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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUCQnc5eyp7ImA9WhZQFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:11:03.923-05:00</updated><category term="weigh" /><category term="Noah" /><category term="disaster" /><category term="flood" /><category term="support" /><category term="bible" /><category term="news" /><category term="weight loss" /><category term="God" /><category term="weight watchers" /><category term="iowa" /><category term="weight management" /><category term="Savior" /><category term="meetings" /><category term="2008 flood" /><category term="war" /><category term="Lord" /><category term="cedar rapids" /><title>A Day in the Life of a Neurotic, Over-Amp'd, Mid-Western Mom</title><subtitle type="html">A blog about the daily life of a nearly middle-aged, full time working mother of 2, and her day to day experiences with her job, kids, spouse, pets, and never ceasing banter about all of the above.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>84</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ADayInTheLifeOfANeuroticOver-ampdMid-westernMom" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="adayinthelifeofaneuroticover-ampdmid-westernmom" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIGQn4_cCp7ImA9WxVQGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-5639690142256989289</id><published>2009-02-04T21:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T22:35:23.048-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-04T22:35:23.048-06:00</app:edited><title>Circumstances WITHIN my control...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SYpsXO_D6cI/AAAAAAAAAzo/0PwHGBSRntE/s1600-h/mother+and+child2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299167057970194882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 89px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SYpsXO_D6cI/AAAAAAAAAzo/0PwHGBSRntE/s400/mother+and+child2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"There isn't anything I can do about it." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That statement makes me crazy. When I hear it from another person I want to say to them, "...and why not?" Throwing up one's hands and admitting defeat is no way to go through life. I should know...I used to do it all the time. Case in point -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tyler is 15 now. He is getting taller, has lost all that little boy essence, his voice has deepened and he is obsessed with girls. He is also really getting into bending the rules, challenging authority, and pushing every limit he can to the brink of disaster. Looking over the last few months, I feel as though I have only myself to blame. I am not indulging in self-pity, merely citing a possibility. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When Tyler breaks a rule, challenges my authority, or pushes all the right buttons to get me to react, I flip out. I ground him "forever," take away his cell phone, tell him he will have no social life till he gets his act together. What actually happens in reality is that when I "flip out" I am venting my anger. I am doing it in a non-productive way. I am focusing all of the energy that my anger is creating - outward - toward something. When I do this, any punishment that I hand down is going to be completely ineffective. Ultimately, a day later, Tyler gets his phone and his social life back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;UNTIL NOW.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Let me precede this with, I love my son. Truly. No mother could love their child more than I love that boy. Love aside, there are times when I really do not like him very much. This is one of those times. Tyler, engaging in risk-taking behavior(s) is what has me on edge. I will save the list of offenses for now. At first, I was livid...pacing back and forth, reminding him how much he has to gain from making sure that he gets his education, goes on to college, and how participating in these activities are only going to undermine his goals. The lecture escalates to him countering each of my sentences with a sarcastic remark, clearly mocking my intent. An hour after the initial squall begins, the eye of the storm passes over, and it gets very quiet, even serene . He is now contemplating his fate should he continue on the attack. He thinks about the things I have said, taking them to heart, and feeling horribly racked with guilt. He cries; big crocodile tears. Seeing him so remorseful tugs at my heart strings, tears come to my eyes, and I ....CAVE like a 40 ft. sinkhole in the middle of rush hour traffic! Actually....this time it didn't go that way. I decided to take another tack. I will stand my ground. I will not flinch. I will not let him play the victim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He knew he was in trouble. In fact, the first thing he did before he even said hello to me was to hand me his cell phone - his demonstration of waving the white flag of surrender. He believes that if he owns up to it, I'll see him as honest, and trustworthy, and give him another chance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Not this time. The plan for this latest event is ---silence. That's right. No yelling. No crying. No lecturing. NO CAVING. His phone is still in my pocket. Earlier tonight he wanted to go to a friend's house to hang out. I said, "No." He asked, "Why?" I told him that he shouldn't need to ask why and proceeded to ask him about his day. I was the picture of calm...and I think it scared him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Don't get me wrong, I do NOT have all the answers when it comes to the discipline of a teenage boy. Far from it. I just know that what I was doing before wasn't working. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tyler is a handsome, intelligent, fiercely talented kid. He is well liked by his friends, and even has a girlfriend. I want his high school years to be years he can look back on and be proud of. I want him to grow into a mature, productive, human being. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Maybe someday, he will look back on the events of these last few weeks, and realize that his mom wasn't so lame after all. That maybe what I did had value. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That sometimes doing what you say you are going to do, and sticking with it, is a good way to earn respect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Or -- maybe he will laugh, give me a hug, and thank me for being so hard on him. Wouldn't that be nice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I do love Tyler. So much so, that sometimes punishing him truly does hurt me more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Setting limits for him are circumstances within my control. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There IS something I can do about it after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-5639690142256989289?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/5639690142256989289/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=5639690142256989289" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5639690142256989289?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5639690142256989289?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2009/02/circumstances-within-my-control.html" title="Circumstances WITHIN my control..." /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SYpsXO_D6cI/AAAAAAAAAzo/0PwHGBSRntE/s72-c/mother+and+child2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYFRXg6cSp7ImA9WxRaE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-2445263193757424263</id><published>2008-12-14T22:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T23:15:14.619-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-14T23:15:14.619-06:00</app:edited><title>Uncertainty</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUXnnjmtkmI/AAAAAAAAAy0/RyOHvYHlE0Q/s1600-h/question+mark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279880804920300130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUXnnjmtkmI/AAAAAAAAAy0/RyOHvYHlE0Q/s400/question+mark.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The past is safe and certain, and yet it is gone. The future is filled with endless uncertainty, and yet it is also filled with limitless possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;Something will happen today that you didn't expect. It might be uncomfortable, it might be inconvenient, and it might even disrupt your life in a big way.&lt;br /&gt;And yet, how terribly bland and unbearably tedious life would be if nothing unexpected ever happened. Though uncertainty is a bit frightening, it also brings much richness to life.&lt;br /&gt;You are designed and equipped not only to deal with life's uncertainties, but to in fact transcend them. Out of a little uncertainty you can create a lot of positive value.&lt;br /&gt;If you attempt to hide from uncertainty, you'll also be hiding from the best things life has to offer. Instead, accept and embrace uncertainty, and know that you can make the best of whatever comes along. Today does not come with a guarantee. And because of that, you have the opportunity to make of it whatever you choose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;                                                         -Author Unknown-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We humans live way too much of our lives in the past; what we could have, should have or would have done. The if-onlys; why didn't Is; and the what-ifs linger in our minds constantly. Always, it seems, accompanied by regret. It sure seems like a waste of valuable time and brain cells, doesn't it? So then, why is so much time spent on yesterday? Wouldn't our time be much better served planning for the future, or better yet, living in the PRESENT?! With all of this energy spent on regretting the past, and worrying about the future, we forget to appreciate where we are in our lives! The fact that we have lived another day is another day that we don't deserve. It is another gift and it should be appreciated for the wonder it is. Those who know me will say, "Well, Cara, you should practice what you preach."&lt;br /&gt;I can go along with that. I am probably the worst offender. I know that my life would have turned out completely different if choices I had made early on had been different. However, it does me absolutely no good to dwell on the other choices I could have made. There is no need to consider how l might have been as a person, if past reasoning had been different than it is now. No, I need to focus on here - and now - because that is where I am. Yesterday is over. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today is all I have time for. During the day, minutes tick by, and with each one is a moment of uncertainty about what is coming next. I welcome those little surprises that each day brings to me, breaking up the monotony, reminding me that I'm alive, that I have feelings, and that I can still eat, see, hear, and breathe. I welcome the uncertainty of each new day for the new adventure that it will bring to my life. What new thing will I learn? What new person will I meet that will touch my life somehow? What new feeling will grow in my heart for someone or something I love? It is all so exciting that sometimes the anticipation makes it impossible for me to sit still! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If I am having a particularly horrid day, one that I want to get over with as quickly as possible, the day just seems to drag on, never-ending, and stuck. Those are the times that I have forgotten to appreciate the uncertainties around me. I've lost my focus; my drive. Those are the moments when it helps to remember that uncertainty keeps life interesting; keeps it fresh. It could be the worst day of my life. So what? &lt;em&gt;"Today does not come with a guarantee." &lt;/em&gt;Amen to that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have no idea what is going to happen tomorrow. I do know that once I finish this entry, I will shut off the computer, turn out the lights and go to sleep. I know that I will dream, but of what is uncertain to me. THAT is the adventure, my friends. Grasp uncertainty with both hands, hold on tight, and allow it to take you places you never dreamed off. You will be thrilled you did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-2445263193757424263?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/2445263193757424263/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=2445263193757424263" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/2445263193757424263?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/2445263193757424263?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/12/uncertainty.html" title="Uncertainty" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUXnnjmtkmI/AAAAAAAAAy0/RyOHvYHlE0Q/s72-c/question+mark.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIESHw6cCp7ImA9WxRbGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-7723886210226549159</id><published>2008-12-10T22:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T23:31:49.218-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-10T23:31:49.218-06:00</app:edited><title>Learn to Love</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUClI9UWhXI/AAAAAAAAAys/XCBb7-P-As8/s1600-h/love+pendant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278400336595682674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUClI9UWhXI/AAAAAAAAAys/XCBb7-P-As8/s400/love+pendant.