Remember Me?

Once you've been the target/victim of one of my pranks, you won't soon forget me.  I have a blessing and a curse:  my brain.   It doesn't shut off.  That hamster is always running the wheel full steam.  On average, I get anywhere between 3-5 hours of sleep per night due to this adorable rodent.  That's a lot of thinking time during those waking hours.  All I need is an idea and it morphs from there. Generally, for me, a subtle and tame idea moves to completely going off the tracks in a relatively short period of time. April Fool's Day landing on a Sunday AND Easter no less was God's way of playing an April Fool's joke on me.  BUT, I didn't let that damper my resolve to make this day work to serve as my entertainment...at the expense of someone else. Protests are all the rage right now.  At work, we thought we could throw together some posters and do a mock work protest, take some photos, send it to the boss man on April 1st and call it good. Then my mind went to going a little off track and doing a video of interviews of why it's so difficult to work there.  Then, going completely off the tracks, it turned into a horror movie trailer:

The sad thing?  He acted those tyrant roles out for me without knowing why I was asking him to do it.  That's trust folks, and says a lot about the kind of human being I am.  .   I posted this to our business page this morning letting over 1,000 followers believe we are having a Patient Appreciation Movie Night and this year's movie had been chosen, 'Nightmares On Young Street.'  Oh yeah,  there is no movie, and there is no Patient Appreciation movie night.  😏 That may come back to bite me. What the general public doesn't know is there is a SECOND video.  This was the uncut interview version, set to a Special News Investigative Report.  This was the one we threatened would go live and viral if he didn't agree to bring us Dutch Bros. this week.  It went over rather well:

Sorry, you will not be seeing the second video if I want to keep my job.  But just know it was EPIC...and in safe keeping.  I'm starting bids at $2,500.   Happy April Fools!

2 Heroes and a Ziplock Bag

As I reflect on my life, I've found any interesting stories I have to tell are either: A.  Run-ins with celebrities. B.  Disgusting experiences that strip me of any class or dignity. C.  Self humiliation. We are going with category B tonight.  As full disclosure; men, this deals with womanly issues so be smart and stop now.  It's not nearly as bad as the Coachella story, but it still took my dignity nonetheless.  If you missed the Coachella fiasco, read it here. Last weekend while traveling back to Arizona from California, nature began to call.  I had passed Indio and was about 50 miles from Blythe.  There was one rugged gas station I had the opportunity to stop at, but figured I could easily hold it for another 40 minutes.    Then, the horrible sight of traffic build up appeared ahead.  Ugh!  Always construction!! But it wasn't construction.  We came to a dead stop.  After 20 minutes of idling, I finally turned off my car.  As I watched other drivers get out of their cars to mix and mingle and solve whatever problems were ahead, I decided to take the break and try to enjoy the most of it.   Sadly, I was bored after 10 minutes.  I started putting out the text to friends:  "Get on a computer and find me an access road out of here."   Seriously, super impressed with my friends as they carried themselves like Houston Space Center, as well as the Find Friends app as they located my exact location and proceeded from there.  Unfortunately it didn't get me far.  The consensus was in, I was in the worst location possible. I was literally stuck.   1 hour in.  My bladder is beginning to knock to get my attention.  Plan A:  What is it we say to those who have to 'go?'  "Think of a dry, hot desert."  Duh, Jen, open your eyes and look around.  Concentrate!   I had desert, sand, sun, death all around me.  I'm here to tell you, that theory sucks and doesn't work.   Plan B:  Use a bush.  Have any of you been in the desert?  This is the biggest and best bush you're going to find on that route:

I might as well just squat in the middle of the road.

Now, what I didn't post on social media was that urinating was only half of my issue.  The other issue was it was the second day of my period.  Women, you know what that equates to, right?  I was on the verge of needing a blood transfusion.  Again, using a glorified tumbleweed wasn't discreet enough for the events that needed to transpire.  

Plan C:  Use my 4 door car as a shield as I squat between the front and back door.  Good call. Unfortunately, I was in the left lane.  Cars going west bound still had access to the eye candy and  again, I would've left what looked like road kill on the road.  Plan C, out.

Plan D:  Relying on human kindness.  This would consist of me begging someone to use their RV or motor home bathroom.   As I looked around at my options, I wasn't too optimistic.  Either the RV's were shady and/or their owners appeared to be.

