Ok. Let’s talk about staying clean in alkaline dust, not sand, on a 95-100 degree desert. Talk. That is all it is. There is no real hygiene. Let it go. Let it go. Let it go!

“What are the things you worry about the most?” asks Gage of his favorite mother-in-law and girlfriend. “Heat, and the fact we love two showers a day.” Settled. Swamp cooler installed, since his resurrected A/C unit failed, a case of baby wipes, antiseptic wipes, and boogie wipes and VOILA! a shower in our camp!

The miracle of a shower cannot be underestimated. If I was stranded on a desert island, God forbid it was a huge island far away from water. I would crawl to it. Baby wipes are awesome, but some bits and pieces just need a little more:)

Grab your towel, get to the public camp shower without losing it. (Some cared not.) Hop in and spray yourself with a spray nozzle resembling a pest control sprayer, before dousing yourself with Bronners. Peppermint! OmG someone tell me why my hoo-hoo is on fire! (Sorry for details:) Where is my organic hemp Castile soap???? I screamed. I hopped around. I survived. I learned.

The porta-potties are evil. One young campmate decorated the potty on the left with flowers, tropical murals, and anything sweet-smelling and put caution tape on the door, hoping most would avoid like the porta-plague. It was our special place, but we still came armed with extra toilet paper and in my case–purse-size Lysol. I will never ever ever ever love a portable toilet.

The smartest thing we ordered from Amazon was our “She-pee”, as we affectionately called our amazing in-house portable toilet. Number one great find! Women do not want to stagger two blocks in the middle of the night to pee, and it’s not like we had a forest with trees to pee behind. We bow before our goddess of peeing throne for its usefulness. Bless the inventor.