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUCk-E4jhlI/AAAAAAAAAyk/cMvvbFm3l-A/s1600-h/cloud+heart2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;challenge&lt;/strong&gt;, and you'll fill your life with accomplishment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;effort&lt;/strong&gt;, and your skills will grow more valuable with each passing day.&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;making a difference&lt;/strong&gt;, and doors will quickly open for you wherever you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;giving freely of yourself&lt;/strong&gt;, and you'll receive more fulfillment than you ever could imagine.&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;being the authentic person you are&lt;/strong&gt;, and everything you do will be infused with integrity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love whatever&lt;strong&gt; work&lt;/strong&gt; you're doing, and that work will bring abundant rewards.&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;beauty&lt;/strong&gt; for beauty's sake, and you'll discover a wealth of it in places no one else would even think to look.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;unconditionally&lt;/strong&gt;, and there will be no limit to what your love can accomplish.&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love &lt;strong&gt;life &lt;/strong&gt;just because it is, and each day will be a grand new adventure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love the &lt;strong&gt;moment&lt;/strong&gt; you're in, and you'll find richness in every direction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;possibilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, and you'll make your way to whatever you seek.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Learn to love &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;no matter what&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, and you'll discover what a miracle you truly are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;                                                       ----Author Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;How do we really &lt;em&gt;learn&lt;/em&gt; to love? Don't we already have that mastered? Isn't the ability to love one of those innate capabilities that every human being is born with? Well, some would say so. Some would say that to love is to live. Some would say that love is actually one of the multitudes of emotions that all humans feel; that it is embedded in our DNA. Others, like me, would simply shrug and say, "I have no idea."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If love is a learned behavior, &lt;strong&gt;who&lt;/strong&gt; do we learn it from? Our parents? Our siblings? Our children? Our friends? From GOD? It is no wonder people get confused about the feelings they have for other people with all these different kinds of love flying around everywhere. I know that the possibilities make my head spin on a daily basis! I would love to have it explained to me. I would love to know why/how it happens - this feeling that can only be described as love. I would love to know &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;ow love can bring so much pleasure and yet cause so much pain?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I would love to know where the phrase "falling in love" came from. Why is it "falling?" Is it because when you experience it, it feels as though you are physically falling, like from a great height, out of control, with no clue as to when, if, or where you will land? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Must be, because that, to me, is a very familiar sensation. Only for me, instead of "falling," it should be "plummeting." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then to further complicate things, you can fall in love with your spouse, you can fall in love with your children (I did, the moment they were born), and you can fall in love with your friends (speaking of Platonic love, of course). All very different, very much the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I suppose I'm not really looking for answers. I can't imagine anyone out there has the answers to questions this complex. So, because of the depth of knowledge needed to explain away love, the ins; the outs; the whys; the hows; I will just have to leave it to God. When I meet Him someday, perhaps He will explain to me why the ones I love the most are the ones that cause me so much emotional anguish. Perhaps He will explain the reason for all the different kinds of love and how they can all be described the same. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Until that day comes, I will do my best to &lt;em&gt;learn to love &lt;/em&gt;in all the ways the author describes at the beginning of this entry - and more, I would imagine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, let me begin my education by saying...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;                                                            ...I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-7723886210226549159?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/7723886210226549159/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=7723886210226549159" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/7723886210226549159?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/7723886210226549159?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/12/learn-to-love.html" title="Learn to Love" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SUClI9UWhXI/AAAAAAAAAys/XCBb7-P-As8/s72-c/love+pendant.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkINR3g8fip7ImA9WxRbF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-4433964906060248436</id><published>2008-12-07T21:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T21:56:36.676-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-07T21:56:36.676-06:00</app:edited><title>You Thoughts Show</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/STyZV4Yb9eI/AAAAAAAAAyc/4ITU_9hyiIg/s1600-h/positivity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261464562562530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/STyZV4Yb9eI/AAAAAAAAAyc/4ITU_9hyiIg/s320/positivity.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Thoughts can feel like they are private and hidden deep inside of you. Yet they have an influence that extends far beyond you. What if others could know what you were thinking? Would it change the content of your thoughts? In many ways, other people can and do know what you are thinking. Because your thoughts are faithfully expressed by the life you lead. If you're constantly thinking negative, limiting thoughts, people will be able to tell just by looking at you and your life's conditions. In the same way, when you fill your mind with positive, empowering thoughts, that will be wonderfully obvious. You might be able to hide the specific details of your thoughts. Yet you cannot hide the true nature of those thoughts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Mind Reading 101" is a course that I have failed three times over the course of my academic career. If someone doesn't communicate to me in words what it is they want to convey, there is no way at all I am going to know! This is something I'm constantly telling my children, my spouse, my friends, even my co-workers. It amazes me how much people just "assume" I know. Sometimes it can be very frustrating. Other times, comical. Of course, depending upon the circumstances. At work, it is most annoying. We are all there to do a job. I do my part, you do yours. When we work together, the work gets done that much more efficiently, and we all succeed in reaching our goals. If one person on the team doesn't want to be "on the team," and assumes that everyone else knows this, it creates chaos. We are all adults. We can all talk it out, whatever it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;At home, well, that is a whole other ball game. For example; my son &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;assumes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; because he puts his swim gear on the hallway floor that I know it needs to be rinsed out. He flips out when he finds that it hasn't been done. My husband just &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;assumes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; that I have planned supper for the evening when I just spent the last 8-10 hours in the office, thinking of anything but. &lt;strong&gt;COMMUNICATION, people!&lt;/strong&gt; Communication is the key! Tell me what you want, need, will, or will not do. Tell me how you feel. Then, there will be no second guessing, no embarrassing moments when the assumption is all wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On a higher level, yes, your thoughts do show in the life you lead. If you think of life as an adventure, a new discovery at every turn, you are bound to demonstrate that side of you to the world. If you barely get by, paralyzed by fear of the unknown, that too is going to show in your actions, and interactions with others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I choose to live my life to the fullest extent. We are given but a short time here. I believe in making the most of every opportunity. I choose positivity over negativity; passion over apathy; a smile over a frown, and love - always love - over loathing. I will strive to continually guide my thoughts to positive places, and in return I believe that the whole world will follow.  Yet, if I'm feeling down, the thoughts that sadness generates, does reflect in my actions.  My thoughts show in my face, my speech, and my attitude.  Positivity breeds a smile, a sparkle in my eye, excitement in the way that I talk, and an attitude that can be contagious.  Negativity does the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Only you can make the choice - positive / negative?  Let your thoughts be thoughts that you want everyone to see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-4433964906060248436?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/4433964906060248436/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=4433964906060248436" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/4433964906060248436?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/4433964906060248436?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-thoughts-show.html" title="You Thoughts Show" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/STyZV4Yb9eI/AAAAAAAAAyc/4ITU_9hyiIg/s72-c/positivity.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcAQn87eSp7ImA9WxRUE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-5876208565963457525</id><published>2008-11-22T13:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T14:34:03.101-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-22T14:34:03.101-06:00</app:edited><title>Conditions Change</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SShq6sn2LqI/AAAAAAAAAyU/Xa6wLJ1U9Es/s1600-h/weather+change.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271580920480411298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 95px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SShq6sn2LqI/AAAAAAAAAyU/Xa6wLJ1U9Es/s320/weather+change.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If I have learned one thing in recent years, it is that the only constant in this world is CHANGE. Now, that may sound like an oxymoron to you &lt;em&gt;(constant change),&lt;/em&gt; but to me, it makes perfect sense. Here are some examples...Our country's presidency is changing hands, we are into a change of seasons from Fall to Winter, our economy is ever-changing, our children contintue to grow and change, and on and on it goes. Change is EVERYWHERE and is in EVERYTHING. If people expect to grow and mature, in their thoughts, their actions, and their feelings, they must CHANGE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So many people resist change, even abhor change. They try and hide from it, they push back from it, but no matter how hard they try, change finds them, and they must either roll with it, or die trying. Then there are those, like me, who long for change. I accept it, welcoming it with an open heart, open arms, and an open mind. I love the change in the seasons, the changes in the weather, and the change that new challenges bring my way. Change is something I thrive on. To those who feel that change is their enemy, or who fear it to the point of paralysis, I say ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Conditions change all the time. What you could depend on yesterday, might very well be gone today. What once worked so well for you, will eventually fail to bring the results you seek. So when conditions change, you have the valuable opportunity to change along with them. Life by its very definition is always changing. People who make the most of life are those who expect the changes, welcome them, and find the positive possibilities in each one. When you see changes occurring, instead of making a judgment make a careful observation. You cannot stop the changes that are already taking place, so your best strategy is to find the opportunities that are embedded within them.