Babycakes

At Starbucks today I managed to spill some of my Salted Caramel Mocha on my blue jeans, on my grey sweater and in the split ends of my blonded hair without having noticed. I came home and saw the slightly obvious stain just under the collar of my blouse in the mirror then recognized the one on my jeans when I spilled beans just next to it. Why must I always spill? I did it at work the other day when I was sneakily consuming my Whiskey River BBQ Chicken Wrap in the bar closet – we’re not allowed to eat there. But my stealthy attempts were negated since I wore the evidence on my ugly, red polo. Seriously, I eat like an infant. Know what else I do like a babe? Cry. I have been crying so much lately. I don’t know if it’s because of my heightened emotional status that has come from events that have affected my heart or just because it’s I've been working a lot and the exhaustion that comes from sleepless weekends influences my tears. But I cry when things are beautiful, when things are painful, and just because. It’s kind of fun, I suppose. I always cried when I was young but after enduring much ridicule for excessive sensitivity I trained my soul and my eyes to be dry and settled there for years. God’s grown me into a healthier place and I do think that tears are a beautiful expression of emotional experiences. But let’s tone it down in there, Heart of Mine.