Plan E:  My friend offered me some Red Vines for my drive back.  I denied her twice, yet she insisted and threw them in a Ziplock bag.  That Ziplock was the only thing I could possibly use as a makeshift toilet.  Problem, I had a very curious semi truck driver in the right lane next to me that had been endlessly looking in at me and making creepy eye contact.  Not gonna happen, buddy.  

2 hours in.  I don't know anything else in my body exists besides my bladder.  3 cars ahead of me, a  man has opened his trunk and is serving hard liquor from the bottle.  4 cars decide to go rogue and attempt to drive off the road in search of the side access road (that thanks to my friends I knew only lead to a dead end reservoir); one of the cars gets stuck in sand.  2 cars behind me a woman is arguing with her husband, kids crying in the backseat.  Because of them, I decide to check my rear view mirror more closely.  A few hundred yards back, it's as if the heaven's opened:

She was like an angel, sent just for me. All I needed to do was meet her owners, become BFF's with them in a 5 minute time frame, and plead for their kindness as I reassure them this experience will bond us forever.  I stuck some money in my pocket just in case they already had best friends and I could offer a wad of cash instead.   I abandoned my car and made the journey while reciting in my head the many different ways the conversation could go and what my approach would be. My luck, 2 men in their late 50's early 60's.  Typically the best age I relate with.  They tend to think I'm funny and cute and feel pity for me and I look to them as a father figure so I'm naturally comfortable and needy.    "Hey guys, you selling tickets for the use of your bathroom yet?"    "Sorry, hon, wish we could. We aren't the owners, we are just paid to transport the thing.  With it being a $400,000 vehicle WE can't even use the bathroom." UGH!!! None of my scenarios went like this. Back to Plan A.   Dang it!  Still not working!! "We've seen some ladies go out to the desert." "Yeah, where??? There's absolutely no discretion." "One will usually hold a blanket up for the other." "Hmm, I have a sunscreen in my car."  (Sounding pathetic, intentionally). "We have a blanket in here you could use, just have one of your friends hold it for you." (Not only sounding pathetic, but also trying to lay on the pathetic look).  "Yeah, I could probably find someone to hold it for me." "Wait, are you all by yourself??" Quivering lip, and nod of the head. (Now the conversation turns between the two of them). "We could probably let her use it, right?" "I won't tell if you don't." "We have no power, and it's not hooked up." "If we had some water, we could dilute it and manually flush it." "GUYS!! I have a water bottle in my car I could go get!!!" "OK, she can use it, but she can't tell a soul." I make the gesture of a zipped lip as I walk back to the car to grab my water.    While I'm celebrating the fact I'll be relieved, I'm also freaking out about the tampon situation.  I can't leave that in there if they are going to have to get in there and do something manually.  They are going above and beyond to help me out, the last thing I want to do is leave them parts of my uterus to dispose of.   As I grab my water bottle, I see Red Vine's poking their heads out of my purse as if to say, "Hey, remember us?!?"  I've hit full delusion at this point. The licorice was talking to me. I dump them out in my purse, grab the Ziplock and shove it down my pants.    The guys (my heroes) also managed to dig up some fast food napkins for me to use as toilet paper.  It was probably one of the best and stressful pees I've ever had.  You have to have the speed of a pit crew to pee quickly without letting a drop of blood land in the water.    After a successful transaction, I was left with a Ziplock bag full of a murder scene.  Now what?  Where am I going to put this?  Before you go thinking I stashed it in the motor home, come on, people!  Give me more credit.  These men were my heroes, the last thing I was going to do was something that could jeopardize their employment.  I just needed to get the bag to my car where I could throw it in the trunk until a proper place to dispose of it.  So, I shoved it in the waist of my pants, in all it's warmth and glory.  Before I leave, I take a good look around the nicest bathroom I've ever been in on the 10 Freeway, look at myself in the mirror, and pat myself on the back that I lived to survive another day. 2 and a half hours in.  I still haven't made it back to my car.  The men are STILL talking to me.  One is a retired cop and at least knows the details of why we're stopped...police chase turned police shootout just a mile up the road.  I can't concentrate on a conversation. I'm trying to strategically hold the bag with my body so it doesn't slide down or out.   3 hours in.  Police helicopters overhead announce traffic will be moving again. I proceed to give the men a hug before I rush back to my car.  Meanwhile,  unaware that my shirt had been caught up in a portion of my pants,  exposing the Ziplock bag all along.    Morale of the story:  Just stop in Indio and use the restroom, use problem solving skills--preferably before going on a trip by yourself, stranger danger doesn't exist in these situations, Ziplock bags save lives, and always and forever, human kindness exists.

