered in cheese and that is only maybe sometimes/never a) came home from the grocery store shaking his head wondering how a bevy of multi-coloured peppers and bok choy costs more than a giant box of hamburgers and b) made me a meal that was perhaps the most delish cashew-infused stir fry that I have eaten in my entire life. And then! And then! For dessert, since he knows I don’t love pastry or overly sweet sugar-laced treats he bought sumptuously plump fresh berries to dip in the most creamy and tasty organic strawberry yogurt I have ever tasted and served them to me from a wide-brimmed crystal wine glass. And they say the way to a man’s heart is through is stomach. My still goose-bumped woman skin begs to differ. Labels: Mark, Marriage Permanent link to this entry Comments (9)

Not what you think by Karla ° Wednesday, February 11, 2009 I bought some new jewellery at H&M yesterday, came home and dropped it on the dining room table. After feeding Nate and putting him to bed I cooked dinner and while Mark casually chewed on a piece of grilled chicken, I could see his eyes glancing back and forth between my necklace and his plate. Finally, after a long pause he asked, “Are those anal beads?” Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (13)

Happy New Year's Eve by Karla ° Wednesday, December 31, 2008 Please drink responsibly. Or, you know, wear a helmet. Labels: Mark, Thinking Out Loud Permanent link to this entry Comments (7)

DIBS by Karla ° Thursday, December 11, 2008 Dear Mark, Remember the mountain of plastic kid toys and bouncers and exersaucers that have been cluttering the garage floor for the past few months? Yeah, all the crap we’ve tried to take out of our house to make room for like, oh, you know, beer cases and a new wine rack and a Christmas tree? Yeah, well, this morning my van’s doors were frozen shut and I said fuck this and cleaned the chaos of toys in the garage. Honestly? I froze my ass off, and the entire process involved some rather creative hanging from the rafters and cirque du soleil acrobatics to arrange, no wait, scratch that, stuff all that crap into the storage loft. And because I so could have died from being squashed under a mass of plastic and blinking lights, I so call dibs on parking my car in the garage this winter. Love, Your newly skilled wife in rafter hanging acrobatics. P.S. This may have worked to your advantage in the bedroom, if you know, we had a storage loft in there for me to hang from. I'm sorry, no, the closet organizer does not count. xo Labels: Mark, Marriage Permanent link to this entry Comments (4)

Miracle Departure by Karla ° Wednesday, October 29, 2008 Before leaving to visit B, there were a few things around the house that I wanted to take care of, so I made a small list so that I wouldn’t forget anything. Any by small list, I mean it’s a freaking miracle I was out the door by 8:00am. I like to call this miracle caffeine. To Do: • Grill chicken breasts for Mark's lunches • Wash Mark’s work clothes • Empty dishwasher • Reload dishwasher • Break the news to Mark that there are no more home made chocolate chip cookies left • Bathe Nate • Bathe myself • Sweep the floors • Wash the floors • Pay the bills • Balance the budget • Clean the bathrooms • Windex • Polish wood furniture • Clean kitty litter • Pick up Samson’s shit in the backyard • Charge cell phone battery • Charge camera battery • Charge flash batteries • Bake muffins for Mark’s mid-morning snack • Shop for groceries • Make sure there is plenty of frozen pizza for Mark to eat • Wash produce • Pack overnight bags • Empty diaper genie shit snake • Fill van with gas • Fill Mark’s car with gas • Take out garbage • Iron Mark’s shirts • Leave a new pair of Aussie Bum underwear on Mark’s pillow for him to add to his collection with a goal of distracting him from the fact, in my absence, he will have no one to have sex with and the dog totally knows it and will insist on some man on man cuddling and spooning in our king-sized bed • Feed the cats • Feed the dog • Give cats and dog fresh water • Chop celery into bite-sized pieces for Mark’s mid-afternoon snack • Remind Mark to make sure to let Samson out for his morning dump • Pack toothbrush • Burn music CD to drown out the inevitable whining of a toddler who, in toddler terms, will argue that this upcoming road trip requires being strapped into a carseat for ETERNITY. • Map out every single McDonald's on the way to help cope with the relentless whining and chanting from the back seat of an unnamed toddler keen on a FRY! A FRY! A FRY! A FRY! SCREEEEEEECH! A FRY! Labels: Friends, Mark, Nate Permanent link to this entry Comments (15)

