- See more at: http://blogtimenow.com/blogging/automatically-redirect-blogger-blog-another-blog-website/#sthash.ZOSg03mN.dpuf Katie Nugent Photography: February 2010


Diana says hello.

Diana photos are rarely what you expect. They are individual and have personality and don't play by the rules. Sometimes you get two images on one photo and other times you are surprised by how perfectly this camera can capture the moment.

Anyways, the developer decided to cooperate. Now we can see what this camera does with black and white.

Also. The little asian man says hello. He hopes you all enjoy the photos.

Well technically he didn't actually say that, but I'm sure he meant to. He was busy taking photos of babies for their passports. Which brings me to the next question: Why didn't I have a passport when I was 6 months old?

Whenever I saw a woman dressed in traditional bolivian attire it reminded me of something. I don't know what. Like when you know the answer but you can't quite word it. They had a quietness that was fierce. Their faces were creased with wisdom and when they laughed in their little gaggles, well I nearly asked if I could join their lives, but I didn't.

It was sweltering on this day. We had to pass across the border by foot and wait in line for 2 hours to have our passports stamped. It felt like controlled chaos. Donkeys and foreigners and potatoes farmers. Bikes with sacks of onions and mangoes to sell. Chaos. In the loveliest form.

Mountains. Snow. Home.

Canoeing. You can see the canoe imposed over that man of mine. It was quiet. Calm. No one but us out there.



It's good to have projects. Here's something I'm working on. A little look-- do you like the few prototypes?

{Photos and words by me... for you}


drawing the curtain

When I was a kid I had a desk in my room that consisted of a piece of painted MDF attached just below my windowsill. Below this desk was my cave-- featuring a most inviting eyelet curtain door, which generally hid my dolly bed and other very important things. 

Now this may come as a shock to you, but I got sent up to my room. Often. And every time I was doomed to a sentence of hard time in my bedroom- after I had thrown myself across the bed in wild protest, kicking, screaming, creating chaos in my chamber- I would slip behind the curtain. Surrounded by my most cherished possessions (mostly dolls and stuffed animals), I would invent my own world of make believe and fairy tales and no punishing mommies and daddies-- which helped me forget all about my punishment. Until I heard the stairs creak. At that point I would rip back the curtain, fling myself across the bed and splay my arms over my eyes so they could see I was deep in penance. 

To this day I have places to go when the world spanks me with a wooden spoon. I think it's the most important thing to have. So here are a few places I would like to have as my curtained make believe spots. 


Keep floating

I know someone. She is a most interesting being. Just about one of the sweetest creatures in the world, save for the few times she is a space cadet, floating somewhere between earth and sky. It isn't her fault. She was born that way. I know. I remember her that far back. She really has always believed that life would support her, and so it has. She believes in the magic of life and all things associated. She laughs with her entire body, and isn't afraid of the ugly face you make when you're laughing that hard. She'll tell you the truth even when it's not very nice, but she'll put it in the nicest sentence you've ever heard. 

Still. With all that belief and magic and floating-- she's had her heart smushed. 

It doesn't matter that they weren't together for all that long-- she was smitten from the start. That's how she is. Doesn't hold back. Believes the world will catch her, even if she falls with a thud. Not a mean muscle in her body, but she's sure got a lot of love in the little heart. 

What do you say to someone, who's heart is obviously hurting, especially as THE DAY of all things LOVE is so very close by. 

You say: 

Please don't stop believing in a world that catches you. Don't stop believing in that GREAT BIG LOVE you know is out there. Don't stop floating around. Don't get jaded-- or you might just become like everyone else, and that would be a real tragedy. Because if you become like everyone else, it might ruin you forever. And if you stop believing, that boy who comes along, and is careful with your heart, well, he might not see just how enormous that heart is, if you tuck it away out of sight. So please keep floating, even if that means you're an hour late for our coffee date. Maybe just get a watch. 