Finally, Color!

When we moved in the house years ago, the thought of painting the entire thing exhausted me before I even packed one box.  I admit, I got lazy and did the unimaginable for me--I paid someone else to come in and paint every square inch...walls, baseboards, doors, closets.  I wanted it fresh and neutral because I wasn't sure how I was planning to design my home.  As you can tell, I didn't do anything real exciting for color with my furniture either.  Hence, the pictures below: drab, boring, and total snoozers.  

I did reupholster those floral dining room chairs though...those bad boys were my first reupholster job and took me an entire summer. Alas, the dining room is my next project. Now, I'm normally not one to paint my walls a dark color, but I really wanted some contrast and pop.  And for whatever reason, my iPhone picture quality stinks and everything is super grainy, buy you get the idea of the 'after':

I wanted a tufted couch, and I knew I wanted another brown (don't ask me why) but one with a gold/copper tint to contrast with a royal color.  The problem with most tufted couches, other than the cost, is the low back, I had yet to find an actual comfortable one, and the feeling that you're a giant sitting on dollhouse furniture. Your head ends up resting against a wall, your butt nearly goes to the edge and looks and feels like the most uncomfortable thing.  I had been looking for the perfect set for over a year and had almost given up.  Then, one day, I walked into Pruitts into their last showcase floor room.  Rays of light shone and I swear I heard a choir singing.  Almost as if in my head, I found exactly what I'd been imagining.  The only drawback are these things are HUGE. (Said in my Donald Trump voice).  Jason looks like he climbed the beanstalk and appears to be an 8 year old while sitting in them.  

I went with smaller modern style tables from Ross and geometric pieces from Hobby Lobby; had I gone with anything bigger no one would be able to walk in the room.  I had decided to go with a royal blue due to the copper and golds.  At first I was looking at big area rugs, but once those couches were in the room, it felt like everything needed to be smaller.  Again, the picture doesn't do it justice, but this is a glittered shag I bought from the At Home store.  Background story:  The only one left was one they just opened to display- which the manager was using to set up a Christmas display.  I told her I wanted it and that I hoped it wouldn't be too much of a problem.  Her response:  "Yes, it's a problem."  Me: "Sooo, this means I can't purchase it?"  Her:  "Well, yes, you can purchase it, but it's still a problem and hassle for me."  Who does that?!  I'm not sure if I ruined her grand plan for the display of the year award, but if someone is willing to pump money into your store, you just deal with it.  I only mention this because this has been a frequent occurrence for me here.  Great, low prices, but you pay in having crappy customer service.

Also got the gold sun mirror at At Home, but am still debating putting a piece of art there or possibly trying to find a bigger mirror.  Notice my Valentine holiday tree in the background?? :)

My mom and I love going to antique stores.  The quality is sound and we find some really amazing pieces.  One of which was these pair of seriously outdated wall sconces.  I loved how big they were (to compete with the King Kong couches), and the fact that I don't have any wall sconces instantly made me covet them.  Problem, since it was an antique mall, the Brass Armadillo, hence no refunds.  I had to make sure I could do something with these hideous retros before I spent Jason's hard earned cash.  I went back 3 times within a couple months stalking them.  I took Jason to get his opinion and the look on his face made me second guess myself, or possibly be more determined.  The copper night lights and brass fixtures were perfect, but those shades and wood handles were the issue.

I refinished the wood and painted them gold, and got these fabulous lamp shades at Lamps Plus.

I'm still on the hunt for some bigger sized pillows to go with the blue and gold pillows and will remove the animal print ones...so if you have any ideas, let me know!

