Tag Archives: happiness

Home is Where the Heart Is

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So good to be home.

I was away for about two months, on a frost contract in Woodland, CA near Sacramento.

When I moved my “mobile mansion” south in the middle of February, I was actually glad to be getting away from the Wenatchee area. I’d just spent my first winter back in a cold climate after about 15 Arizona winters. The short days combined with an amazing amount of fog — of all things — had made me kind of glum. Even though I’d was very comfortable with a house-sitting gig near my own home, I was ready for a break that included warm weather.

So when the frost control job in the Sacramento area materialized again this year with better standby pay coupled with the requirement to actually remain in the area for the duration, I jumped at it. I was heading south with my RV before the end of February and settled in at Watts-Woodland Airport by February 25.

Me in a Balloon
My hot air balloon flight was a highlight of the trip.

I had a great time in the Sacramento area. Daytime temperatures ranged from 60°F to 84°F with nighttime temperatures seldom dipping below 40°F. We were only put on call for possible frost flying once in 42 days. If my contract had been the same as the one I had in 2013, I would have taken a financial hit. But this contract paid better for standby so I was actually better off if I didn’t have to fly. So it was a win-win.

In fact, in a way it was like an all-expense-paid vacation with a bonus at the end.

I did a lot while I was there — kayaking in the American River and Putah Creek, hiking in the hills and in Muir Woods, ballooning, joy-flying in the helicopter, wine tasting in Napa Valley, whale watching, hosting friends, making new friends, visiting San Francisco. I even learned to fly a gyroplane. I blogged a bit about some of these things (follow the links) but not as much as I would have liked to — I was just too darn busy to sit down and write much!

Gyro Solo
I learned to fly this gyro in 6 days, soloing after just 7 hours of flight time. I’m now thinking a bit more seriously about a fixed wing rating.

Still, before March month-end, my Wenatchee area clients started calling, asking when I’d be back. They had places to go, things to photograph. The damage to the Wanapum Dam and the draining of the lake above it had all the locals wanting to see the river from the air. There was flying to do when I got home.

There was also a home to be built. I’d been sitting on plans for what’ll basically be a custom garage with living space for more than a year and had given the green light to the builder before heading south. They were planning on an April 30 start date. Some earth work needed to be done and I wanted to be there for the entire process.

So by the first week in April, I was anxious to get home.

I said my farewells to new friends and headed out with the RV in tow on Sunday morning, April 13. By sunset, I was parked in a very nice campsite on the Columbia River in Maryhill State Park, enjoying a full hookup and a full moon.

The next day, I continued on to Wenatchee, less than 4 hours away. I dropped my RV off at the local RV fixit place — the gas furnace had been misbehaving and wound up needing a circuit board — and drove the rest of the way up to my 10 acres of view property in Malaga.

Everything was just as I’d left it. I offloaded my bees, setting them up on a palette near where they’d lived before our trip south and took stock of the things I’d need to do to finish moving back in.

Then I went down to the valley and ran errands until 6 PM, when the RV was ready. After a quick hook up, we made the 20-minute drive back up the hillside and down the 2 miles of improved gravel road to my lot. It took a few moves to get the RV back in place beside the septic system connection, where I’d left the water and power lines waiting for me. Within an hour — including time spent chatting with a neighbor — I had everything all hooked up.

Moonset
I might have missed the eclipse Monday night, but I did catch the moon setting behind the cliffs from my home early this morning.

I really enjoyed seeing the lights of the city spread out before me that evening. It was mostly cloudy so I missed the eclipse, but I was too darn tired after my long trip and the setup to stay up anyway. I slept like a log.

The next few days were spent doing taxes — I always wait until the last minute — finishing setup, moving things in and out of storage, running errands, and meeting up with friends and contractors. Yesterday was overcast and rather cold — I could swear it was snowing up at Mission Ridge, which I can see from my place. I got home from errands by 6:30 and there was still plenty of light to watch a storm move in and the clouds descend over Wenatchee Heights and down toward Stemilt Hill. The sun broke through periodically, bathing the cliff walls north of me with a golden light.

Magic.

I lounged on the sofa with a book, relaxing with Penny on my lap. I think that’s when I first started to realize how good it felt to be home. And when I started to get really excited about the project ahead of me — building my dream home in a place I love.

This morning dawned mostly clear with crisp, clean air on a strong breeze. As I sat at the table with my coffee, writing in my journal, I looked up to see the valley washed in the golden hour light. I stepped outside with my camera for a few shots.

Morning from Cathedral Rock
I shot this photo from the steps of my RV this morning with my Nikon. This is uncropped, shot with a zoom lens set to 46mm (per Photoshop). I can’t tell you how good it feels to know that I’ll be able to see something like this every day right from my home.