I wasn't going to write a post today... perhaps because it was late and I had no words for you. But then I read
this, at the sartorialist, and I thought I should give you a glimpse at the kind graceful things my man does for me. After all, I write a good chunk of my posts about his antics, that are less heart fluttering from adoration and more heart palpitating from anxiety. Here is a nod toward the heart flutters. 

• He sends me little emails on days when he is far away and knows I need a hug 
• He phones every morning he's away for a chat (coffee dates)
• He rubs my yoga-induced aching legs every time I ask him to
• He cleans up the kitchen even after I've made an enormous mess making dinner
• He believes in every little dream I have ever voiced and stands behind me regardless of my indecisions in life's pursuits. 

There are more. Many more, but secrets are good in relationships. Best when shared between two people.


because I am not a goddess...

"Life has to be discovered from moment to moment, from day to day. It has to be discovered. It cannot be taken for granted. If you take it for granted that you know life, than you are not living. Three meals a day, clothing, shelter, sex, your job, your amusements and your thinking process-- that dull repetitive process is not life.  Life is something to be discovered. And you cannot discover it if you have not lost, if you have not put aside what you have found. Put aside your philosophies, religions, racial taboos, customs, and all the rest of it. For they are not life." "A man who says he knows is already dead. But the man who says "I don't know" who is discovering, finding out, who is not seeking an end, not thinking in terms of arriving or becoming-- such a man is living, and that living is truth." 
words by Krishnamurti-- whether he knew about life, the heart, the mind, the spirit, well now that's opinion. Regardless, in my opinion, these words are beautiful. And I hope you enjoy them the way I do. They make me feel not quite so weird when I sit, holding my breath, thinking about what I would be if I were a goddess. Not so alone in my searching I suppose. Discovering is a much nicer picture than someone holding her breath thinking about Life. Much nicer indeed. 


If I was a goddess this is what I would be...

Lately, I've been trying to figure out Life on the macro scale and why and how and all the other questions that can never be answered. I do this sometimes. Get all shook up for no apparent reason, and then I have to spend some time mulling things over, looking at my feet as I walk the dog for hours. Hoping, wishing, searching for answers that ultimately can't and won't and maybe shouldn't even be answered. I generally turn to old texts, or texts on old theories, though I know the intellectual mind could never fully understand the Universe in all its complexities and simplicities. Sometimes when I think about the Universe, and how big it is and how light travels and how it's constantly expanding I get so overwhelmed I have to hold my breath just to remember I'm human and can't possibly know all the answers.

But if I were a goddess and did have all the answers here's what I would do with my all encompassing powers:

First I would dress like this:

I would do this for people who's faith is waning:

I would remind the world to do more of this:

And less of this:

I would probably still wonder this:

I would believe this with my whole heart:

And this would be my one go to for unanswerable questions:

maybe I don't need all the answers after all. 


my dog the shit disturber

I hadn't planned on telling you this story, as I felt this space draws a cultured crowd, who enjoy the finer details in life, but then I realized  I am not of elite blood so if you can't be bothered with toilet talk I recommend checking out
this website instead.

This tale begins a few days back when my beloved Dog, Kaz, and I went on a nice little stroll around the neighbourhood. As is often the case, we stopped and tossed his beloved kong. To say he adores his kong is an understatement. It is his admirable companion, aside from me and Chad, his raison d'etre, his lifeline. When the kong goes under the couch and out of his reach, he will lay heartbroken next to the place where his BFF fell victim to the underbelly of the couch, and wait for someone to rescue it. 

As we walked back to the house I lead the way, and Kaz took up the rear, with important sniffing to be done. As soon as I rounded the corner I realized he was not on my heels and so turned back to find him. There he was whining at the bushes, his kong no where in sight. SO I told him to find it and get moving. But he just sat there whining. When I took a few steps towards the him, I could see his kong lying in front of him. So I yelled at him to get it and come, but he didn't budge. Finally I made my way over to him and saw the problem: He had obviously had an unexpected gurgle and had had to evacuate pronto, except in his haste he managed to cover his poor kong. It was a dilemma indeed. Now I am not one to shy away from unpleasantries-- in fact I even clean the sink goo out with my bare hands, but I draw a line at picking up toys covered in warm turd.  So I told him he had to decide what to do: leave it be or suck it up and carry it home.

