Processed with VSCO with a4 preset I feel it. I love it.

The forever designing thoughts that go swirling around in my head, enveloping my thoughts about everything I see, every decision I make; They finally have a place to go.

Something bigger to focus on.

And I am so happy!

I can design and create and share and love!

Instead of picking apart and redesigning everything around me I can focus. And do I ever! I dream and cut and glue and sew and photograph and photoshop and create web sites and on and on.

And my crazy design obsessed brain has never been happier. Truly.



see you there

xoxo/ Karissa


It’s Picture time!

Hi! I want to post somewhere for all to see my current cost of photography!

Senior, baby, family, engagement – 120 per session. 

-I take the pictures and edit, send them to you over the internet or give you a Zip drive whichever your technical savvy heart desires. I then will have you choose the picture(s) you would like professional prints of and I will order the sizes you would like, the prints company will give me special pricing which I will extend to you! 

Weddings  200 

– includes taking pictures of bride/groom, bridal party, extended family, and of the reception area before wedding. 

– I will put all of these precious memories onto a Zip drive or send them over the internet, again whichever your technical heart desires. You will have all 500-1000 pictures to print at your own connvenience! 
You can call or text me any time at 360-852-2356

xoxo, karissa 


Its like I don’t even realize what I’m missing until he’s there.

Well, I take that back.

I realize that I’m missing someone to help with the boys, the chores, the errands. 

Someone to take out the garbage and mow the lawn (well, in theory. Ours is barely sprouting from seed).

But until he’s next to me, listening to me, wrapping his arms around me, telling me I am the most beautiful person in the world ( I’m pretty sure him and I both would agree this last one is for his eyes only, but then again he won’t admit it.)

After several nights of having two small bodies to keep watch over alone and rock to sleep by myself. To lay in bed and have no one to tell my thoughts and dreams and ideas too. 

When he finally is home. To be with me. To listen to me. To comfort me. To help me. 

To do this family thing together.

That’s when I realize what I’m missing when he’s not there. And it makes me cherish every minute of him. And his help. And his true abundant love. 

I hope you’re just as lucky. And if not now, you will be. Just open your eyes and wait. 


We boarded a plane, lived with a group of people for 10 hours, landed, boarded another plane, landed, rented a car, loaded the kids and luggage and strollers and car seats up and we were there. 

In my memories. 

Driving the roads by memory, the sweeping fields the small one lanes, the dotted red and yellow houses, the old school house. 

And yet it wasn’t a memory. It was all still there. Just like it was last time I revisited the memory.

And just as quaint, as beautiful, as peaceful. 

Minus the screeching toddlers in the back seat and the roaring of wee sings. 

We pulled down the familiar gravel driveway that we hundreds of times ran down to catch the city bus that would take us to the small school house.

I rolled down the window and watched the forest, that we would pick wild berries and mushrooms, pass by. I breathed in the familiar smell of the blossoming cherry blossoms. 

And we finally stopped short of the old house and pull into a new driveway, one that was not here in our childhood days, a new crisp red pure Swedish house.

My sister came bounding down the steps with huge welcoming hugs. 

We were there. No longer in my dreams but really there! 


People and cities and shopping and eating and child care taking and meetings and food and candy and coffee and fika.

We were there. 

For 3 weeks! 

In a country I love, speaking a language I treasure, gathering with friends I admire. 

It was amazing. 

If only it wasn’t an ocean between us! If only it didn’t take two days of jet lag plus 15 hours of air travel (x 2) !

If only it didn’t have a price tag. 

And then again, coming home, back to another country I love and the people I love and the family and things and food and stores and roads and well just about everything I love. 


So from amazing to amazing. 

I am so lucky! 

Sweet secrets

It’s not just open the cupboard grab a peanut butter cup and eat it anymore.


That was years ago!

Well like 2 years ago.

Now it’s nonchalantly slip the cupboard open-magically snatch the peanut butter cup-tuck it in bra strap-meander back to coffee cup / book / couch – slip the chocolate into the face hole ever so silently and savor the sweetness, unknowing to the young child that resides nearby. Or not nearby. But has ears of a dog and eyes of an eagle. 

It’s actually quite a game! It’s exhilarating! My adrenaline gets pumping! And as soon as I conquer one piece I’m onto the next. It’s totally addicting. Not just the sugar, but the means to get that sugar! 

I have inward triumph. 

I feel mighty. A warrior. A secret agent. A top secrets defender of some sort. Plain ol’ smart. 

Because I out smarted my 3 year old. 

And then as soon as I am soaring in confidence, 

I get smacked in the face.

Caught red handed. 

“How did you know!!??” 

And then, 

the begs and pleads. 

Maybe I ought to not even start. But it’s exhilarating. So I do it again.

Hint: once in a while it works to tell them that it’s broccoli. And they make this wrinkled squishy face where snot gets smacked between upper lip and nostrils and you say “do you want some” and they run away so fast and you can eat your sweet savors in peace. Maybe. Hopefully! 


What happens is everything. At once! 

It’s not that I’m busy. I’m not. For instance at this moment I just finished my second americano of the day and am sitting on the couch writing blabbles. The truth is though, that I should be busy. 


That’s what makes me busy. Is that I’m actually pretty un-busy (Is that any different then being lazy??!)

Because in my head, like in my brain somewhere, I think I should be doing this and this and this! And instead I’m doing not that and not that. And making myself another coffee. 

So when you ask me what I’ve been up to first I 


Because I want to tell you I’m busy because I have this and this and this though I’m not doing that and that and that. 

Then I think…

Should I tell you what I should be up to? Or should I tell you I do a lot of

Not doing. 

And so then, because I like to not do

Everything seems to need to be done all at once and I get in a flurry because

The house is messy the dinner needs made companies coming prescriptions need picked up we need groceries I need to go to the gym I need to do yoga I need to fix the hole on your shirt I need to find my wallet to pay the bill that is in this purse somewhere that needs cleaned out and oh I just burned your grilled cheese because I thought I could multi task and remind me to NEVER put good multi tasker on a resume EVER again!! And I may be yelling and screaming and ordering and crying at this point!

And so the complete truth is everything happens all at once

But it’s because all the other times nothing’s happening. 

I aspire to do. As soon as I put down my phone. And finish my coffee. Aaaaand…………………………………….


What good is a worry box if it’s always full?

It’s not just full. It’s overflowing. It invades my other boxes. It keeps me up at night. It invades the box meant for thinking of others.

Because it’s full of thinking of others who aren’t thinking of others (With me here?).

I worry about dear ones who aren’t doing so well. I see how they are limping. I worry for their future, for their eternity.

And the miserable part is no matter how much I talk and remind quietly in love or in -not so quiet- pleads, I can’t change anything. I have my worry box stuffed full with things I can’t change. For people who don’t want me to help them.

And the thing I forget, the one thing I don’t remember.

Is thinking of the ones who are right beside me, guiding me.

Thinking of the ones who actually appreciate being thought of. Ones who help me. The ones who make striving that much easier day to day. Ones who are trying to walk this path in obedience, trying to set a good example.

I forget to thank them. To thank God.

Because my worry box has overflowed.

I ought to have a box labeled Faith instead of Worry; because it’s in that box, where those thoughts belong.

I need to pray. And have faith.

Because truly;

what good is a worry box if it’s always full?