Etsy by Karla ° Thursday, October 23, 2008 There is one very big difference between Mark and Me. Every morning, he wakes up, showers and gets dressed in nice clothes and then he spends his day dealing with grown-up people doing very important grown up things in the very important field of health care. Me? Every morning I wake up and change a pee-soaked diaper and then proceed to spend my day with a pint sized dictator who couldn’t care less if I even brushed my hair as long as we can play hide and seek and colour and waddle and quack like ducks together. And when Nate goes down for that oh so precious nap every day, that’s when I perch myself behind the glow of a notebook screen which, incidentally, makes strange rattling noises from being tossed on the floor by an unnamed tiny human one too many times, and do things like write, blog, twitter, or process photos. So because Mark’s all OUT THERE and I’m all IN HERE, he doesn’t always get me. And by doesn’t always get me, I mean, he teases me. Like the time I finally got on board with the whole twitter thing and Mark thought that meant past tweets were twats. And then yesterday, I opened up an Etsy store, and when Mark came home from work and I told him about it, he was all, “a what?” And I was all, “Etsy! You know, Etsy!” You’ve never heard of Etsy? And he was all, “Is an Etsy like a Twitter? Because OH BABY, I’m all over twittering with your Etsy’s.” Labels: Mark, Marriage, Photography Permanent link to this entry Comments (11)

It's all about The Compromise by Karla ° Friday, September 26, 2008 I never really got to finish the story of our five-year anniversary celebratory weekend sans toddler. It started with me spending the entire day Friday scrubbing this house from top to bottom. Somewhere in between scrubbing toilets and folding man socks, I got my hair did. The last time my hair saw the shears of a stylist was over nine months ago. Christmas of 2007, to be exact. I’ve been waiting, ok fine, procrastinating nine long months for this haircut, so even though Mark was hoping to come home to a lingerie-clad wife ready for a romp in bed, humans are able to gestate and birth their offspring faster than I get to the salon and you can bet your sweet ass I didn’t want to ruin my hair for a quickie. God, like, as if. Instead, I put on a super low cut shirt and while waiting for Mark to get home from work, I shampooed the carpets in my sexy mom van. Hot, I know. And because I am all about The Compromise, I left a cold bottle of beer on the hood of the van for Mark when he got home. We cooked the most delish dinner I’ve eaten in months. Unfortunately Mark hated it, but whatev. I wanted to eat something grown up-ish for a change. Too bad that Mark thinks vegetables taste stupid. This reminds me of the last time I asked him bring me home a vanilla soy latte with no foam from Starbucks. He told that my request undermined his ability to be a heterosexual man and that I might as well be asking him to place an order for a great big giant froufrou rainbow. We had a wild and crazy night doing all the kinky things that married couples with kids crave. Sleep. And after sleeping for 11 hours straight, that’s right, 11 glorious hours of coma-like uninterrupted sleep, my muscles came thisclose to completely atrophying. We woke up the next day and set out for a mid-morning hike. After following the path for a while, Mark wanted to try my new Canon EF 24-70mm L USM f/2.8 lens, and I hemmed and hawed about it, because we all know what kind of pictures the man takes, but I made him promise that he had to take interesting pictures of nature-y things that did not include my ass. I have to hand it to him, he tried, he really did. He just needs to work on his angles. And by angles, I mean pointing the camera 180 degrees away from my ass. And this is exactly what makes us such a perfect couple. He wants sex all the time, and I want him to pick up his fucking socks all the time. It’s a good thing we’re all about The Compromise, because if one of us always got our way, we’d either end up with like 400 kids, or, gasp, a clean house. Labels: Mark, Marriage Permanent link to this entry Comments (3)

