by Karla ° Thursday, July 30, 2009


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Slave labour
by Karla ° Saturday, July 25, 2009
Samson told me that if I make him carry one more box up those stairs he is going on strike and renegotiating his contract as the family pet whose been without fair wages since being forced to spoon with random humans all night long against his will.

Apparently we had an agreement that stated he is allowed to sit around and do nothing all day but eat, sleep and poop. And by sleep I mean shovy shover kick you in the head privileges on a king sized bed, and by eat I mean dibs on all Nate’s snack bowls and lizard tongue yoinks of random food bits off counter tops and by poop I mean the uncanny ability to deposit a shit load of crap on the lawn only a cow farmer could be proud of.


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All I actually intended to buy was coffee
by Karla ° Thursday, July 23, 2009
See what happens when you go shopping half asleep?

Lesson number one: Heed ye this warning people. Aside from the jaw-dropping final bill, schlepping through the empty early morning aisles at Wal-Mart before caffeinating one's body may cause your inner bitch to ROAR when a staff member yells at you for opening a box to see if you actually like the colour and quality of the new dinner set you intend to buy. And when you question her demands by saying there are no signs stating you're making her life hell by the possibility of maybe, just maybe, invoking the intolerable task of causing her to close a fucking box, which, god, I’m not a moron, I can close a box myself and also? Also? I religiously spend a couple hundred dollars at Wal-Mart every month, you know, on Pull Ups and shampoo all that crap for my family, so are you telling me that after all these years of spending stupid amounts of money here, oh and let’s not forget I have a cart full of like $400 bucks worth of crap, that if I just go ahead and buy this dinnerware set and take it home and totally dismantle the goddam box and decided I hate it and return it, that instead of repacking one plate (which, again, I can slip back in the box thankyouverymuch I AM HUMAN observe this prowess I like call hands), that repackaging all 16 pieces at a later date is a better option? I’m sorry but I need to see what I’m fucking paying for.

Lesson number two: Never, EVER leave the house uncaffeinated. It's like PMS on speed with a crotchety hangover.

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First Wedding Shoot
by Karla ° Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wow, so much to catch up on over here at chez Knots. Between weddings shoots (one out of the county) and moving an entire household and all its crap across town and attempting to dig my way out boxes, I pretty much have no idea what day it is. Every night Mark and I walk around like zombies at Home Depot and come home pumped full of great ideas but decide to fall directly into a pillow and fall asleep on our faces instead.

While I try and remember where to find toilet paper and a brush, here are a few shots from a wedding I assisted with in Kingston, Ontario a few months ago. Shots from the two-day wedding I assisted with in NY are coming soon.


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Settling in
by Karla ° Saturday, July 18, 2009
We needed to fill the truck twice; once for furniture and once for all Nate's baby gear and toys.

I’m barely exaggerating.


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Crunch time
by Karla ° Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Words here have been rather sparse these days but the buzz of activity in this home is far from stagnant. It’s crunch time before we move into our new house with more bedrooms than I ever plan to have kids, but that’s only because I’ve promised my friends who live down the street their own bedroom because we’ll no longer be in walking distance of each other anymore. We define walking distance with a very complex mathematical formula that equals the distance one can travel on foot while carrying X amount of alcohol.

We move in less than a week and in a couple of days I'll be heading to pick up my Mom who will stay here to guard the floor-to-ceiling boxes with Nate while I leave the country to assist accomplished Photojournalist/Photographer Angie at a weekend-long wedding shoot. And then I'll return to Canada, sleep for like, three hours and then OH MY GOD! Keys to move into the new house!

Just as soon as we finish a backbreaking good time of loading our entire lives into 26 feet of truck space and actually figure how to drive said massively ginourmous vehicle and not take out a lamp post every time we turn a corner.

Our house is almost packed and it feels like I've already packed 26 million boxes of... what? I don't even know anymore, but whatever is in them, apparently, life still forges on and it just makes me wonder how we’ve barely even noticed the fact that 95% of our very important worldly possessions are haphazardly stuffed inside cardboard containers that have not been used in several weeks.

I'm trying to figure out what the hell is inside all the boxes and all I can think of is one giant Costco Christmas wreath and about 300 Sesame Street and Dr. Suess books from my childhood. The rest of the boxes have obviously multiplied exponentially without my prior knowledge and now I'm afraid to open them and find out what's inside.


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