Two watches, better than one?

I don’t wear watches. They get in the way when working with dough. Ironically, I have purchased two watches in the past week—a summer watch and a winter watch—to match the hues of my ever changing skin tones. We are in a small town, with the Alps pretty much everywhere. There are yellow sunflowers in the garden, spreading their golden petals as far as they will go. A few memories flash by, as vivd as the wall of grafitti behind the sunflower. Why is it wherever I travel in Europe in August there is alway a patch of sunflowers growing by a wall of grafitti? I try to peel myself away, but I am stuck like a second hand trying to move. I sense the surroud sounding noise, but I cannot hear it or feel its vibrations. The picture begins to fade out. Time is now forcing me to move with it—but only after I catalogue the memory away.

I had gone back and forth for the past ten years on what my first tattoo would be. I thought it would be a Longhorn, since I bleed burnt orange and OU sucks. But lately, I’ve made it my mission to love endlessly, since loving is the best thing I know. It is the one thing in my life that won’t stand still. I had tried to stop the future a few times, but the world just finds creative ways to remind me that I can’t. So, after summer, I will always be reminded to love endlessly and that I bleed orange. Why get one when two is always better than one—just like the wall of grafitti and rogue sunflower.