Five years by Karla ° Friday, September 19, 2008 Tomorrow is Mark and my five-year anniversary. It’s the day I married my best friend. The man who I’ve known for more than half of my entire existence on this planet. And you know? After two years of inseparable friendship, seven years of dating, and five years of marriage, I can say without a doubt that we're both totally different people than those awkward 15 and 17-year-olds crossing the alcohol-enabled boundary line to kiss their best friend. But I also know, without a doubt, that friendship has been the glue that has kept us connected all these years. Mark is my rock. My perpetually hot man rock that lets me warm my frozen toes against his legs every night and wrap my fingers through his burly man hands while drifting off to sleep. And this is how I know he’s a keeper; because even when I tell him that my vagina is too tired for sex. Again. I know. I’m so sorry honey. I can’t control these things, but here, let’s hold hands! He respects that. At least, until, you know, the next night. He’s patient. And clever. Because he totally knows that my vagina can’t possibly be tired forever. We aren’t doing anything extravagant for our anniversary, unless you count sending our kid to visit his Grandparents for the weekend extravagant. We’ll probably stay in and cook an honest to goodness grown-up meal that isn’t made of pizza, peanut butter or French fries; practically the only food items that exist on planet earth that my kid will eat. Incidentally, when Nate was in the hospital a few days ago the Pediatrician noted how skinny he is. And really, he is. The kid has no meat on his bones. But then again, I’m sporting clavicles so pronounced that gymnasts could balance on them, so his small frame comes as no surprise. But just to be sure, as part of the routine blood tests, various nutritional tests were also done, and LO! He may only weigh 22 lbs at 20 months, but somehow, somewhere, buried in the depth of my homemade wheat germ-infused whole wheat pizza crust; he’s getting all the nutrition he needs. So, our kid is miles and miles away, and Mark and I have an entire house, sans toddler, to ourselves for the entire weekend. Mark’s still at work, and so far today, after dropping Nate off, I’ve vacuumed and shampooed the carpets, scrubbed two bathrooms from top to bottom, called my mom to talk to Nate, only to find out he was too busy having fun to care, cleaned dog snot and sticky peanut butter coated fingers prints from every glass surface in the house and washed and folded three loads of laundry. And I know if Mark is reading this, his heart is sinking to unfathomable depths because the last time I cleaned this much it sent my vagina into a coma. Don’t worry baby, I promise I'm still in tip top shape to perform the number one thing we wanted to do this weekend. Sleep. And because it’s a special weekend, seeing that it’s our anniversary and all, I promise to spoon with you instead of the dog. Just don't forget to bring home the vino, mmmkay? Labels: All in the Family, Mark, Marriage Permanent link to this entry Comments (14)

That's what she said by Karla ° Monday, August 25, 2008 Me: Take sip of water. Begin incessant sputtering and choking. Mark: “Are you OK?” Me: “Cough, choke, GASP! COUGH COUGH!” Mark: “Karla, are you OK?” Me: “COUGH! SPUTTER! COUGH COUGH COUGH!” Come thisclose to dying, recover and live to tell the tale. “Yeah, it just went down the wrong hole.” Mark: “That’s what she said.” Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (8)

