Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Someone’s phone will not stop ringing.
I picked the curling iron up by the BUSINESS end this morning and have at least 7th degree burns all over my hand.
I have an injury from Tucson that is so painful, I actually have to think about whether I’m willing to risk the pain involved with movement as minimal as blinking.
Did I mention that someone’s DAMN PHONE WILL NOT STOP RINGING?
On the bright side, my secret pal left me the most interesting lavender ceramic clock with a large skinny chicken on it that appears to be detoxing from a bad night of bourbon and jazz. Inexplicable but groovy.
Here’s a few pics from the trip:
Pool side at Grandma’s:
Mom and Kory at Pinnacle Peak:
Me & Peter walking down the canyon:
Pima Air Museum and storage facility