The Problem with Friends

I'm blessed with many good friends, and a handful of tight friends. Very tight friends. I'm also close with both of my parents and have grown closer to my sister over the past few years. There is no doubt that I have a solid support network. I'm lucky.

However, I've found that this support network can be both a blessing and a curse. Here is what I mean: I share a lot of my journey with my friends. They are invested and really want things to work out for me. When things don't work out, I have to go back and update all of my friends. If I don't, they eventually call me for an update. This is great when you have good news to report, because you get to report the news and relive the victory a dozen or more times. This is not so great when you have bad news to report, e.g. a miscarriage, a second miscarriage, your parents' separation, a break-up, or a failed embryo transfer, because you get to report the news and relive the pain a dozen or more times. As an added bonus, you also get to see the person who loves you get upset, feel bad for you, and then feel like shit because she can't fix it. Its like pouring a 1/2 cup of salt into an open wound - not fun.

So now I'm trying out a new strategy: what happens if you just keep everyone in the dark about what you're really doing and pretend nothing is going on? I'll get back to you on how well this works. What I have noticed is that you can only keep yourself in the dark for so long. Case in point: you wonder why you're eating everything that doesn't eat you first, and why your ass and thighs appear to be spreading like wildfire. Ah ha! its because you are pretending that nothing is going on in your life right now, and so instead you're eating your way through your pantry. Not pretty folks.

Kinahurra

In lieu of New Year's Resolutions, or a detailed, catalogued review of everything that went wrong/right in the past year, in 2009 I'm trying something novel. I am planning for 2009 to be a fan-freakin'-tastic year. (The Jewish grandmother in me worries that this is a kinahurra, but I'll spit over my shoulder and hope to be excused. )

To achieve this goal, I'm borrowing a little trick that I've used in my professional life for years, with great success. This trick is called 'faking it', and it goes a little something like this: show up, dress the part, act the part, people will buy it, and you eventually become it.

So far this year I've been playing the part that I'm irresistible to men. Its almost like I'm emitting a pheromone that makes men flock to me. Its raining men. Hallelujah. Sounds silly, right? Well, it is kind of silly, but I think there may be something to it --- I will report back when I have more data, but so far I've snagged an attorney and a contractor. I'm throwing both of them back, but the bait seems to be working.

The next trick in my book is that I'm expecting my career to take off in new, exciting, and highly-paid directions. I'm actually serious. Rock-star directions. I recently bumped my consulting fee up to $300/hour and was rather surprised when someone actually paid it (and this wasn't an Elliot Spitzer-type consultation - for that I charge at least $350/hour)

When you expect great things to happen, it almost seems like everything that happens is great. If not great, than maybe a step toward greatness. Rose-colored glasses again, I know. But really, wouldn't you rather peer through rosy glasses than sewer water?

Happiness on the Drop Down Menu

I've decided that happiness is a decision.

Sure, we all have bad days, bad weeks. Hell, I'd be willing to say that the last 18 months have slapped the hell out of me. And there are certainly some events that are hard to spin brightly, even with the best mix master at the wheel. But for the most part, happiness is a decision.

Case in point: the sister of a friend of mine always views her glass as half-empty. And the remaining liquid contains curdled milk. She had her dream wedding a few years ago, followed by her dream honeymoon. Then she and her betrothed took 3 months off (what??) and traveled across the country in an RV. Now to me, that sounds like hell on wheels, but to each his own. They then decided to have children and, BANG!, got pregnant right away with a healthy, beautiful child. They wanted to have more children soonafter and, BANG!, pregnant with twins. All decisions she made. And yet, she isn't happy and complains about having three children under three.

I realize that everyones' life looks clean and bright from a distance, particularly if you're standing outside looking in and can't hear the kids screaming, the dog barking, and the fat husband snoring. But at the same time, life is about making informed decisions and then throwing everything you have into making that path work. Looking back over your shoulder at the life you just passed will only contribute to making you very unhappy, while driving smack into the tractor trailer in front of you.

This week I had to put my adorable, stolen cat to sleep. It broke my heart and I bawled like a 10 year old girl in the vet's office and all the way home. Call it self-preservation, or call it choosing happiness, but I've decided to focus on the good things. I had that cat for three years and he was warm, safe and loved for those years after being in an abusive home. I knew he had kidney disease and he lived for two really good years after his diagnosis. It sucked rocks putting him to sleep, but now he isn't in pain and is hopefully in a better place. The coppers never caught me for cat-napping and I didn't spend any time in the slammer.

I bought myself a pair of rose-colored glasses and I plan to look through them as often as possible in 2009.

Red 22

I'm not a fan of uncalculated risks. I don't ride motorcycles. I always wear my seat belt. I floss every day.

However, and perhaps ironically, I am a big fan of calculated risks. I once quit a great job because my boss was not fulfilling his promise to find me adequate office space (he let me quit, and then called two days later and said he'd found the space). I've been para-sailing, scuba diving, and canopy swinging. I've boldly taken jobs I didn't know how to do, and moved to new cities where I knew not a soul. I've been on dozens of blind dates. I consider myself gutsy, but not stupid.

Many of these risks push me outside my comfort zone. And although I know and love my comfort zone, I also realize its important to step outside the padded room and take a healthy, calculated risk with a good chance of return now and then. I consider the inability to take the plunge when the cards look good a major liability in life.

Talk is cheap, but I had the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is recently. My mother was in town shopping for a condo near me in which she would reside part-time. This second residence would allow her to have a home near me and my sister, and would allow her to see and (let's be honest) help raise the grandchildren which are hopefully soon to come. Not what she ever thought she'd be doing at age 71, and not what I thought I'd be doing at age 39, but here we are.

We looked at several overpriced, underwhelming condos and were both disappointed. Then our realtor told us she had a nice ranch for us to view, and asked us to meet her at the tail end of an Open House the next day so she could walk us to the ranch.

We arrived at the Open House with 15 minutes to spare and it was immediately apparent that this property was all wrong for my mother -- lots of stairs, views of the ocean, not appropriate for a part-time property. And yet I was mesmerized, "This is amazing. This is amazing. This is amazing." The realtor slyly suggested, "You could always buy this place, and your mother could buy yours."

Ding! Ding! Ding!

But I'm not in the market for a new property. But this place has lots of stairs. But I never thought I'd shell out money for a water view. But I'd have to MOVE!!!

And yet, it just felt right. I could picture myself in this new condo. My mother was more excited about living in my familiar space than in a new condo she didn't know. This was a one in a million opportunity. And, although I like to squirrel my money away like acorns for an eternal winter, I could afford this place.

When a great, calculated risk comes along -- be it a relationship, a job, an investment, or a new home --- and it offers a substantial chance of gain, you've got to take it. Its uncomfortable, its scary, and its terribly exciting. At that moment you have to take all of your chips, put them on Red 22, and spin the wheel. And that my friends, is why I just purchased a new home.