Vacation Photos: A Man's Perspective by Karla ° Monday, August 18, 2008 Every time I get home from vacation and start pouring through all of the pictures and video that Mark and I took, I’m faced with one common theme. And this theme has nothing to do with the standard touristy snapshots of colourful artisan markets, wide-brimmed sunhats, or scenic marvels from a faraway land forever stilled in the flushed light of daybreak. No, the common theme from all of our vacation photos, at least when Mark’s handling the camera, is photo after photo after photo of MY ASS. Note Exhibit A. Exhibit A: Typical vacation scenery, according to Mark. Long time readers may recall the video I put together from all the footage that Mark, all clandestine and stealthlike, took of my postpartum derrière when we escaped to the spirit-healing region of the Rocky Mountains shortly after Ava passed away. If you haven't seen it, brace yourself for the eyesore that was my favourite pair of post pregnancy waist-expanding bubble gum-pink yoga pants, decade old rap music, and visible panty lines. Yesterday, while wadding through an absurdly large and comprehensive collection of my backside for a photo of us from our recent trip to Las Vegas to include in a framed wall display, I found absolutely zero nice photos of the two of us together and settled instead on framing subliminal pornography. But you know, all things considered, I guess it’s a good thing he’s an ass man, because after more than a year of dedicating my mammaries to breastfeeding, Mother Nature went ahead and rewarded me the chest of a 12-year-old boy. Labels: Mark, Vacation Permanent link to this entry Comments (13)

Surprise by Karla ° Tuesday, August 5, 2008 Whenever Mark is on holidays, some rather notable changes take place in our home. Like, for example, the sudden disappearance of every cup in the cupboard, only to have them reappear in various indiscriminate locations all over the house. Like on top of the toilet for example. You know, in places one would totally expect to find half-empty glasses of water. We usually run the dishwasher every other day. And by we, I mean me, but since Mark’s been home, that machine (bless its automated dishwashing soul) has been run every single day. Now, I grew up in a very frugal household, and because my family did not even have the means to waste money on extra drops of dish soap, I was taught to reuse the same water glass for an entire day. And you know, I still do this today. But not because I can’t afford dish soap. I’m just too lazy about emptying the never-ending pile of dishes in the dishwasher. My mom also taught me to never to use the same knife in the jelly jar that had just been dipped into the peanut butter jar, but whenever my mom visits, watching the look of horror spread across her face as I prepare my morning bagel is so worth living with peanut butter tainted jelly. I was also taught to clip coupons, but after a while, I just found the task of spending Sunday afternoons diligently sifting through stacks of flyers to save ten cents off of a bottle of brand name ketchup a waste of time when all I have to do to save that money is hide all the treats in the house on Mark instead. And besides, I don’t have a problem with no name ketchup, especially since, you know, I don’t even eat it. And Mark, don’t think I can’t see you cringing as you read this because I know how much you love to saturate your hamburgers in nothing but soppy piles of ketchup. Just remember that when we took our wedding vows and promised to love each other unconditionally, it’s not my problem you forgot to include splurging on brand name condiments as a caveat to that oath. Perhaps this Sunday instead of a surprise blowjob you’d like to clip coupons together instead? Oh wait, never mind, this Sunday I will busy doing seventeen loads of laundry in addition to my usual never-ending pile of weekly loads because Mark and I cannot seem to agree on a general sock wearing consensus. After Nate has a bath, I’m happy to have him finish the day wearing the same pair of socks that he started it with. Mark on other hand, insists a squeaky clean kid needs freshly laundered clothes. Including socks. Which, you know, I can totally live with. I’ll just be too busy washing socks to give that surprise blowjob. Labels: All in the Family, Mark, Vacation Permanent link to this entry Comments (14)