If You Are Cringing At My Christmas Post, Then I Wrote It For You

You probably saw this floating around Facebook recently and chuckled to yourself as I did because we all know that one person or department store(s) that comes to mind, right??  I think I even 'liked' this picture on several of your pages. We aren't even halfway through October and the aisles are already being set up for Christmas. The mummy's haven't been able to gather dust yet! Therefore, I am writing a post on Christmas, because I decided...I was wrong.  What I learned this week is two negatives DO make a positive.  I was irritated about the Christmas decor and memes coming out so soon, and then I realized yesterday I was also irritated subconsciously that apparently we don't do it enough. Confused yet?  Welcome to my poor husband's life. Read on... Every Monday we do family night where a member of our family prepares a spiritual lesson to share with the rest of the family or we all study a lesson and share what we each got out of it.  Last night, Nathan was in charge and decided to show us a short Christmas video.  Immediately, I was slightly annoyed because I thought he went for the easy out by picking a Christmas video...that he didn't take the time to research something else.    The video was about giving gifts to the Savior, rather than receiving gifts or buying gifts for others.  Immediately after Nathan says, "Okay, Mom, what did you learn from that?" I hesitated for a minute  because I knew he wasn't going to like what I had to say since the video irritated me as I watched it more than it got me into the Christmas spirit.  I was irritated because it was based around Christmas. After understanding the message of it, I questioned why couldn't this have been done around Valentine's Day, a Birthday, or even an Anniversary for that matter.  The same message applies.  Why do we only associate when we should be giving something of ourselves to Jesus Christ only at Christmastime? I saw the stunned and worried look on his face that his fantastic lesson idea may have backfired, so I went on to explain... Christmas is generally a magical time of year and I don't believe it is due to the decor, the holiday sales, Santa Clause or the gifts.  Symbolically, these things can lead our thoughts to why Christmas exists.  Think of how many individuals are singing and listening to Christmas carols during the month of December...they are singing and hearing testimony of Him.  Think of how many are volunteering at shelters, hospitals, nursing homes, or serving their neighbors and friends...they are serving as He would and being His hands to many in need.  Holiday shows and movies typically have messages of hope, love, and charity...messages He taught and continues to teach for our hearts to be touched so we can become better.  Christmastime is magical simply because of the light of Christ that is in the hearts, minds, and eyes of individuals.   People are generally happier, more hopeful, kinder, more giving as well as forgiving during Christmas.  So why should this be only a once a year occurrence?   If you know an individual who is full of joy and happiness and has a light about them, then you know, generally, these are individuals who demonstrate hope, love, kindness, charity, and forgiveness on a regular daily basis-regardless of the date.  Therefore, if you want to be happier and have more joy in your life then put these Christmas practices into action more consistently. The message Nathan shared was perfect, so perfect that I'm saddened so many feel or experience it only once a year.  So to all you early Christmas goers:  If decorating, listening to carols, and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas can give you reminders of where to find joy and happiness and likewise give you the desire to serve your fellowmen with kindness and charity---then by all means--decorate, sing, and watch because now more than ever, our world needs it.  I applaud you for seeking for it. I am grateful for Nathan and his childlike humbleness to bring a Christmas message at a random time of year and all children for that matter who do such a better job of consistently typifying of Christ than most adults.    

80/20 Vision

I've had to swallow my pride, put on my big girl pants and take my own advice this last week.  I hate when that happens.  I had to rely on my 80/20 vision.
I've come up with a theory.  Well, I thought I did until I just googled it to make sure.  It's called 80/20.  I thought I was a genius--come to find out there are other geniuses out there using similar theories, but are gearing it towards business and success and focusing on the "20".   My 80/20 is about life and happiness and focusing on the "80".
I love people and relationships.  A great passion in my life is getting past superficial conversations and truly getting to know someone.  I am amazed at times how asking one or two basic questions will leave me sitting back for half an hour learning about the life experiences of another human being.  I've learned so much from each individual and many times use their experiences to better shape mine. 
This is a big generalization and realize it isn't the same for each individual in every situation, but in my experience with these hundreds of conversations is the average ratio of satisfaction to dissatisfaction in our lives is 80/20. 

 Look, nothing and no one is perfect- and that's a good thing. The ones who smile and say everything is perfect are the ones I know aren't being completely honest with themselves.  If everything were perfect, we couldn't learn how to appreciate and be grateful. In every aspect of my own life I can apply this and maybe you can too. 

 Examples: *I'm generally satisfied with 80% of the way I am, but wish there was about 20% I could change. (Physically and Emotionally)
* I completely love 80% of my spouse, but there is 20% of him that drives me bonkers.
* I appreciate 80% of my home, but there are about 20% of projects I wish to commence immediately.
* 80%  enjoyment of my job,  20 % of the nonsense makes me want to quit.
* 80% absolutely love being a mother, but there are those definite 20% days where I ask, "What have I done, when does the craziness end?"
*Enjoy my pets 80% of the time, the other 20% is made up of shedding, grooming, and finding babysitters for vacations.
*Love living in the desert 80% of the time, 20% is like living in hell.
The list can go on and on, but what it boils down to me is:
*80% of joy and happiness, 20% of fear, pain, and loss.