&lt;br /&gt;And those positive opportunities are most certainly there. Rather than being fearful of the changes, be curious, and you'll see the hidden value in those changes.&lt;br /&gt;You can count on the fact that the world will continue to change. And you can always choose to take the actions that will make those changes be for the better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Only then, will you find COMFORT in CHANGE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-5876208565963457525?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/5876208565963457525/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=5876208565963457525" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5876208565963457525?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5876208565963457525?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/11/conditions-change.html" title="Conditions Change" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SShq6sn2LqI/AAAAAAAAAyU/Xa6wLJ1U9Es/s72-c/weather+change.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMNQ3o7eip7ImA9WxRWFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-3288055919150754729</id><published>2008-11-02T14:02:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T22:44:52.402-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-02T22:44:52.402-06:00</app:edited><title>There Is So Much That Is Good...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SQ6Bha0AvZI/AAAAAAAAAyM/oNkBX5rj-qU/s1600-h/RAINBOW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264287425575828882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 104px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SQ6Bha0AvZI/AAAAAAAAAyM/oNkBX5rj-qU/s320/RAINBOW.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We are at a turning point; a new president will be elected next week, Fall is upon us (or should be by now); and our generation is watching our children grow up right before our eyes. It is so easy to get mired down in the negativity, the sniping, and the gossip. All the "he said...she said," and the lies and deceit. Where have all the good things gone? We can remember back to a simpler time. A time when the biggest decision we had to make was what kind of cereal to have for breakfast, and then what cartoon to watch while we ate it in front of the TV. Now, it is decisions about whether or not to go back to school, to start a new career, or be a stay-at-home mom. Our minds are constantly spinning. We worry - a lot. We worry about what our children do when they are away from us. We think about the choices they will make that will shape them into the adults they will become and the contributions they will make to our society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We see the news and read the newspaper, opening ourselves up to all the violence and misery going on in the world. Every now and then, there is a "human interest story," something that can make us smile or help us to appreciate where we are - but it is always buried at the bottom of the 3rd or 4th page and we might not see it. I must try and find the positive in the everyday things. The happy among the sad; the powerful among the weak; the love among the hate. It has to be there...somewhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, we begin at home...with our families. Toss out regret and anger...both are a waste of time. Precious time that none of us seem to have enough of. Spend our time looking at the good in each other. Spend more time away from the TV and the video games. Play together. Laugh together. Remember what family is really all about. Whether it is a mom, dad and children, or a husband and wife, or children and grandparents; no matter what, do not forget what makes your family a family...Love. I know that there are times when we are exasperated by our children, or our spouse, but those times must be the exception, rather than the rule. For every negative, there must be TWO positives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Be slow to take offense if indeed you ever take offense at all. For being offended gains you nothing and can cost you much. Have patience with the mistakes and follies of others. Instead of harsh criticism, offer genuinely helpful feedback so that everyone benefits. Forgive early and forgive often. Set yourself free from the heavy burden of resentment, and move quickly beyond the pain. Learn from your regrets, yet do not punish yourself with them. Today is a new day with more possibilities than ever before. Be truly thankful for all that is, and for your opportunity to experience it. You'll discover great stores of goodness and value when you simply have faith that they're there. Live beyond the petty, fleeting concerns, and focus on the profound and beautiful substance of your life. There is so very much good that you can always do with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Most of all, thank God for this day, for your ability to read these words, for the love that surely surrounds you. Thank God for the gift of rest - I know it seems as though we do not get enough of it when we think we need it, but we must "work while it is day." Thank God for the gift of friendship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Live.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;LOVE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-3288055919150754729?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/3288055919150754729/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=3288055919150754729" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3288055919150754729?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3288055919150754729?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/11/there-is-so-much-that-is-good.html" title="There Is So Much That Is Good..." /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SQ6Bha0AvZI/AAAAAAAAAyM/oNkBX5rj-qU/s72-c/RAINBOW.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UBSHc_fCp7ImA9WxRXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-8467570264021798925</id><published>2008-10-22T22:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T23:14:19.944-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-22T23:14:19.944-05:00</app:edited><title>One More Attempt</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SP_5zQW-NpI/AAAAAAAAAyE/3fDAShoEkWc/s1600-h/learning+to+fly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260197548751992466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SP_5zQW-NpI/AAAAAAAAAyE/3fDAShoEkWc/s320/learning+to+fly.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SP_5KsCzlmI/AAAAAAAAAx8/dtY-pFwHnl0/s1600-h/try+again.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am a firm believer in, "If at first you don't succeed, try try again." How else do we become proficient at something? We practice. Some people have to practice harder and longer than others since we all learn at different speeds. I watch my son practice his singing, and it seems to come so effortlessly to him, although he assures me that sometimes it is very difficult. My daughter can sit down to the piano and play the most beautiful song, yet it doesn't seem to sound right to her. I will tell her she just needs to practice more. She gives me that "look," and then she proceeds to try again. She will play it over and over until she gets it right, or is at least satisfied with her progress for that day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What are the things that I do that require more than one attempt to get them right? Well, let's see, shall we? I practice my guitar...not as often as I would like to, or as often as I should, but when I work hard at it, the music comes back to me and fills me up like a warm day. I practice &lt;strong&gt;listening&lt;/strong&gt;...trying hard not to speak till the other person is finished; trying hard not to jump to conclusions, trying hard to make sure that they are heard so that they are sure to hear me. I practice &lt;strong&gt;trust&lt;/strong&gt;...this is a hard one. My trust is not easily earned, and if my trust is given and then betrayed, it rarely is offered again. I practice&lt;strong&gt; faith&lt;/strong&gt;...taking God at his word; believing that He is all around me; believing that he will have a place for me when I leave this world...faith is one of the hardest things of all to learn. Not just in God, but in my family and friends as well. It is hard to have faith that they will always be there for me. It is hard to have faith that they will always love me. There are more, I'm sure...humility, generosity, and of course - love, that I need to practice daily, and will continue to for the rest of my life. How else will I grow as a person? A human being? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We teach our children to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over when things don't go right, don't we? We as parents should remember that as well. Children have it easy...their trust and faith in their parents comes easily when they are young...the listening leaves a lot to be desired though! We can learn much from the innocence of our kids. We must be the examples that they will model their lives after. We must show them that it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; to be wrong, that it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; to fail, as long as we learn from our mistakes and try again. There is always one more chance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will work every day to become a better listener, more trusting, and to grow in my faith. I will dance like no one is watching, love passionately, sing loudly, and embrace life. And when I screw up (which I will time and again), I will face those moments head-on, and I will try again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If you are always willing to make one more attempt, you can reach whatever goal you choose. No matter what results you get, the only real failure is when you stop making the effort.&lt;br /&gt;When you are mistaken, you can learn. When you are knocked down, you can get back up.&lt;br /&gt;When you find that you've veered off track, you can correct your direction. When you discover that circumstances have changed, you can make adjustments accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, you'll reach the point at which the next attempt you make is the one that will complete the desired accomplishment. What a shame it would be to stop just one effort short of success.&lt;br /&gt;For that next effort will make all the others pay off. Commit yourself to making one more effort, one more attempt, as often as necessary, and anything is within your reach.&lt;br /&gt;Keep making that one more attempt, keep getting back up, and keep moving forward in the direction of your goal, one step after another. And you will surely get there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-8467570264021798925?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/8467570264021798925/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=8467570264021798925" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8467570264021798925?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8467570264021798925?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/one-more-attempt.html" title="One More Attempt" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SP_5zQW-NpI/AAAAAAAAAyE/3fDAShoEkWc/s72-c/learning+to+fly.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUFQHs_fCp7ImA9WxRXEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-8672831486478062799</id><published>2008-10-16T22:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T23:20:11.544-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-16T23:20:11.544-05:00</app:edited><title>Late Nights</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SPgR9UcQlEI/AAAAAAAAAx0/c78dJ7Hyn4U/s1600-h/moon+rising.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257972310111982658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SPgR9UcQlEI/AAAAAAAAAx0/c78dJ7Hyn4U/s320/moon+rising.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SPgJzotvLhI/AAAAAAAAAxs/zupK2lYaj4w/s1600-h/moon+rising.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It never ceases to amaze me how my mind comes alive late at night. Alive with people, stories, thoughts, and dreams; even more so than when I'm sleeping. Everyone is in bed. The house is quiet, and I have the peacefulness to myself. I love this time of night. It doesn't seem to matter how tired I am. If I can get these few moments of silence to myself, I want to throw myself into them fully and tonight is no exception. I worked late, going in for another 3 hours after my usual 8 during the day. Just earning a little extra cash before the holidays are upon us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;MacKenzie called me at about 10pm, wanting to know when I would be home so that I could tuck her in. She's 12 and she still wants me to tuck her in. :-) When I got home at a little after 10, all the lights were burning in the house. Larry was asleep, Mac was getting ready for bed, and Tyler was showering. It took them all of 15 minutes to settle down, turn out the lights, and drift off, leaving me alone in the solitary light of the computer screen, and the occasional sigh from Lexie my Black Lab in the next room. I'm relaxed now. I'm reflecting on the events of my day; the going away celebration for my dear friend, Jen, who was promoted; the birthday of another co-worker, Pam, which she celebrated by wearing her pink tiara (she turns 55 this weekend); and of course, Boss's Day. Gifts were showered on my boss, Barb, and as always, she was embarrassed...telling us we didn't have to, blah blah blah. I got quite a bit of work completed for a change as there was only one meeting to go to. I'm thinking of goals I'm setting for myself (to be more organized; to finish my degree very soon; to eventually promote out of the position I'm in), and what it is going to take to achieve them. I'm thinking about the physical therapy I will be going through next week to try and work through this pain in my lower back that just seems to be getting worse all the time. One would think that with all of this activity in the gray matter of my being, that I would be too wound up to sleep, too wide awake. Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I look at it as an opportunity to review the events of today, plan for tomorrow, and just &lt;em&gt;be.&lt;/em&gt; This is when I have nothing to prove, no one to impress, and no deadline to meet. I get to just be myself and all that I am. I get to dream about what I want out of the rest of my life. I have license to wonder about things I normally wouldn't. If I want to be someone completely different, I can, because this is &lt;em&gt;my time.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Now and then, as the minutes tick by, I'll hear footsteps down the hallway - one of the kids hitting the kitchen for another drink of something, or Larry coming to the top of the stairway to yell to me, "Are you going to bed sometime tonight?" I always laugh to myself when he does that and think, &lt;em&gt;Of course I am. &lt;/em&gt;Sleep doesn't come easily to me on nights like this. I would rather just sit here and write rather than lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, with no outlet for the thoughts that are racing through my mind. Unloading those thoughts is the best way to release the tension and put myself in the right frame of mind to give myself up to unconscious dreams. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I wonder about other people out there - do they have this love of the nocturnal in common with me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What about &lt;strong&gt;YOU&lt;/strong&gt;? Are you an early riser, or a night owl like I am? What do you do when you can't sleep right away? What thoughts and wishes run through your mind, when you are the only one awake, and no one can hear your thoughts but God?  Think of this as a safe space; tell me your secrets, and I'll tell you mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-8672831486478062799?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/8672831486478062799/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=8672831486478062799" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8672831486478062799?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8672831486478062799?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/late-nights.html" title="Late Nights" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SPgR9UcQlEI/AAAAAAAAAx0/c78dJ7Hyn4U/s72-c/moon+rising.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YDRnk-eSp7ImA9WxRQFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-1101121043862577840</id><published>2008-10-10T08:51:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T10:06:17.751-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-10T10:06:17.751-05:00</app:edited><title>Saying, "Good-bye"</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO9vGc7S59I/AAAAAAAAAwc/hmW0TciZ1hs/s1600-h/goodbye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255541446799452114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO9vGc7S59I/AAAAAAAAAwc/hmW0TciZ1hs/s320/goodbye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Good-bye." We say it to our spouse, children, and/or pet when we leave for work or school, we say it to our co-workers at the end of our workday, we say it to the person on the other end of the phone when the conversation has ended, and sometimes we even say it to a lover when it is time for the relationship to end. The definition of the word &lt;em&gt;goodbye&lt;/em&gt; means simply, &lt;em&gt;farewell.&lt;/em&gt; When we say, "Farewell," to someone, we are expressing the hope that their travels are safe, and they get to their next destination without incident. For me, "Good-bye," means a change in one's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have two younger brothers, and the youngest, Adam, is the one that I am the closest to. I was 8 years old when "AJ" was born. I thought he was the most precious thing I had ever seen, and i wanted nothing more than to be with him. Mom was great about letting me help dress, feed, bathe, and change him. No wonder we grew up to be good friends as well as brother and sister. As he and I got older, our relationship grew even closer. When I was 16, got a drivers license, a car, and a job, I didn't let those things come between us. Fridays in the summer were days for Adam and me. I would take him to a movie or out to lunch, or sometimes even both. While many of my friends were shunning little brothers and sisters, I loved it when Adam came along with me. Back then, he called me, "Sissy." He followed me around, and I loved it. I played softball then, and Adam would come into the dugout and be our water boy or bat boy - codewords for "mascot." He wore shirts like the team, and "coached" us from the dugout, "Choke up, Sissy!....Right-field hole!" After the game, the "little dirtball" would run the bases, sliding into each one with purpose and intensity, his white-blond hair stained with the dust and dirt of the field, his face darkened by the same, and there was always the grin after sliding into home. He was full of boundless energy, and his smile was catching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When he was in high school, I was in the process of starting my family. Tyler was a baby then, and we would go and watch Adam play baseball for his high school team. Tyler had a onesie that I fabric painted the colors of Adam's team, and my nephew being only 3 mos. older than Tyler, had one too. We came out and cheered for "Uncle Adam," and his teammates, and Adam loved it. He would hold them both, posing for pictures, kissing each one and beaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Adam has grown now into a wonderful man; a loving, Christian father and husband, a responsible member of society, a working man. Yet, he is still my baby brother, and it is hard for me to see him any other way. Somehow, I still feel responsible for him in that big sister sort of way, knowing that should he need me, I would be there for him...and him for me. Adam's wife, is from a little town about 5 hours from here. She misses her family after being away from them for about five years as she and Adam were building a life for their family. The time has come for them to move closer to her family. They have sold their home here, found a new one there, and tomorrow, they will make the drive, children and belongings in tow, to their new home. Last night, we met at Mom's to have dinner together and to say, "Good-bye." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have had plenty of time to prepare for this. I've known about their impending move for some time now. When I first heard the news, I was upset, and I couldn't understand why they would want to make a move like this. They both had good jobs, the schools, medical care, and cost of living here is pretty decent. I even felt a little betrayed. Yet, the more I thought about it from their point of view, the more accepting I became. Their children need to get to know their mom's side of the family; aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. It isn't like they can't come back to visit or we can't visit them. It isn't Timbuktu for Heaven's sake! So, I talked myself into this move being a good thing for Adam and his family. A way for them to grow in their relationships with the rest of the family, and with each other. I looked at our get-together last night as a going-away party. And then the time came...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We ate Mom's chili, we laughed, we talked (all at once of course). I played with my 3 year old niece who promptly told me, "Cara! I am just about 4!!" A very precocious 4, I might add. I spent much time cuddling my 2 month old nephew, rocking him, talking to him, and getting to see that heart tugging smile of his. We exchanged new pictures of the kids, took more photos with Mom and Dad, my Grandma, and my mother's sisters. Tyler, MacKenzie, and I were the last to leave. I waited until the last possible moment before saying my good-bye. I hugged and kissed my niece, and I asked her if she would call me sometimes. "Of course, Aunt Cara!" was her incredulous reply. My baby nephew was sleeping, oblivious to it all, in his mother's arms and I hugged her and told her that I loved her. Then, Adam...I had promised myself that I would not cry when I said good-bye to my brother, but all the positive self-talk in the world could not have prepared me for the rush of emotion I experienced as I put my arms around him, kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him. The tears came anyway. I hugged him tighter and told him that I would miss him. The word good-bye never passed my lips. I wished them a safe move, and we left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In retrospect, there are many of things I wish I would have told my brother before he left, but at the same time, our simple parting left the door wide open. He isn't gone forever. He is just living in another part of the state. Still, I am used to having all of my family close by. We kids, always close to Mom. Everyone comes to birthday parties, holiday gatherings and is only a phone call away should trouble arise, or if someone needs someone to laugh with. Now, I kind of feel like an only child. My other brother is off doing his own thing, and we don't hear from him often, if at all. Now with Adam further away, it's just me. I miss them already. I know that in a couple of months, we will see them all again for the holidays. So in the meantime, I will pray for their safety and happiness, I will write them often, keeping them up to date on the goings on back here at home, and I will carry them all in my heart when we are apart from one another. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Good-bye. Au revoir. Slán libh. Valete. Adios. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No matter how it is said, it always means....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Farewell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-1101121043862577840?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/1101121043862577840/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=1101121043862577840" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/1101121043862577840?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/1101121043862577840?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/saying-good-bye.html" title="Saying, &quot;Good-bye&quot;" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO9vGc7S59I/AAAAAAAAAwc/hmW0TciZ1hs/s72-c/goodbye.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcNQ3Yzeip7ImA9WxRQFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-2779387481627310859</id><published>2008-10-07T19:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T19:34:52.882-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-07T19:34:52.882-05:00</app:edited><title>"Invisible Mother"</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;I get tons of email. Well, not "tons," but a lot nonetheless. A lot of it is funny cartoons, videos, pictures, and stories that I cannot help but to forward on to my friends who also enjoy a laugh now and then. Sometimes, I get email forwarded to me that I delete immediately; advertisements, spam, pleas from the Democratic Party to support their "candidate." And then there are the emails that genuinely make me stop and think, make me appreciate my place in the world, and make me feel connected to others in my "situation." I am going to include one of those "stop, think, appreciate, and connect" stories that I received from a friend recently. I hope that it speaks to you in the same way that it spoke to me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Invisible Mother" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Obviously, not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor,or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm &lt;em&gt;invisible&lt;/em&gt;. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? &amp;amp; Can you open this?&lt;br /&gt;Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?'; I'm a satellite guide to answer,'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England.&lt;br /&gt;Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'&lt;br /&gt;It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:&lt;br /&gt;'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:&lt;br /&gt;No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied,'Because God sees.'