I'm reading a book right now, "The Overstory" by Richard Powers which is about trees, those sentinent beings that play the long story and dwarf our own short stories.

I'm working on the positive, keeping my brain on an even keel, filling my own cup, blah, blah, blah.  It's hard work.  My husband said that it seems I must like being unhappy because that's where I go so often.  It's not that I like unhappy, it's that it's familiar.  Crisis followed by crisis, it's what I'm used to, not just at work but in my family as well.  It's the peace and quiet, the contenment that's hard to accept because it is so unfamiliar.

But I'm trying, my god, I'm trying.  And trees they help me the most, the sound of them, the color of them, the fact that they exist, all make me feel better and for that I am deeply thankful.