Rather Than Watching

I once told my dad that I wanted to be successful and his response was, “How do you define success?”

For a split second, that seems the easiest question in the world to answer, doesn’t it? Money equals success. Power equals success. Fame equals success. Or does it? When I first started Earthly Affair, my short term definition of success was to stop working for the man. I was going to leave those suckers behind and answer to the coolest boss in the world - ME! I would sleep until ten, sip Martini’s and chat with Martha (as in Martha Stewart) at noon, crank out a few awesome designs whenever I damn well felt like it, and then party in the A-T-L with the hubs by night.

Focusing on environmentally friendly wedding invitations, I found a niche that needed to be filled and in a resolve that surprised even myself, I confidently announced to my fiance (now husband) that creating my own business was something I had to do. So I worked. I worked hard. Shleppin’ it home from the day job only to work a few more hours every evening. Motivation came easier on the days I had to deal with another ridiculous comment from my boss. (In retrospect, I believe he had some sort of auditory processing disorder, but if I had to hear the word, “TITious” - not a joke, people - one more time, I was going to crack.) The blog was born in July of 2007 and Earthly Affair launched a boutique website in January of 2008. And by some odd moment of perfect alignment in the universe, the Milky Way must have decided to send me down some magic dust, because you know what!? It freakin’ worked! About two months and 40 orders later, I quit my job. Resignation letter = SUCCESS!

So minus the Martha Stewart part (still waitin’ on that call Martha!), life was pretty nice. I made decent money and didn’t have to answer to anyone. In addition to the sleeping in and going out though, there were customers that needed attending to, e-mails to be answered, marketing ideas to be hashed out, bills to be paid, bookkeeping to be done, projects to be managed, orders to be printed, orders to be shipped, articles to be written, photography that needed to be taken, etc… Some weeks I worked 25 hours, some weeks I worked 60 hours. Being a one man band isn’t always easy, but I learned so much, loved every minute of it, and more importantly I gained the confidence I will need to start my next venture (the plan for now is to hone my craft as an illustrator).

While I absolutely loved having my own business, I’ve decided to pass the Earthly Affair torch on and call it quits for a while. While money is nice, it’s not worth it when it comes at the expense of something priceless.* Ultimately, the birth of my baby girl changed my definition of success. Success is waking up with a loving husband by my side. Success is having family and friends that care about you. And success is spending time with those little beings we call offspring. I think I hit the jackpot.

*footnoting my own stuff here: I am so, so fortunate and grateful to my husband for not only being the sole breadwinner now, but for always supporting me.

I used to write a lot of fiction. Short snippets of stories and poems that I mainly kept to myself. At the time, I would either revel in my literary glory or berate myself for creating something so rudimentary. As a result though, most of my stories were left unfinished.

I have found that I operate this way in other parts of my life. Many of my ideas have only come to fruition in partial form. I have left so many pieces of artwork in a sad state of disarray. Rarely do I finish an entire sandwich, no matter how much I liked it. When I clean up, say the kitchen or the bedroom, I always leave something dirty, whether it be a stack of papers on the night stand or a grimy bowl in the sink, there is something too finalizing - a fear based on permanence which keeps me from moving forward.

(This really all stems from a fear of failing, as well as a fear of perfection, but this isn’t an introspective diatribe about emotional vulnerabilities.)

Anyway, this realization somewhat saddens me. I don’t plan on going back and finishing those stories, but sometimes my heart yearns to see them rounded out.

In the spirit of keeping with the theme of this post…

I have an extremely interesting post to write about how we often set out to follow one path in life, but end up following a completely different path instead. And how each path contains it’s own unique set of challenges and rewards. However, I cannot write this post now b/c Sophia is in my lap and, just like mommy, wants to be tap, tap, tappin’ at the keyboard too!

Have at it Sophie:

kfkelro

nnr, mmmm \

And with that very poignant statement, it’s time to sign off.  

So last Saturday I was at a Caribbean restaurant and one of the offerings was ox tail. It wasn’t a fancy place - it was sorta cafeteria style, but maybe a little nicer than your average Piccadilly with an added island vibe. I asked the girl behind the counter, “What’s ox tail taste like?” To which she responds, “It’s good. It tastes just like beef. Do you want to try a sample?”

A sample. Okay. Sure.

She takes a big spoon and needles her way around the bone, scooping out a sizable chunk of meat, which she then puts in a small plastic cup.

I wanted a fork, but I didn’t want to seem like a wimp. The lady was expectantly waiting for my inaugural ox tail experience. My husband was staring at me. Everyone was wondering how was this going to go down? I toss it back like a shot of vodka. Except I have to chew it. The slippery meat slides onto my tongue. I chew. I chew some more. It tastes…slimy. Minutes pass. They feel like hours. Oh god! This is not very tasty at all. YUCK! Must. Maintain. Composure. Finally, it’s gone.

I take a second to thank God for not gagging and I promptly say, “I’ll have the vegetarian dish, thank you.”