Exposure

If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is to be straight with people. Tell them how you feel, be honest, and regardless of the outcome, take your medicine like a grown up. Why is it then, that although I know this is the right thing to do, I cannot manage to live by it. Telling the ones I care about how I feel has never been the problem.; I can do that with the best of them. My feelings for the ones I love are worn proudly on my sleeve. One only need to look at my face and read my expression to know what kind of mood I'm in. I do not hide my emotions well; whether they be happy or sad.
Honesty really isn't a problem for me either, but it can be a relative term. I always tell the truth, but sometimes not the whole truth. Maybe I want to be open and honest, but I don't want the other person to think me too forward, or too direct. I want to protect the ones I care about the most. I want to protect them from these powerful emotions that sometimes overwhelm and often expose me. I guess I think that if I keep some of the facts to myself, they will not think of me as ... well... obsessive. I do that...I obsess over things that I cannot control. You would think given my superior intellect (ha! that's funny right there!) that I would just leave the things I cannot control to God and move on, but sometimes I really have a hard time with that.
There are people (friends and family) in my life that have made such an impact on me that I have difficulty expressing it, and sometimes in my quest for emotional release, I come on a little bit too strong.
What I'm trying to say (and perhaps poorly) is that I appreciate all of those who have touched my life.
You have laughed with me, cried with me, stood beside graves with me.
You have been a source of inspiration, of guidance, and of light.
You have filled me to overflowing with love, with faith, and with hope.
You have held me, rocked me, and loved me.
You have sang with me, walked with me, and screamed with me.
You have prayed with me, for me, and about me.
You have stood, worked, and learned beside me.
You have led me, followed me, and carried me.
You have comforted me, fought with me, and taught me.
You are my family...
...my friends...
...my teachers...
...my soul mates...
I LOVE YOU - and that IS the truth

One Chapter Closes...Another Opens

I had an average kind of day yesterday; I got up, I worked, I came home. Of course there were things in between, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then, I got the mail.

There was an envelope there from the school I go to - college that is. It was a plain, brown envelope, with a clasp - again, nothing out of the ordinary, but I couldn't figure it out. I opened it and inside was a folder. Not just an average folder though. It was black, shiny, and on the front had the name of my school in gold lettering. I opened it, and inside it read:

On the recommendation of the Faculty and under the authority of the Iowa Department of Education, and the College Board of Trustees, Kirkwood Community College hereby confers the two year degree

Associate of Arts

upon

Cara J. Gilds

Who has satisfactorily fulfilled all the requirements prescribed by the college for this degree.

Given at Cedar Rapids, Iowa, this month of May 2007.

Whoa! I was totally not expecting this right now! Interestingly enough, the date on this is May of this year, so that tells me that I was qualified to graduate this past Spring! I am ecstatic! I am the first of my siblings to get a college education. I am planning to take what I have learned and transfer to Mt Mercy College here in town so that I can get my Bachelors degree in Business. I will graduate by the spring of 2009. I am on my way and it is a really good feeling!

Lexie

As everyone knows, things have been in turmoil for me in recent months. Especially regarding
my health. As a result, my stress level is high, my relaxation level is low, and my temper is just short of blowing a fuse at any given moment. Anything and everything can set me off; if the kids leave a light on, finding dirty clothes in the hallway, or a wet towel on the bathroom floor. Even Larry can also be on the receiving end of my wrath, and all he has to do is ask, "Can you (do something) for me?" That is all it takes; my eyes burn with the fire of the ages, my forked tongue slithers out of my thinly lined mouth like a snake's, and my fingernails turn to sharpened claws ready to tear flesh from bone. Of course, they all know that my bark is worse than my bite as I do not have the energy to skin a chicken, let alone tear flesh from bone.

A few months ago, we were visiting my friend Karen who lives up the street. It was movie night at their house and as we all sat on the living room floor, enjoying popcorn and each other's company, Karen's 3 year-old yellow Labrador Retriever, Callie, sat close beside me, welcoming the attention I was giving her. If the petting stopped, Callie would look at me with eyes the color of burnt sugar, a true sad-puppy-dog expression on her face. Then, when the petting resumed, she would sigh a deep sigh as she relaxed beneath my touch once again. I looked at Larry and said, "I want a puppy." "No dogs," was his simple reply. This was how the conversation went until about 3 weeks ago.

Again, we were with Karen and Amanda at their home (they have more room than we do), and I was on the deck throwing a tennis ball to Callie who was psychotically fetching it and begging for more. I was explaining to Karen what was going on with me medically. I was sad, feeling sorry for myself, and wondering why this was happening to me. At that moment it was all about me, and frankly, I was tired of it. Callie brought me the tennis ball, wanting me to throw it for her once again. I looked into her eyes, and there, staring up at me, were the eyes of a soul so comforting, showing me that true love CAN be unconditional, and all I had to do was throw the ball. I looked at my husband and said, "Now that I'm sick, I'm getting a puppy." He simply smiled at me and said nothing. I resolved that the next day, I would begin my search for a puppy of my own. A black or yellow Lab, female, about 8 weeks old. I wanted one that I could train myself, that didn't already have hang ups or issues.

On October 3rd, Larry sent me at email at work that told me he and Steve (a guy he works with and a friend of ours) were going to visit Steve's dad to look at a turf problem that he had been having in his lawn. Larry said that he would be late getting home. I told him to just do what he had to do and told him that my mom was planning to come over to visit. It was no big deal, as Larry has done this kind of thing before. That night at about 8:30, he got home. Surprisingly, Steve came in the house first. I greeted him warmly as always, and then I realized that he had a "friend" with him. A small, black, Labrador puppy followed him into the house and started sniffing around. Now, Steve has two young sons, so immediately, I said, "Oh Steve! Did you get a new puppy?" He smiled and said to me, "No...YOU did." It took a moment for those words to sink in. I did? Where was Larry? He was standing out in the yard with a big box containing a huge wire kennel. Sure enough, the puppy was MINE. She was a female, 9 weeks old, and I had naming rights.

Her name is Lexus. Yes, after the car. Why? Well, she is shiny and black and reminded me of a shiny black Lexus LS460. We call her Lexie unless she is being naughty. The vet said that she is already 20 lbs., and that she would probably top out at about 70. She is beautiful, with a smooth coat and little black eyes. Her face is just perfect and I love how she searches my face, trying to understand what I'm telling her. She has been a godsend to me. Larry says that I have perked up since she came home with him and I would have to agree. She is a new light in the darkness for me; as corny as that may sound. She makes me smile with her little bark, and her constant wiggling.

My husband's love is apparent in all he does. I never went into detail with him about what kind of puppy I wanted. He just knew. He just wanted to make me happy again.

Thank you, Honey.
From me and Lexie