&lt;br /&gt;I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte . I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I really think about it, I don't want my daughter to tell the friend she's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want her to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see if we're doing it right.&lt;br /&gt;And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;---Wow. That says it all, doesn't it? We as women are very fortunate. We can do one thing that men will never be able to do - be mothers. We all complain about it sometimes; how our children misbehave, don't appreciate us, or that we don't have the freedom to do other things like we did before they came; yet, I believe that inside all of us, we beam with pride at the accomplishment that is motherhood. God willing, our children will grow up to be strong, sane, and productive members of society. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Invisible? Sure. But behind every doctor, lawyer, football player, or dancer - there is a mom&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOv_1cpLImI/AAAAAAAAAwU/MfEcm0v9Nw8/s1600-h/mother+and+child.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254574683944854114" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOv_1cpLImI/AAAAAAAAAwU/MfEcm0v9Nw8/s320/mother+and+child.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-2779387481627310859?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/2779387481627310859/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=2779387481627310859" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/2779387481627310859?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/2779387481627310859?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/invisible-mother.html" title="&quot;Invisible Mother&quot;" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOv_1cpLImI/AAAAAAAAAwU/MfEcm0v9Nw8/s72-c/mother+and+child.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMBQX08eSp7ImA9WxRQFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-7663729289671422784</id><published>2008-10-02T17:41:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T17:10:50.371-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-07T17:10:50.371-05:00</app:edited><title>Injury Report &amp; An Afternoon With Grandpa</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmTXBUf1_I/AAAAAAAAAwM/EaZvL8xKFoM/s1600-h/IMG_6382.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmS49S7tOI/AAAAAAAAAv8/WBLdrxGfGKY/s1600-h/IMG_6390.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253891947528697058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px" height="230" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmS49S7tOI/AAAAAAAAAv8/WBLdrxGfGKY/s400/IMG_6390.JPG" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmTW2Op2mI/AAAAAAAAAwE/LAWkXna-9fU/s1600-h/IMG_6379.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253892461027777122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 129px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" height="161" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmTW2Op2mI/AAAAAAAAAwE/LAWkXna-9fU/s400/IMG_6379.JPG" width="105" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmTW2Op2mI/AAAAAAAAAwE/LAWkXna-9fU/s1600-h/IMG_6379.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blog Updates: &lt;/strong&gt;There have been a few updates to my blog - in case you haven't noticed. I removed the ads - I hate those things, and they are a real turn off. I figure, if I don't like them, chances are, you don't either. So, they are history! Also, you now have the option to FOLLOW MY BLOG! So, please do. Right now, it says that I have zero followers, so that makes me feel a little inadequate. Not only that, but if no one is reading my blog, then that means I'm writing to no one....not very helpful therapy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have also added the current moon phase to the bottom of the page. I just thought it was cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Injury Report: &lt;/strong&gt;No, I am not talking about sports injuries, although now the Cubs are out of the playoffs, and I know of a few fans that would like to inflict some injuries there! No, I am talking about my injury - my back, and MacKenzie's injury - her sprained ankle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;First of all, a few weeks ago, I strained my back. No big deal really. It was sore for a little while and then seemed to get better. Then, about 2 weeks ago, I did "something" to it - not sure what - and it started hurting again. This should have been my red flag to get it looked at. However, being the procrastinator that I am, I decided to wait until "I had time" to get that done. Bad idea. Last weekend, I was at Karen's. We took Lexie with us, and I was playing frisbee with her and Kali (Lexie's best buddy). Everything was going fine, although I was a little sore still. I went to throw the disc, and must have twisted just right (or wrong, as the case may be) and CRUNCH. It was a sensation not unlike cracking your knuckles, only with much more pain. I went to the doctor where they did an X-Ray and it was determined that I have a sacrillary (sp?) sprain. Basically, what this means, is that nothing is broken (thank goodness) and it is going to take time to heal. Wel,l I have time. I'll be a good girl, not lift anything, and take my pain medicine like I'm supposed to. If in 10 days I'm not better, I have to go back to the doctor and they will do an MRI to find out what else could be going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As for Mac....she is the only one I know who could sprain her ankle simply by walking. She has an air cast, but is walking on it pretty good now. Still limping a little bit. I'm sure that she will survive it. She was already looking pretty good tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tyler had a wonderful day today. My dad called and asked him to come and do some mowing, some raking and some brush removal at his and Mom's place. They have an acreage just east of town, horses, and all. Once the work was completed, Dad took Tyler for a trail ride with the horses. Tyler hasn't been on a ride in quite awhile so he was really excited to go! He got to ride Max, a beautiful Quarterhorse/Arabian bay. Max is about the gentlest horse in Mom and Dad's stable. They rode a full two hours, and it was even pitch dark by the time the loaded the horses back into the trailer and headed for home. Tyler had been at the yard work all day and then the long horseback ride...needless to say, he was wiped out when we got home around 10:30 and went straight to bed. I have not seen him so happy in a very long time. Smiling from ear to ear, and just going on and on about how he and Max "bonded," and how much being with Grandpa meant to him. I am so thankful that my dad is spending this kind of time with Tyler. It means a lot to me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Next time, I want to go along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tomorrow is Monday - GRRRR. Not my favorite day of the week, but tomorrow could be rather interesting. I interviewed for a promotion last week and tomorrow I should find out whether or not I got the job. Still with the same company, just a little more responsibility. I am ready for some new challenges!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;MacKenzie has her middle school show choir audition tomorrow. She had to memorize a song, and will have to sing with the director's accompaniment. She even had to write a one-page essay on why she wants to be in show choir, including past experience! This guy is really serious! I'm sure that she will do just fine. I'm so proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Adding new pictures today...Tyler and Victoria (his girlfriend of 5 months) before the Homecoming dance, Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;More in a day or two!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-7663729289671422784?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/7663729289671422784/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=7663729289671422784" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/7663729289671422784?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/7663729289671422784?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/injury-report-afternoon-with-grandpa.html" title="Injury Report &amp; An Afternoon With Grandpa" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOmS49S7tOI/AAAAAAAAAv8/WBLdrxGfGKY/s72-c/IMG_6390.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQNQX0yfip7ImA9WxRRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-4620709158632176593</id><published>2008-10-01T20:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:53:10.396-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:53:10.396-05:00</app:edited><title>October 1st...Fall is Upon Us...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOQpdqv2aMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/6G1lgeT9bTI/s1600-h/fall+foliage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252368655088773314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOQpdqv2aMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/6G1lgeT9bTI/s400/fall+foliage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I woke up this morning, it was about 45 degrees! Honestly - I love this weather. I love it when the air gets colder, the leaves start to turn, and there is that unmistakable fall-like smell in the air - Larry says that it is the smell of decomposing plant material. Thanks for that, Larry.&lt;br /&gt;Really, it is beautiful. It reminds me of why I still live here and haven't moved somewhere more appealing (meaning: warmer; no snow). I love the change in the seasons; real change. I look forward to each one, and for different reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fall&lt;/strong&gt;: Because of the cool days, cooler nights, extra blankets, and the crisp air&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Winter:&lt;/strong&gt; The snow...playing in it with the dog and the kids; the holidays; Tyler and Mac's birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Spring&lt;/strong&gt;: Everything comes alive again. Still not too hot; flowers are blooming, and the grass gets really really green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Summer&lt;/strong&gt;: Hot days; show choir, and picnics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...I forgot one! Fall because it is football season! Which reminds me, Tyler went to the homecoming parade tonight! The game is Friday (WIN COUGARS!) and the dance is Saturday. I cannot believe that my little boy is big enough to go to a high school dance! I'll have to post some pictures here later in the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What about you? Which season is YOUR favorite? Why do you love it like you do? Tell me!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is a Comment option at the bottom of the page. USE IT, PLEASE!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-4620709158632176593?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/4620709158632176593/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=4620709158632176593" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/4620709158632176593?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/4620709158632176593?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/10/october-1stfall-is-upon-us.html" title="October 1st...Fall is Upon Us..." /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOQpdqv2aMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/6G1lgeT9bTI/s72-c/fall+foliage.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQEQHY_fSp7ImA9WxRRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-8622709337441536193</id><published>2008-09-28T17:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:51:41.845-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:51:41.845-05:00</app:edited><title>Drama Drama Drama</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOAELftOuoI/AAAAAAAAAvk/qtTmm85gy1E/s1600-h/comedy+tragedy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251201761050278530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOAELftOuoI/AAAAAAAAAvk/qtTmm85gy1E/s320/comedy+tragedy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Neuroses run in my family; especially in the women. My grandmother, mother, aunts, sisters, we all have our quirks. For me, it is my capacity for drama. Not the drama that we see on TV, or in the movies, but the drama that we create for ourselves. The drama that causes reaction and over-reaction to certain situations. For instance...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I read over my post from yesterday. Some would read that and say, "OK, now that woman has issues!" Others who know me would say, "It is just Cara being Cara, and we love her for her honesty." Yeah, right. I have become my mother. I think it is inevitable. Women become their mothers, men become their fathers (well, not always). I catch myself talking like her, acting like her. The kids will say, "Mom, you said that just like Grandma, and it scared me!" It "scares" them? But they love my mother! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I love her too. If they want to compare me to her, that is the best compliment ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I am a little more sane today. Not so dramatic, not so much self-induced stress. Actually, I feel pretty decent aside from some nagging back pain...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Might have to get that looked at. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-8622709337441536193?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/8622709337441536193/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=8622709337441536193" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8622709337441536193?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8622709337441536193?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/09/drama-drama-drama.html" title="Drama Drama Drama" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SOAELftOuoI/AAAAAAAAAvk/qtTmm85gy1E/s72-c/comedy+tragedy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8CSHg-cCp7ImA9WxRRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-5244263026830121786</id><published>2008-09-27T12:25:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:27:49.658-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:27:49.658-05:00</app:edited><title>What's Next?   ....An Answer</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SN55XVF5lyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/RtQ8fWQ4jqc/s1600-h/sad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250767657266419490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SN55XVF5lyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/RtQ8fWQ4jqc/s200/sad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You know how you have&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;those &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;moments...the ones where you are sure that a situation is going to go a certain way and then it doesn't work out that way at all; it turns out completely different? Well...me too. It has come to my attention that things do NOT turn out the way that we want them to - much of the time. For better or for worse, that is the way it is. In the process of all my ranting, raving, wondering, hoping, and praying, I finally have an answer to that all encompassing question, "What next?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Nothing. That's right, nothing. Nothing is next. My days will continue as they have..one after the other. With every sunset comes the end of one day, and with the sunrise, the beginning of the next. And as this process continues, I remain in this life I have chosen for myself. I'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. I work a job, I keep a house, I attend parents meetings at the kids' schools, and I pay my bills. That's it. I am do not have the freedom to be anything else. There isn't time for it. I sleep when I'm tired and I eat when I'm hungry. I cry when I'm sad, and I laugh when I'm happy. Just like everyone else. I'm not extraordinary - I'm the epitome of ordinary. I put my jeans on one leg at a time. Just like everyone else.  I have a real heart; one that is easily given, but is also easily broken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I know when people are together a long time, that romantic love can fade. I've read all the books. I've seen Dr. Phil. I've talked to my psychologist, my pastor, my friends. They all say that relationships start with physical attraction; passion, heat, sex, etc. They say then, that as time goes on, that intensity fades, and rather than lovers, you become more like friends. Friends with a history. Well, I think before these people started shooting their mouths off about the evolution of a relationship, they should have talked to me. For me, my relationships were never about passion, or intense love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;What's next? Well, for me...my heart is beginning a hollowing-out process. Each day, it beats with a little less force. What is the point, really? It is only there now to keep this body alive. Physically anyway. I will continue on the path I have carved out for myself. I will continue being what others want me to be. I will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;continue&lt;/span&gt; being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I only hope that I don't lose myself in the process.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(Where's the Ben &amp;amp; Jerry's when I need it?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-5244263026830121786?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/5244263026830121786/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=5244263026830121786" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5244263026830121786?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5244263026830121786?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/09/whats-next-answer.html" title="What's Next?   ....An Answer" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SN55XVF5lyI/AAAAAAAAAvc/RtQ8fWQ4jqc/s72-c/sad.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIMQn88cSp7ImA9WxRRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-3603645567323104945</id><published>2008-09-25T19:17:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:23:03.179-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:23:03.179-05:00</app:edited><title>Freudian Slip</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SNwxv1S1KuI/AAAAAAAAAuo/CImqFiDnUCo/s1600-h/tie+dye+heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250125963436829410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 146px" height="115" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SNwxv1S1KuI/AAAAAAAAAuo/CImqFiDnUCo/s200/tie+dye+heart.jpg" width="172" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What's Next....That is a very good question. I wish I a had a very good answer. I am all alone for awhile tonight. Larry and Tyler are off to a choir practice thing, Mac is at a friend's house, and here I am...at the computer...my mind going in a thousand different directions. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;The pizza I ate for dinner earlier is not agreeing with me. I have a million ideas for a book I want to write. I should start the dryer running so the damp clothing in there doesn't get rank. Tomorrow is Friday. I am addicted to this "Twitter" thing.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Wait! Enough of the thinking out loud!! That is only going to get me into more trouble. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Do you believe that there are no real "accidents?"  That when someone says something, when they just blurt it out, that is truly what they meant to say? Freud thought so; although I don't put much stock in Freud - he is dead after all.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I think that sometimes when we say something that we know we shouldn't it is because it was in the forefront of our minds.  It is something that needed to be said to jar the receiver into action.  It might even be a defense mechanism of sorts.  Who knows? I'm no professional.  I'm no "stalker" either.  :-)  I am merely someone who enjoys intelligent conversation with people of similar interests.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;There - a good explanation at last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-3603645567323104945?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/3603645567323104945/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=3603645567323104945" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3603645567323104945?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3603645567323104945?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/09/whats-next.html" title="Freudian Slip" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SNwxv1S1KuI/AAAAAAAAAuo/CImqFiDnUCo/s72-c/tie+dye+heart.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUDR3kyfCp7ImA9WxRRGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-6129220896828870466</id><published>2008-09-23T20:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:17:56.794-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:17:56.794-05:00</app:edited><title>Missing Month</title><content type="html">I cannot believe I skipped the entire month of August without posting!! I'm sure that no one really noticed my absence, but I'm back just the same. Let's evaluate where we left off, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last post was about the realization that my husband is not perfect (GASP!) and that I would be a fool if I tried to change him. Still true.  I am also, more than ever, thankful for my friendships with others.  They are helping to keep me sane (as much as possible, anyway).  What else? Oh yes...my expression of appreciation for the love I receive from God. Still true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to catch up on the strangeness, the obsessions, and the latest installment in what has become the soap opera of my life, I begin this entry with....&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My shrink assures me that the fluctuations in my mood, the ups and downs of my personality, and the lack of concentration are all due to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ADHD&lt;/span&gt; and my depression-anxiety disorders. No, I am NOT crazy. Emotionally challenged is a better description. As long as I get the proper dosages of my medications everyday, I behave quite normally. In fact, I have felt quite sane in recent weeks. At least until September 16&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. September 16&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; was the day I began detailing in my mind, a new  emotion, an obsession if you will, that has taken up residence in my consciousness of late. I'm wonder if it is time to come out of the closet (not like that!); face the music; charge in with guns blazing and ask questions later...well, not so much. It is easy to think these things.  It is easy to be brave when the only other person around is behind a closed door watching the Cubs play.  It is easy to say, difficult to act upon.  And the truth is, I won't act.  It would be irresponsible, it would be against everything I believe in, and there are too many other reasons not to.   Yet, at just the thought of the other possibility, the tigers that have taken up residence in my stomach go bouncing around like on those inflatable bouncy-things kids play in.  I am a mess, a wreck, a head-case, and a whole host of other descriptors for people in my situation.  But, I am an adult.  I must act responsibly.  I have young ones looking to me for answers to life's problems.  Then there is the proverbial "devil on my shoulder" telling me that the only thing I have to lose is my sanity, and that sanity is highly overrated.  No... I will remain stoic; a picture of resolve. I will go about my daily routine as though I am the strong, sensible person that most everyone who-really-doesn't- know me, but thinks they do- believes that I am. I am determined to live through this latest phase of my life. I will come out unscathed, heart intact, and strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my phone is ringing....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-6129220896828870466?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/6129220896828870466/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=6129220896828870466" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/6129220896828870466?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/6129220896828870466?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/09/missing-month.html" title="Missing Month" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UESHg7eSp7ImA9WxRVFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-5712684000113284944</id><published>2008-07-19T18:54:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T14:46:49.601-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T14:46:49.601-06:00</app:edited><title>Home Improvement</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SIJ_Fti9poI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/8Uuy6r11kho/s1600-h/healed+heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224878253805512322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SIJ_Fti9poI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/8Uuy6r11kho/s200/healed+heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hammer and nails; plaster and paint; blood and sweat. Yes, these are the tools of every one's home improvement projects. Well, almost every one's. If it were as easy to mend a heart as it is to paint a room, everyone in the world would be blissfully, incandescently happy all the time. But that is just not the way it is. However, I am now embarking on my own "home improvement" project. The wounds, while still burning, are beginning to heal. I'm beginning to feel a little warm again (never mind that it was in the 90s today), and feeling a little warmth in return. What happened? Good question. Let's review...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been complaining about Larry. His never ending fatigue, his negativity, his harshness with the kids, and his outright avoidance of me. All are valid concerns and deserved to be voiced. Yet, perhaps I didn't see the whole picture. I would like to say that this was all his fault, that I could not have been responsible for single cloud in the atmosphere of our household. But that would not be fair to either of us, and frankly, wouldn't be accurate. I AM just as, if not more, responsible than he. There, I have confessed, it is in writing and writing is forever (except on the Internet - you can delete anything).