The past few weeks Mom and I have been watching biographies. It has been so heart warming to see the love stories of Ruth and Billy Graham and John and June Carter Cash to name a few. I asked Mom why it was that so few people in the world find that one true love and get to spend decades with them. It doesn't seem quite fair to me. Her answer was that perhaps I had already found mine. I asked where he was and she said maybe, just maybe, I wasn't aware of him. That seemed like a pretty good answer to me.

I'm a little out of sorts with myself. I feel like there are things I ought to be doing but at the same time I feel as if they really need to be put off. It's like I'm Lazarus' sister Mary. My time is better spent with my family rather than cleaning everything spotless.

I'm also out of sorts because I feel so out of synch. It's like so many things are being controlled by other people or outside circumstances. I feel like the victim again. I've got to tell you that I've got some heavy duty resentments forming. It's hard to trust people who say something then take it back or promise something and fail to fulfill it. I feel like I'm surrounded by alcoholics.