Kaz is a 'leave no mad behind' kind of dog. But he was mad at me, spitting and snarling once we'd made it home. And to add insult to injury I made him leave it outside in the rain to clean off. 

Yesterday, after hosing the thing off, we set out once again for our stroll. And while at the field he dropped the ball just a few meters ahead of me. This is one of his games, drop the ball a little bit further away to prove he's master. I was talking to him and telling him how pathetic I thought that was, and then as I reached down and picked up the kong I discovered the warm and mushy telltale sign of the masterplan behind his little game.  I am quite sure I heard him laughing and muttering how it served me right to force him to eat his own feces, but then it's hard to know as I don't speak Dog.

Touche, Kaz, touche. 


The final days...

For my last supper, Agustin, Morgan's charming other half, arranged for us to dine out in style at a local tango performance. The dining area was enormous and was, I'm told by Mr. Charming himself, one of the oldest restaurants in Buenos Aires. I think he said it used to be a coffee house and I'm pretty sure there was something about a christmas tree and his grandmother going there as a little girl, but I was so enraptured by the vintage romance of the building, with wrapping balcony, and ancient waiters in white dress shirts and slicked back hair, that I completely forgot to listen to the mini-history lesson. Forgive me Agu, you were by far the best tour guide of my trip!

The dancing, the music, the singing was sultry and soulful. And I wanted desperately to know how to dance like that. Apparently, the tango began as a form of presenting prostitutes, a little classier than forcing the poor girls to hang out in dark street alleys. The pimp and his harlot would begin a slow, seductive choreography, he moving her this way and that, revealing her curves and ability to move.
Emotion and lust and all things provocative were reflected in each step the dancers took, each melody played by the four-piece band, and each heart wrenching tune sang by the duo. There was one dance in particular, with a chair and one couple, that had me wondering whether the older women in the crowd might have heart attacks from the explicit moves, but then it's Buenos Aires and people don't seem fazed by sex like we northern bumpkins. 

When the show ended, it was past midnight, and I was amazed how quickly time seemed to pass in BA. Perhaps that's what happens when you're enraptured and not worried about bills and deadlines. We ended the night with a quick stroll through THIS amazing hotel, where I shall go stay if I ever win the lottery. Although I don't play so it might just remain a little fantasy. 

In the morning Morgie and I crawled out of bed and ventured to the neighbourhood of Palermo, home of the Palermo Market, which I did not experience, but am told is enormous and filled with beautiful art, designs and tinkery. 

Palermo via flickr
Palermo is to BA what Gastown is to Vancouver. It's all hip and happening, with so many wonderful stores you wonder how on earth you'll ever leave this place. But you will, and you do. Braced with a few more bags, and a few less Argentinean Pesos. We ate our enormous salads on a rooftop with all the other pretty people, and I was trapped somewhere between feeling spoiled to have such a lovely day, with a lovely friend, in a lovely city and feeling sad that this was my last lovely day, with my lovely friend in this very lovely city. As was always the case, the time crept up and soon it was time to say goodbye. I left BA the same way I arrived-- in a cab where neither I nor the cab driver spoke the other's language. 

It wasn't until I cleared customs and was sitting enjoying a final glass of bubbles-- to celebrate-- that I realized how much I missed my Mr. and how urgently I wanted to see him. The next time I visit South America I insist he must be with me, because the loveliest cities are lovelier when shared with your lover. 

{On Friday night, a few friends and  I went and saw Jill Barber, who's songs are currently playing. She was amazing and funny and all kinds of cute so if you have a chance go see her.  She is touring Canada as we speak and comes highly recommended by moi}

PS I wasn't allowed to take photos at the tango so here's a few I picked out from the many out there in the abyss. 
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