I started having second (or third or fourth or fifth) thoughts about where I was putting my building. The builder and I had set corner stakes in February, before I left. (The last time I positioned a building, I’d wished I’d done it differently. But that was supposed to be a temporary building; not the only building on the property. And it’s now pretty much abandoned, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.) I wanted to get it right because it couldn’t be changed once the construction began. So I walked out to the building site with my coffee cup in hand and stood on the ground beneath where one of my bedroom windows would be. I looked out over the valley, reminding myself that I’d be about 12 feet higher when I was looking through a window or standing on the deck that would soon be above me.

And I liked what I saw: a beautiful, unobstructed view down toward Wenatchee and the Columbia River, with nothing but orchards and grasslands and scattered homes and mountains as far as the eye could see.

Home Sweet Home
I shot this image with my phone as I drove off to meet a friend for breakfast this morning. My home will be built to the left of the shed, beyond the frame of this photo.

I went inside to finish my coffee and journal entry.

A while later, my phone rang. It was Bob, one of the friends who’d called and texted me repeatedly while I was gone, just to catch up. That morning, he was looking for a companion for breakfast out. I said yes (of course) and hurried to get dressed, thinking about the warm hug I’d get when I saw him.

It was good to be home.

On Luck

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Does it even exist?

“You’re so lucky that you can work at home.”

“You’re so lucky that you can fly for a living.”

“You’re so lucky you can live in such a beautiful place.”

These are things I’ve heard multiple times from people I’ve met in my day-to-day life. They all seem to think that luck plays a major role in my life and lifestyle.

I can’t tell you how much it bothers me when people tell me this. Luck has nothing to do with it.

In my mind, luck is something that comes into play when you win a lottery. That’s pure luck. After all, no skill is required; nothing you can do — other than buy a lottery ticket — can change the odds of winning.

I’ve tried, in the past, to explain this to people without sounding rude. My problem, I guess, is that because I’m a writer I take words very literally. And I really can’t help feeling offended when someone attributes various benefits of my hard work to “luck.”

This past summer, my good friend Cheryl shared something her father used to say:

There’s no such thing as magical “luck.” It’s when preparation meets opportunity.

I’ll take that a step farther. The benefits often attributed to luck happen when opportunity is recognized and acted upon.

So preparation leads to opportunity which leads to benefits.

An Example: My Writing Career

Let’s look at my “luck” in becoming a freelance writer.

Dreams don’t work unless you do.

I prepared by learning to write, which I did by being an avid reader and practicing writing for many years. I saw opportunities: the first being to write an article for a professional organization. Despite the lack of monetary compensation, I took advantage of the opportunity and got my first published clip. That, in turn, was part of my preparation to move forward as a writer.

As opportunities presented themselves, I seized them, kind of like a relay racer seizes the baton and runs with it to hand it off to the next person in the race — or take it over the finish line. Step-by-step, opportunity-by-opportunity, I climbed the ladder of success in a writing career. The benefits — advances, royalties, a smattering of fame, and the flexible lifestyle I’ve enjoyed for the past 23 years — were the rewards of this preparation-opportunity chain.

The preparation was my effort to move forward. Preparing book proposals, contacting editors and publishers, learning new software, spending money on computers and other equipment I needed to get the job done. Seizing the opportunities meant getting the work done as needed by the people who hired me within the time limits they specified.

I don’t see much “luck” here, do you?

Another Example: My Flying Career

Although I never intended to fly for a living, I did prepare for such a career by simply learning to fly. It was a lot of work and even more expense. There’s no luck involved in becoming a pilot.

When I realized that I liked to fly and needed to do it for money to keep doing it at all, I began preparing for a career as a pilot. More training, another certificate, more expense. Practice, practice, practice. Time-building. Applying for a job to get more varied experience. Working that job to meet my employer’s needs.

Buying a larger helicopter. Working with the FAA to get Part 135 certification. Advertising, marketing. Answering the phone and learning which jobs would move me forward. Being open to weird suggestions — like spending the summer in Washington state to hover over cherry trees after it rains. Expanding on that seized opportunity to grow my client base.

Do you see any “luck” here?

You Make Your Own Luck

Your life is a result of the choices you make.
If you don’t like your life, it’s time to start making better choices.

I’ve often heard wise people say, “You make your own luck.” This is what these people are talking about: preparation and seizing the resulting opportunities.

There’s no reward without risk. That’s something I’ve learned.

My writing career never would have gotten off the ground if I didn’t take the risk of leaving my full-time job in corporate America to write a 4-1/2 day course about using computers for auditing. And I never would have gone beyond that first big project if I hadn’t worked hard to prepare for other opportunities.