Faithful Pillow Warmer by Karla ° Wednesday, July 23, 2008 Mark is sick. And by sick, I don’t mean he’s sick as in a totally rad husband kind of sick, even though he is; I mean honest to goodness sick. And this is a man who never gets sick. The whole time I’ve known him, which is over half of my 28 years of existence on this planet, I have never seen him like this. Except maybe for the thousand zillion hangovers we’ve nursed together over the years, but technically those don’t count because they’re self inflicted. Mark, the hardest working work-life balance man that I know, never takes time off work unless it is for a well planned and executed holiday from the office that will ensure freedom from a perpetually vibrating BlackBerry. But last Thursday night a fever worked its way into his fiendishly fit man body that just kept escalating higher and higher. Planning to spend a quiet day fighting his fever-induced grogginess in bed, Mark rose early on Friday morning to wrap up some work related business that needed to be handled in his absence. While he was busy in the home office, Nate and I ate breakfast at his pint-sized toddler table, brushed our teeth and then headed to daycare. Once home, I put on a much needed pot of focus-enhancing coffee and before getting started on a new freelance writing project, I went to check on Mark in bed only to be greeted by our faithful four-legged companion keeping Mark’s pillow warm while he soaked in tepid bath water and tried to lower his soaring temperature. Shortly after sitting down to write the entire house filled with the disgruntled swearing of an overheated man with only half a voice. Samson, never wanting to be left out of whatever the humans are doing, had left on Mark's pillow the most giant pile of previously eaten chicken by-product breakfast that I have ever seen. And while we scrambled to clean up the mess, Samson just layed there and gazed at us with his penetrating chocolate brown eyes, as if to say, “Oh hai. I has a sick too. Please to give cuddles now?” Labels: Mark, Samson Permanent link to this entry Comments (10)

Uphill both ways by Karla ° Wednesday, April 30, 2008 My parents came to visit last weekend, and as much as I love the actual visiting part, I really love that my mom takes over diaper duty when she’s here. Also pretty awesome is the free babysitting. Last weekend, Mark and I took full advantage of having my parents around and went out for some adult fun and consumption of draught beer under the yellow haze of an afternoon sun. We decided to ride our bikes the two miles to sit on a sun-drenched patio and after putting on a pair of low-rise bootcut jeans, clear lip gloss and coating my lashes in a luxe finish mascara, I declared myself ready. But Mark was all, “Where is your helmet?” And I was all, “But I don’t want helmet head.” And then Mark got all Mr. Safety on me and insisted we wear helmets, which I suppose is justifiable on account of it being the law, and also on account of the fact that my belly would be filled with beer which could quite possibly shift my center of gravity off balance. Not that I'm speaking from past experience or anything. To help offload some weight, I decided not to bring my giant diaper-stuffed mom purse and enlisted the help of Mark’s pockets to carry a few things for me. So there we were, all decked out in our bicycle helmets, Mark’s pockets bulging with my lady things and barely out of the driveway when a flared pant leg got caught in my bicycle chain. And do you know what I did? I became the epitome of hip and cool and tucked my jeans into my argyle-patterned socks and rode the entire uphill bike ride along the main road in town to the pub like that. Once we got there, we passed the time holding hands on top of a faux granite-topped table and laughing heartily under the tilted cover of an oversized umbrella until the sun changed its path in the sky and it was time to tuck my pants into my socks again and leave. And I am not even kidding; the entire ride home was all uphill, too. Seriously, when Nate gets older and starts complaining about how tough life is, I’ll have no problem telling him about how many fashion laws I had to break back in the day while riding my bike uphill both ways just to spend an entire afternoon consuming alcohol. Labels: It's All About Me, Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (14)

Antenna by Karla ° Saturday, April 12, 2008 I asked Mark to pick up some of his stuff that was sitting on the kitchen counter because it was starting to bother me, and he all, “Bother you? Really?” And then he poked me in the ear with his balloon antennas. Labels: Comic Relief, Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (13)

Red Rocket by Karla ° Friday, April 4, 2008 Mark works in the fast-paced, vibrantly cosmopolitan city of Toronto. A few years ago he snapped this photo, and it instantly became a favourite of mine because he managed to capture the Grim Reaper's headless hippie brother in the streetcar windshield making a peace sign. Labels: Mark Permanent link to this entry Comments (11)

Topics All in the Family Baby Nate Big Bad Belly Shots Birth Blast From the Past Boobs Comic Relief Fitness Friends Grief and Loss From House to Home Half Marathon Home Improvement In Memory of Ava It's All About Me Kids Say the Cutest Things Letters Lululemon Mark Marriage Motherhood Moving Up Nate Photography Pregnancy Pets Putting the Ass Back in Class Samson Soapbox The Learning Curve Thinking Out Loud Vacation Video

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