The difference between individuals who were content and happy in life versus those who were less than satisfied or had made poor decisions rested on the principle of what number they chose to focus on- the 80 or the 20.
Many who were discontent were so focused in on the 20% they felt were lacking that they spent years searching for it, stayed awake at night thinking about it, and slowly blinded themselves from the 80% which was right in front of them until years later they may have found the 20, but in the process, lost the 80.
I've used this with my kids.  Brynna recently was talking about the things she was missing out on in life- driving being one of them.  I had to turn the focus on all the things she CAN do (80) and not focusing on what she can't (20).  It's truly amazing by focusing on the big 8-0, how blessed you suddenly realize you are and almost immediately her mood changed.
So this week my husband was playing old family videos where I saw my kids as babies and toddlers.  I walked around the house all depressed and lonely for a couple of days because I've realized how fast time has gone and how independent they are and barely need me---today, I had a voice in my head that said, "Think of the 80."    Within minutes a bounce in my step returned as I became suddenly aware that I've been given an opportunity to raise children- a blessing not given to all, and that I've only just experienced a snippet of their lives, so much more is yet to come. As I've put this to use in my life, not only does the 20 hold less weight when focused on the 80, but I've also learned to embrace it.  We need the opposite to appreciate, rejoice, and come to a knowledge of what good we have to celebrate.  We also need the 20 to re-evaluate and make steps towards progression where needed.  Again, it's okay to have the 20, but it's not okay to linger with it, go on vacations with it, or move in with it and let it mess with our heads and hearts.
So if you're struggling today, find your 80/20 vision.  Let it open your eyes to all that is good in your world, there is so much to be discovered and remembered.

Oh, The Weather Inside Is Frightful

Arizona summers, we have a love/hate relationship.  Growing up in the Midwest, I was accustomed to cold and am a disgrace now to my native state.  I love the heat. Typically if it's under 85 degrees I need a long sleeve shirt or I'm uncomfortable.  I love getting into our pool at night and it feeling more like a spa than a tall glass of cold water.  This week, the heat here is really going to hit.  And not that I particularly love the feeling of walking into what feels like a hot oven whenever I'm outside in the daytime- but it's ten times better than pumping gas in the blowing windy subzero temperatures. Am I right??

Beautiful? Dreadful?  Take your pick. But regardless, why am I then dressed like this??

Because my husband likes to save money and likes sticking it to APS.   33 solar panels covering the entire back roof and patio of our house apparently wasn't enough.  So while APS has their off-peak hours (7p.m. to Noon) he has the air conditioning down to 70 degrees.  Not that bad, you say? You're a wimp, Jen?  Coming in from 110 degrees to a 40 degree difference is like living in a meat freezer.  I swear if I look close enough, I can see my own breath.  Ok, not really.   During peak hours (Noon to 7 p.m.) we shut the air conditioning off completely- keep all the blinds shut- lights off- live in dungeon like vampire darkness until slowly throughout the day I begin to thaw until off-peak hours--when I get put back in the freezer.  Sadly, this process works and has saved us a decent amount of money.  It's approximately 3:30 p.m. and the temperature in here is 76 degrees. I can finally move my fingers to type.   So, my fellow Arizonan's- I thought I'd share this tip since it was graciously shared with us. Grab your coat, mittens, and hot chocolate and ride the Arizona summer out in goosebumps.  Stay warm my friends.

Hands Down, This Day Was Crappier than Yours

Chances are, if you know somebody, they at one time dropped their cell phone in the toilet.  If not, then you ARE that somebody.  It happens. Does anyone not take in a device in the bathroom these days?  We've forgotten how to just sit and think on the throne.  And so what if it drops in??  Not only will a cup of rice cure our woes, but the phone got washed in water at the same time.

I'm about to tell you a true story.  This story is tragic, horrific, and filthy.  If I could rate it, it would definitely be mature, R, or possibly worse.  It should come with its own advisory:  You may want to save this story to read late at night when the kids are asleep so you won't have to console their cries.  You don't want to be eating and reading for fear of choking/vomiting or both.  You might want to read in a closet for if the neighbors hear your screams they may call the police. Proceed at your own risk.