&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong. There, I said it...wrong. A friend of mine and I had a conversation recently that really made me stop and assess the situation. I asked him if he had ever felt this way - he said that he hadn't, but that doesn't mean that he and his wife agree all the time either. He is a big believer of talking it out. She isn't. Sometimes it gets heated, but it always gets worked out. He attributed his long relationship to his faith in God and love for their church. He said that he would keep us in his prayers in hopes that things "work themselves out." Later that night, I had trouble sleeping (ya think?) and as I laid there thinking of the things that my friend had said, acknowledging that I had to take part (if not all) responsibility for what was happening to us, I realized that Larry is doing the best he can. He is faithful, kind, and pretty normal considering my past experiences. He does love the kids-he just doesn't have as much patience with them as I do. I can help him with that by being patient with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all in all, this has been one of those things I need to chalk up to experience and move on. No dwelling, obsessing, or wondering. God put us together for a reason, and only He knows what that reason is. He has given me a partner for life. Someone that I can depend on, someone who will love me no matter what, and even though there will be times when we don't agree, we need to work to make sure that the sun does not go down upon our anger. We need to work things out before they get blown out of proportion like this drama queen tends to do on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;I will continue to pray, and I will continue to lay my troubles on God. I will give up control to Him (I'll TRY to anyway) and let him lead me to where I belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you my friend, for being there for me, for being my sounding board, and for helping direct my attention back where it needs to be - to the Cross and to my home.&lt;br /&gt;I will never forget you for this, and I will forever be in your debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Matthew 11:28-30. Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-5712684000113284944?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/5712684000113284944/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=5712684000113284944" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5712684000113284944?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5712684000113284944?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/home-improvement.html" title="Home Improvement" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SIJ_Fti9poI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/8Uuy6r11kho/s72-c/healed+heart.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QNRns8fip7ImA9WxRRGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-205717654549597715</id><published>2008-07-14T19:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:03:17.576-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:03:17.576-05:00</app:edited><title>Communication - or The Lack Thereof</title><content type="html">Funny thing - communication. With open lines of communication thoughts freely move from one place or person to another, it is easy then to know how the other person feels, and life is pretty decent. When communication shuts down, one needs to rely on their telepathic skills to read the other's mind; well frankly, I'm not much of a mind reader.&lt;br /&gt;So, when someone won't tell me what their issue is, what am I suppose to do? Guess? No way. I'm not even going to think about going there. What do YOU think? Here's the scenario: Man comes home everyday from work, dog tired, retreats immediately to his bedroom to "watch TV," falls asleep, gets up to eat dinner, and then back to bed for the remainder of the night. That is unless he needs to take a few minutes to bark something at young people within the residence. Meanwhile, Woman comes home from working all day, tired, but accepting that she is the glue that holds the family together; folds 3 loads of laundry, puts another in the washer, and still another in the dryer; responds to Man who has asked her what she planned for supper ("I don't know...what did you plan?"); spends more time cooking supper; eats, folds another load of laundry and then around 8pm, she gets 5 minutes to check her email, read, or just veg out. Keep in mind, Man is still sleeping. Then, Man wakes up from nap; proceeds to sit behind Woman working on the computer which absolutely drives her crazy! "Hello! What can I help you with?" Man leaves (looking dejected - whatever!). Woman goes back to living room, Man is there watching baseball. Man actually thinks that Woman is in the mood for a little "action." Get real!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this the "typical" life of an American married couple? I wonder...do my married friends go through this exact same scenario day after day? Women - we work 16 hours a day while our men work 8 and then come home "dog tired." What is he doing all day that makes him need 16 hours of sleep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True affection is non-existent. My hand goes unheld, lips go unkissed, shoulders go unrubbed, and heart gets colder every day. I am spending my days at work - which I LOVE as it keeps me occupied - and my nights fantasizing about someone else's life. Just once I would love for someone - anyone - to put their arms around me and let me cry. I never thought that the day would come when I would feel completely alone in a house full of people. But that day is here. I have never felt so lonely. No wonder I catch myself dreaming of someone I could never have. No wonder I vent to my best friend all the hurt that I'm feeling; and then feeling guilty because she has to raise her daughter alone. No wonder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do I do next? Do I flip out and tell him it's my way or the highway? Do I just sit quietly and wait for the storm to pass? Or, do I do nothing and accept that this is just the way it is and will be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-205717654549597715?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/205717654549597715/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=205717654549597715" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/205717654549597715?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/205717654549597715?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/communication-or-lack-thereof.html" title="Communication - or The Lack Thereof" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UESHk-eip7ImA9WxRVFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-6424817667271394406</id><published>2008-07-10T19:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T14:46:49.752-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T14:46:49.752-06:00</app:edited><title>Lightning CAN Strike the Same Place Twice</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHasW2ajEBI/AAAAAAAAAtI/2eSWMwXbCvY/s1600-h/lightning+bolt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221550326546632722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHasW2ajEBI/AAAAAAAAAtI/2eSWMwXbCvY/s320/lightning+bolt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says that lightning can't strike the same place twice? It most certainly can; literally and figuratively. For my friends who take the saying literally; if you hear thunder, there's lightning and you are too close! Go inside! Hanging around on your front or back porch to "watch the storm come in" is really stupid and could get you killed - or at least maimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my buddies who understand that I am talking about the figurative use of the phrase, boy, does lightning continue to strike or what? Last night after I was finished writing in my blog, Tyler came downstairs. Now, granted, it was late and we were both tired, but he looked a little more tired than usual. He informed me that he had pain in his chest, felt numb all over and was having a hard time catching his breath. Please understand that normally, this would not alarm me. Tyler is an active 14 year old who could have easily overexerted himself in his performance, but I have a blood clotting disorder, and the symptoms he was describing mirrored those that I experience when a clot moves within my lungs on the way to make its home in my brain. I calmly got up, told him to get dressed, that I was taking him to the ER. The doctor ordered a D-Dimer blood screen to rule out abnormal clotting in Tyler's blood. It came back negative - thank goodness. In the end, Tyler was diagnosed as having had an anxiety attack...very common in kids (and adults) who are being treated for ADHD. Tyler will have an appointment with his ADHD doc in about 2 weeks so we will address it with her then. In the meantime, I will need to keep him calm, not let him hyperventilate (the cause of the numbness) and see to it that he gets enough fluids and sleep. Good luck to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No email today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's Mood Elevator --&lt;br /&gt;FEEL WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop working so diligently to make your feelings match your circumstances. Realize instead that you can select and direct your feelings to create much more favorable circumstances of your own choosing.&lt;br /&gt;There's no law that says you must harbor feelings of disappointment, dismay, anger and futility when events don't go your way. You can just as easily feel amused, enlightened and more positively inspired than ever before.&lt;br /&gt;You could use your feelings to prolong a difficult situation. Or you can choose other feelings that will enable you to transcend your greatest difficulties and move forward.&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel positive when the world around you is so negative? Just ask yourself whether you would rather be imprisoned by your feelings or empowered by them.&lt;br /&gt;From moment to moment, you are constantly choosing which feelings to hold on to and which ones to discard. Be ever mindful of this power that is yours, for by improving the way you feel you can improve anything in your life to whatever degree you decide.&lt;br /&gt;Your feelings are powerful forces, and by taking control of them you can move your life in any direction. Feel whatever you choose, and you are choosing to make it so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-6424817667271394406?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/6424817667271394406/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=6424817667271394406" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/6424817667271394406?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/6424817667271394406?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/lightning-can-strike-same-place-twice.html" title="Lightning CAN Strike the Same Place Twice" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHasW2ajEBI/AAAAAAAAAtI/2eSWMwXbCvY/s72-c/lightning+bolt.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UBQXs7eyp7ImA9WxRRGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-3905965796765570141</id><published>2008-07-09T22:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:00:50.503-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T20:00:50.503-05:00</app:edited><title>Time Heals All Wounds</title><content type="html">...or so they say. Well, what about the wounds that are below the surface? The ones that no one can see, but you can feel? The ones that ache to be noticed so that the hurt stops?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to hear someone tell me that everything is going to be alright, that what I'm going through is just some kind of phase; a mid-life crisis if you will.  In the past, my blog has been fun; even entertaining; lately, it has been a bulletin board, tacked full of my own complaints.  That's me...the Mid-Life Crisis Poster Child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this only happened to men in their 50s?  Well, I think I'll sleep on it.  I'll wake up, tomorrow will be a new day, and I won't be such a party-pooper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-3905965796765570141?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/3905965796765570141/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=3905965796765570141" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3905965796765570141?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3905965796765570141?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/time-heals-all-wounds.html" title="Time Heals All Wounds" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UESHY8eCp7ImA9WxRVFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-8916079735430237133</id><published>2008-07-08T20:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T14:46:49.870-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-13T14:46:49.870-06:00</app:edited><title>Juggling</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHQWrmgvctI/AAAAAAAAAsw/r16bR0qCNCQ/s1600-h/juggling.