We've made it almost half way through the year, and this imaginary piggy bank of mine is overflowing with pennies for my thoughts. These pages are filling up little by little with lists and details and sweet nothings. I have yet to make sense of all of them, but we're making progress.
Lately, change has been the focal point of everything going on around us. Times are changing, the weather is changing, our little family is changing (growing as a matter of fact). It's all grand and awesome, but I'm a teenager - and what's suppose to be grand and awesome tends to turn me into an Eeyore. And I'm as backwards lately as backwards gets.
I've been sleeping on top of my comforter for the past week and I'm more prone to dripping water down my shirt these days, than I have been all my life. Combined.
If there was a compete-able gulp and drip contest I'd beat you in a landslide.
Do ya get the picture?
Either way... I was in the middle of writing this post and decided to check in on Shannon Martin, the Flower Patch Farmgirl - and you'll never guess what she's doing. Being awesome and totally on top of things, that's what. She drew me in and my jaw dropped at this is for all of you with your toes gripping the edge of change, moments from tipping.
That's me.
She slapped my face a few times, mainly with the fact that she never has any drafts cluttering around her posts page. Me, I have a whole post's page DEVOTED TO DRAFTS.
She redeemed herself by mentioning that drafts are drafts. Unfinished masterpieces that drop right off the cliff at the end, without the pink bow and the signature at the bottom. And that's okay.
She's good at being open and honest, even when her honest-heart isn't the prettiest of them. I'd say I tend to do the same, whether I like it or not. You get what you get, when it comes to me. And what you get is usually a lot, and it doesn't come in increments or spurts. It just comes. Flows freely.
Like a pomegranate. That's me.
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