As ugly and shocking as this story is above, it would've been heavenly compared to our story, but true to Tanner tales, it couldn't have been a clean toilet, nor a private toilet, or even just one toilet.   We were at Coachella music festival this past weekend where over 200,000 tickets are sold.  If anyone has ever been to music festivals, then this is a familiar sight:

Porta potties.  Imagine all those people sharing all those restrooms and I think you can see where I'm headed. Brynna and I went to the restrooms and I had to wait an unusual lengthy time for her.  She finally walked up to where I was but had this complete distressed look on her face.  I figured it was the 'oh crap, I need a tampon' look.  Unfortunately, my stomach cringed as she told me she lost her phone in the depths of the porta potty.  I half wanted to point and laugh at her hysterically and half wanted to instantly throw my hands around her neck and shake. This is where the story COULD have ended.  We could have let it be a prisoner to plastic potty god, but no, I am too cheap and I will not lose to a toilet.  Even completely damaged, we could still sell her phone for over $200- or pay a smaller than new phone fee for an exchange at Apple.  (No, of course we don't have Apple care.) I told Brynna, "We can't leave, you have to go get it!"  Her look was how I felt as we went back to the restrooms.   As we walked up, a horrible reality presented itself.  Because she had been in so much distress when it happened, Brynna had forgotten which porta potty she had been in.   Remember on the movie Poltergeist when the mom went upstairs to save her children and as she stared down the hallway it got longer and longer and seemed like a mile?  That was how the image was to me.  Truly, it was an endless row like this:

We had it narrowed down to 5. We had to continually keep people from going in and using them; each one gave us the 'better you than me" look.   As I looked down the hole of each one, it was a dark blue abyss with only who knows what crawling around in there...and I was going to have to put my hand in there.  I already hate lakes.  I hate the fact that fish can brush up against me and I can't see them. This was the lake taken to the extreme. Now before any of you say I don't have it in me- there was a time when Brynna had to wear a $250 contact in her eye.  Once we were at a restaurant, she was 6 months old, and it was bothering her, so I took it out and placed it in a cup of water.  I left the restaurant and didn't remember until later that afternoon that I left the cup.  So what did I do?  I crawled in the dumpster in the back of the restaurant and went through bags and bags of trash until I found it, which I did.  Heck, if I could find a clear contact in a dumpster full of trash, an iPhone in tampons, used toilet paper, feces, and urine wasn't going to be more challenging- just way more disgusting.  I found a maintenance worker and asked if they had extra trash can liners.  My critical thinking plan was to put my hand in the bag and use it as a ginormous glove and just blindly feel around until I found it.   Now, I've never wanted to kiss a big black woman before, but as she got on her radio and called for reinforcements and a staff of 5 people to come rummage through people's waste for me- I wanted to kiss her and leave her whatever inheritance I have.     Some went through with the handles of mops- some used the trash liner methods, and by the 5th porta potty, it was found.  Those poor people earned every cent of their minimum wage that weekend on this experience alone.  I feel so sorry for them, yet so grateful at the same time.  They went far beyond the call of duty for something I was willing to do on my own.  Coachella staff rocks. The phone was nasty, I'm not going to lie but I'll spare you the details.  We were all handling the phone like evidence from a crime scene.  Carefully carrying it with our plastic trash can liners over to the sink to give it a thorough rinse, soap and disinfecting job.  Since it had already been sitting in blue sanitation water (among other things) for over 10 minutes- I knew trying to sanitize the heck out of it wasn't going to harm it more than had already been done.  We stored it away and tried not to let it ruin our weekend and let it go to crap. (I have plenty more puns where that came from). We put it in rice when we came home.  We knew chances were slim to none, but were shocked when 2 days later it turned on and was functioning.  Now, mind you, it has a permanent blue background screen from the blue water, but amazingly is working.  Unfortunately, Brynna doesn't want to keep her limited edition Coachella Porta Potty screen saver, so we are ordering a new screen which Jason will replace and this will one day just be a distant, gross, dumpster/porta potty diving memory which I may or may not need therapy for. So next time yours ends up taking a dive in your own urine, take comfort in knowing you can identify who's DNA is on your phone. 

Senior Pictures...Sweet and Sassy

She's a little bit country... and a lot more rock and roll.  More photos to come when the wheat turns white, it was a mud bath out there.  Props to Quinn Kellis for hitting the road at 5:30 a.m. and taking some great photos and outtakes.  

I know, I have to take a double take every time.  She was adjusting her glasses, not flipping you off.