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220822806357308114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHQWrmgvctI/AAAAAAAAAsw/r16bR0qCNCQ/s200/juggling.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some would say I am a professional juggler. Not the kind who juggles knives, fire, or lawn and garden tractors, but the kind who juggles LIFE. I have a full time job that I love, I work 8 hours a day everyday; I have a family that has a calendar full of activities and appointments; and I am a "nearly middle-aged" woman with hobbies, hopes, and dreams of her own that need attention. And in the face of too little time, too little money, and sometimes too little enthusiasm, I manage to "juggle" it all. Of course, the job, and the family always seem to come first. I suppose that is ok, considering that I have always been one to cater to the needs of others before my own. Yet, this morning, I was looking in the mirror and wondering where the time has gone. What happened to my dreams? Do I still have them? Yes. Are they still attainable? Well, possibly. I guess my dream of being a veterinarian or a brain surgeon (they are closely related professions) are both out of the question at this time in my life. By the time I got done with the schooling and residencies required, it would be necessary to switch my specialty to Geriatrics so that I would be able to diagnose my own aches and pains. Yes, I think that there is still time for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what do I dream about now? Good question, and not one that is easily answered. When I was younger, I had dreams of the important profession, one that would make me rich, famous, or both. I thought maybe I would be a doctor, a teacher, or a firefighter - just like any other kid dreams of. When I got a little older, I thought it would be great to go to college, and learn something useful - and still be rich, famous, or both. When I turned 21, I thought the best thing for me was to be married, and begin my family. At 25, my Tyler was born. At 27, MacKenzie. Then at 31 I divorced their father and tried to find myself once again. This time, as a single mom. At 33, I married my soul-mate - Larry. And now, at 40, I'm still wondering about my life and the course it is headed on. My dreams change yearly; my goals almost as frequently. I wonder if this is as good as it is going to get for me. I don't mean that in a negative way, I just wonder.&lt;br /&gt;I will keep juggling. I will juggle my job, my family and my dreams. I will continue on this path of self-discovery. I will see it all through to the very end.&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop questioning the "why" of this and that. I need to start asking questions that can be answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me:&lt;br /&gt;Run joyfully toward life and embrace it with open arms. Each day brings its own treasure in the flavors, aromas, sights, sounds, situations, experiences and interactions that come your way.&lt;br /&gt;Don't get bogged down attempting to resist or deny what has already happened. Put your energy into using what you have to make life better than ever.&lt;br /&gt;Embrace the beauty, the joy, the wonder and the abundance of life. At the same time, embrace the challenges, the setbacks, the disappointments and the difficulties.&lt;br /&gt;Be genuinely thankful for every moment, whatever it may contain. For in each moment is your opportunity to fully live, to grow, to learn, to experience, to share and to create unique, lasting value.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome the ever-changing richness of life as it dances before your eyes in ways you've never seen before. Join passionately in that dance and be a part of the richness.&lt;br /&gt;Follow the winding path as it moves up, down, over and around through the steadily increasing abundance and fulfillment of your life. Know more fully, as each moment passes, the profound joy of being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-8916079735430237133?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/8916079735430237133/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=8916079735430237133" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8916079735430237133?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8916079735430237133?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/juggling.html" title="Juggling" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SHQWrmgvctI/AAAAAAAAAsw/r16bR0qCNCQ/s72-c/juggling.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8GSHo4eip7ImA9WxRRGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-5530922626343124457</id><published>2008-07-05T17:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:53:49.432-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T19:53:49.432-05:00</app:edited><title>My Fireworks Part II</title><content type="html">In all of my self-centered fuming, I forgot to mention how much fun we had last night!  The 4th of July isn't truly the 4th of July unless it is spent with friends; people you love.  That is what I think I have enjoyed the most about my kids being involved in CRPC each summer - the number of people I have met, and the great friendships that have grown as a result. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent last night with Russ &amp;amp; Melissa, Joe &amp;amp; Terrie, and others; lots of kids, food, games, and a lot of just sitting around talking.  Karen and Amanda came too, making it that much more fun; and Tyler even brought along his "girlfriend," Victoria (this has to be some kind of summer crush thing, after all they are too young....blah blah blah). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to hang up my ping pong paddle for good after today.  I was nicely beaten big-time by Joe - thanks for the embarrassment, Buddy!  Maybe someday when I'm more focused, there will be a rematch and then - YOU ARE GOING DOWN!  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks provided the best ending; watched from a lawn chair on the golf course.  Granted, the fireworks were a ways off, but still beautiful just the same.  We did get a few pictures.  It was a nice night, not too hot, not too many bugs.  I love my friends.  I feel so fortunate to have them around me.  Especially in these uncertain times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh before I forget -- &lt;em&gt;Terrie, what color WAS that grasshopper?  :-)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-5530922626343124457?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/5530922626343124457/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=5530922626343124457" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5530922626343124457?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/5530922626343124457?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-fireworks-plot-thickens.html" title="My Fireworks Part II" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQBQXw7eip7ImA9WxRRGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-8285441116133635480</id><published>2008-07-04T13:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:45:50.202-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-01T19:45:50.202-05:00</app:edited><title>My Fireworks</title><content type="html">On numerous occasions I have used this blog as a sort of "anger management therapy;" a way to vent my frustrations; or just to let the entire world know just how pissed off I happen to be. This is one of those times, only this time, the only person/thing I'm pissed off at is myself. Yes, I have decided to turn the full power of my wrath onto that person in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not perfect; yes, I know that the mind reels at that revelation; I'm not even close!  I would like to think of myself as a good person.  I pay my taxes, I work my job, I raise my children to the best of my ability, I go to church, etc., etc.  Sometimes I wonder though, if I could just be, well, &lt;em&gt;better?  That is truly something to think about.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we will have to see. In the meantime -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY 4TH OF JULY&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-8285441116133635480?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/8285441116133635480/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=8285441116133635480" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8285441116133635480?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/8285441116133635480?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-fireworks.html" title="My Fireworks" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYHQ3g7fCp7ImA9WxdXE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-3252377267629619892</id><published>2008-06-24T21:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T21:48:52.604-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-24T21:48:52.604-05:00</app:edited><title>For You</title><content type="html">Lyrics to one of my favorite songs:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever You Come Around  --Vince Gill&lt;br /&gt;The face of an angel; pretty eyes that shine&lt;br /&gt;I lie awake at night wishing you were mine&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing here holding the biggest heartache in town&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get weak in the knees; and I lose my breath&lt;br /&gt;Oh I try to speak but the words won't come&lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared to death&lt;br /&gt;And when you smile the world turns upside down&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so helpless; I feel just like a kid&lt;br /&gt;What is it about you that makes me keep my feelings hid&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could tell you, but the words can't be found&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get weak in the knees; and I lose my breath&lt;br /&gt;Oh I try to speak but the words won't come&lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared to death&lt;br /&gt;And when you smile the world turns upside down&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you smile that smile&lt;br /&gt;The whole world turns upside down&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;Whenever you come around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you aren't familiar with this song, I suggest you find it and listen to it.  You'll understand then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-3252377267629619892?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/3252377267629619892/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=3252377267629619892" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3252377267629619892?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/3252377267629619892?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/06/for-you.html" title="For You" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cCSXk5fyp7ImA9WxdQGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5126216508497257353.post-1569184229445505873</id><published>2008-06-19T21:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T21:31:08.727-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-19T21:31:08.727-05:00</app:edited><title>2008 Flood</title><content type="html">I have been receiving pictures of the Cedar Rapids flooding via email just about everyday. As a scrapbook of sorts, my father put this slide show together. Watching this horrible event unfold both sickened, and enthralled me; it is an emotional rollercoaster that has taken me for a ride I would rather not go on again. The photographs show the horror of what the victims had to endure, yet they are some of the most beautiful depictions of our city that I have ever seen. I apologize for not recognizing the photographers that took the time to shoot these, but please know that your work has not gone unappreciated. It has been wonderful to see how the citizens of our wonderful city have pulled together to help one another. I truly believe that once we recover from this tragedy, we will be a stronger, closer, better, Cedar Rapids than ever before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5126216508497257353-1569184229445505873?l=caragilds.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="enclosure" type="video/mp4" href="http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b181bf7a19f1f3a6&amp;type=video%2Fmp4" length="0" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/feeds/1569184229445505873/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5126216508497257353&amp;postID=1569184229445505873" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/1569184229445505873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5126216508497257353/posts/default/1569184229445505873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://caragilds.blogspot.com/2008/06/2008-flood.html" title="2008 Flood" /><author><name>Cara Jo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15027492094780218731</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="31" height="22" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJvCjI6ZTuw/SO98FB1UERI/AAAAAAAAAxU/lMNzgxcZvu0/S220/quill.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>

