Snapshot Crapshot

I take about a bazillion photos a day with my phone. Pictures of my kids, my pets, things I find funny, videos, screenshots, you name it. And since I hardly ever delete any of them, there's quite a random hodgepodge of stuff. (Although admittedly less since I've stopped letting my kids play with my iPhone.)

I don't know if it's because I'm a blogger or if, like, everyone including tax attorneys and dental hygienists do it. Blame it on the age of Instagram (PS - we should totally be co-followers on Instagram so click here). I'm always snapping a picture, and you could easily tell a lot about my life by looking at my camera roll.

Like the fact that my kitten Vanessa (yes, I got a new kitten. I'll formally introduce her soon) likes to climb on my shoulders.

... and the fact that my forehead wrinkles make me look like a Shar-Pei.

Or that I have some pretty interesting text conversations with my brother Steve.

FYI, he's the one who says he needs gloves when he wipes ... not me.

Or that I find Legos literally EVERYWHERE.

Or that I document everything, even my husband's borderline-obsessive hoarding of empty deodorant containers.

Seven containers. One drawer. All empty. WTF?

And that sometimes, I take pictures I don't even mean to take.

But despite the excessive collection of moments in my camera roll - even the insignificant - I'll keep on snapping away. Because I never know when I'm going to capture the next great shot. Like this one ...

Well. Whatever.