I do my best to focus on the good, to be mindful of gratitude, to keep it all positive. But life certainly isn’t all new boots and mojitos (I know that most people would use “sunshine and rainbows” or “something-or-other and unicorns,” but if I’m being honest, boots and really good mojitos, for me, are pretty sublime). Life can be tough, disappointing, and dreadful; it has been known to make me cry uncle, to wave a white flag, to bring me to my knees. A dear friend told me l ast week she was impressed by how I’m always happy. It was a lovely thing for her to say, but as I walked away I got to thinking, the accolade really isn’t mine. And it isn’t really happiness she was referring to. It’s joy. What’s the difference? Well, to always be happy would mean I’d always feel fortunate and cheerful and lucky. And that’s not true. There are definitely moments/days/weeks I’m not all that happy. Times when I have a lot on my mind, times when I may be quieter than normal, when I’m conce