whoopsie daisy

bebe bites.

first christmas.

things like:

decorating trees. and first bites of food. and sprinkings of snow. and christmas carols?

and winter walks. and off-road stroller-riding.

and snacking.

lots. and. lots.

of snacking.

julius, the baby of the world, is dreamy.

and fat.

something like vegas

in the spirit of the vegas distortion,

a few photos with muckery.

opulence. and beyond. three floors of crystal chandeliers. lingerie shoppes with live models. stripper contests at 1pm on a tuesday in a casino. the sky is the only shepard of time.

three deep breaths for the mother-in-law. or perhaps, three deep shots of tequila. let this be known kendra: aging gracefully is an art. see email for more on that note.

stunned & stupor. dior. gucci. cavalli. dolce. herrera. vuitton.

you get the idea. walter (the bunny), prone to enjoying the finer things in life, would have gotten his mind blown.

chingching.ching.

(julius really liked the lions).

"GIGI"

mmmm the desert. amazing. desert.

palms that stretch into the sky. palm trees that scream of the delicious luxury of days soaking in the sun, of clear blue skies, and a stiff drink.

after seeing that hooters hotel & casino was using a 4 story robotic t-rex to eat cars and then blow fire over them (daily at 9am, 330pm, and 730pm) as a promotional bit, i read julius goodnight moon. and put his glasses on. and reminded him that a juliosaurus rex is NOT a hooter's t-rex.

vegas was fun.

photobooth delights.

a few from the photo booth archives.

poetry;

the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, forexciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevatedthoughts.

create;

to cause to come into being, as something unique that wouldnot naturally evolve or that is not made by ordinaryprocesses.

draw;

to bring toward oneself or itself, as by inherent force orinfluence; attract:

or;

to sketch (someone or something) in lines or words;delineate; depict

fly;

to be carried through the air by the wind or any other forceor agency

love.

one final thought of the evening.

how the hell are baby bums the friggin' cutest things on this planet!?

even if their bodies are chubby, their bums are flat and kind of wrinkled, just waiting for some chub to fill them in.

just wrinkly little bums. the cutest. goddamn charmers, those bums.

love k

p.s. i miss julius. please give him ten thousand kisses. and thank you for your message of hilarity and delight. i loved it and i saved it. and it will be listened to again very soon.

one more thing...

dear emma rose,

if you could so kindly oblige:

no more mention of tellhellsa

in public spaces (virtual or physical).

and that's final.

i refuse to have an address at that place.

so, as it stands, kindly use my parent's physical location on this planet.

signed, with utmost sincerity and heaps and bounds of love, and

probably a few hariboo bears launched internationally,

k-bomb.bomb.

also, this.

spools of narrative

once upon a time: a small spool group (potential clothes, shoes,
fancy stitching on hand bags (unsequined, of course), and leggings)
amassed to become a dog-pile of multi-coloured thread.
is thread-pile more appropriate? yes, a thread pile.
strewnabout, and such.
the way spools often become strewn.
in that way.

magical: alignment. aligned. (but not quite!)

WAIT! what is that?

the littlest yellow spool. all alone and lonely.

just to the back, just to the right.

and the deviant pink spool!

on her back again. out in front. and a slightly unwound?

unlike the brown, grey, and black "suit" types.

oh, you KNOW

that they will be suits one day. they can hardly wait. and they

will be perfect specimens for this role.

i may even know the particular location of the closets in which they'll be hung in.

starts with a T ends with an A. yup.

(just look how straight they stand!)

and then...

re-alignment. love.
the pink and the yellow: together at last.
and even better: slightly to the back, slightly to the right!
just as they really wanted.
and the suits?
well, they just remain. as is. as they will be. as they do.
(but if you look closely, really closely, you may see something...perhaps
just a little bit of unwinding...?
don't be surprised..it happens. it really does - even to the most suitiest of suits)


the end.

.Moccasins & Naked Butts.

riddle me this;

riddle me that:

what on earth is cuter,

than baby fat??

pudgy legs;

and

pudgy arms;

one of todays

greatest charm

so kick up your heels

and pull up your socks

cause on your door

mr. julius knocks.

Knock

knock

knock

knock

knock

knock

knock

knock

knock

Love in the Morning

imagine the utter glee of waking up next to a small little angel, whose face beams full of light and love, unconditional, every single morning.

his face speaks of the usual: innocence, sheer amusement, and pure adoration. in the contours, there is more. there is wonder. there is hope. there is complete surrender and helplessness. there is life. and there are the tiniest sparks that erupt constantly of becoming a human.

things like, rubbing ones eyes.

things like, grabbing onto his mommy's hair.

things like, putting everything within reach in ones mouth.

things like, discovering the pure delight of the softest, silkiest blanket in the world rubbed against one's cheeks.

things like that.

things like, falling in love with lights. why? because they are amazing!

Remnants of Home

they say the grass is always greener on the other side.

well, i'm unsure about the color schema, or use of grass for such a metaphor (the peaches are always riper on the other side?)

but i do know those heartfelt pangs of missing home.

i think more than anything, i miss the outdoors. the mountains and lolling hills. the skiing and the activity.

and i miss you tremendously.

weirdness here prevails.

its a good thing i have my pictures to reflect and,

er,

center?

something like that.

Bread and Puppet Theatre

When i was 8, my father also thought this looked like a grande idea.

1. get in car. summertime.

2. notice it is roughly 95 degrees farenheit. also notice there is no air conditioning in my grandfather's suburu outback.

3. spent 5 and a half hours getting there. its a one hour drive.

there was a lot of traffic. and a lot of parking difficulties.

4. hike an hour in the hot dust.

5. arrive at the site. the organizers forgot to plan water. i mean, water of any sort.

6. sit in a dust bowl watching men on giant stilts scream politics for roughly two hours.

7. jack cried through most of it.

8. walk the hour back to the car.

9. drive the hour home (no traffic on the way back, obviously).

10. swear never to attend again.

this is in vermont - it looks like a really nice time.

http://breadandpuppet.org/photo-gallery/museum-images

yes, please.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cu8mohSfC7o

sticky situation?

found this and thought of you - of course. seattle?

calling?

http://skysignal.tumblr.com/post/1591355162/photograph-by-jordan-siemens-united-states-over

cute baby.

you have an extraordinarily cute baby.

mossy hearts.

i like moss & i like you.

and you are, without doubt, a heart from

the kootenays.

and there is lots of moss in the kootenays.

and well, i guess, a moss heart is the best kind

of heart there ever was.

so, do you know what im sayin' ?

you! yah, you! you're a moss heart and i love you.

wee smiles

such concentration!

pink adidas hoodies.

just wanted to say that i will call you this evening. i miss you.

i wish i was in the kootenays, soaking up

sun beams and autumn leaves.

i bet your mom has fallen head over head over heels once more.

oh, sigh.

love you so much. enjoy these little guys.

love, me.

trick or treat!