My flying career never would have taken off (pun intended) if I didn’t take the risk of spending all that money on flight training or spending even more money on a helicopter that would help me prepare for opportunities. Or take the risk of leaving my home for a few months each summer to seize an opportunity that made my business thrive.

The only thing standing between you and your goal is the bullshit story you keep telling yourself as to why you can’t achieve it.

Too many people don’t understand this. Too many people seem to think that they can achieve success through luck or wishful thinking. It doesn’t happen. And then, when they don’t move forward in the direction they want to go, they make excuses for why they don’t. Bad luck.

Bullshit.

You are in charge of your destiny.

A smart man once told me that if you want something in life you need to make it happen. That man’s gone now, dead and buried. But even today, his words are the ones that drive me to move forward in my life.

What’s driving you?

Postponing Happiness

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Could it be true?

LifeThe other day, I spent some time with a friend of mine who just happens to be a psychology intern at the local hospital. We talked at length about some of the things I’ve gone through in the past few years. Recent events have left me concerned that I might be suffering from PTSD from something seriously weird that happened to me when I worked at the Grand Canyon in 2004. My friend has been helping me work through those concerns, as well as the pain I still feel, over a year later, from my ex-husband’s betrayal and subsequent abuse.

My friend seems to think that I changed after the June 10, 2004 event. She thinks it affected my personality. But although that was a long time ago and my memory isn’t too clear, I disagree. While I admit that I thought about the event every single day for years afterward, I don’t think it made me a different person — at least not on the outside. It didn’t change my dreams and goals; it just made me angry. (Apparently, more angry than I realized.) Sadly, the only person I could talk to about a possible personality change back then — my wasband — isn’t allowed to talk to me anymore. (His new mommy won’t let him. Either that or he’s simply too ashamed of what he’s done to our lives to face me.)

What did change my personality, however, was the illness and subsequent death of my friend Erik. Erik’s sudden illness hit my hard; it made me realize that life can be taken from you at any time and that it was important to do what you wanted to do as soon as you could. Waiting for retirement was idiotic — I knew that better than ever before.

Meanwhile…

As I shed debt, my wasband accumulated it. He bought a condo in Phoenix with a huge monthly maintenance fee as the housing market went into decline; the monthly payments on that were more than our house mortgage payments. He bought a Mercedes sedan he didn’t need. He used the home equity line of credit for overdraft protection on his own personal checking account for years, thus increasing its balance by thousands of dollars while I was paying it down. He was a slave to his job — which he hated — because of the debt he kept building. In the 20-20 vision of hindsight, I realize that he resented me because I had more free time to do the things I wanted to. He didn’t understand that I had that freedom because I simply didn’t have such a huge debt burden forcing me to work harder or longer than I wanted to.

As for his promise to join me on the road…well, that was one of his many empty promises, something he told me to give me hope without actually doing anything to make a positive change in our lives. His 55th birthday came and went; my reminders of his promise were met with new promises that were also broken. I think the broken promises hurt almost as much as the lying and cheating that came later.

I explained all this to my friend, telling her about how the sudden urgency I felt about living my life changed what I did. At the time, I was working two careers — as a writer and a pilot — and was struggling in both, working harder than I ever wanted to and having little time off. I explained how I realized that debt ties us to jobs we don’t really like or want — or, in my situation as a freelancer and business owner, working harder than we want to on jobs we do like — making us slaves. The solution was easy: get out of debt. I stopped buying expensive things I didn’t need, concentrated on investing in my business, and paid all credit card balances in full every month. I made extra payments toward our mortgage and the home equity line of credit to pay them off quicker.

I also told her about the promise my husband had made to me back in 2006, right around the time we married after 23 years together: that when he turned 55, he’d leave his job and join me on the road half the year, spending the summer doing work with my helicopter in a place we could avoid Arizona’s brutal summer heat. One of my business investments had been for a 5th wheel RV, the “mobile mansion,” that was big enough for both of us and our dog. We’d work together and play together all summer long. He’d be able to chase down some of his dreams with the free time we had every winter back in Arizona.

Out of the blue, my friend suggested that I was postponing my happiness.

Of course, I denied it — a knee-jerk reaction to the suggestion. Postponing my happiness? How could I be? After all, I’m happy now. I’m living in a beautiful place I love, surrounded by friends. My business is doing surprisingly well — even in this economy at this time of year — and I have plenty of free time to enjoy the activities I like: hiking, wine tasting, writing, making a new home on a blank slate of 10 acres of my own land.

But then she reminded me about how I’d worked so hard to get my finances in order. Had I been happy then? I thought about it. I told her I was laying the ground work for the future. Besides, I was waiting for my husband to join me.

“Exactly,” she said. “Postponing happiness.”

There was nothing I could say to deny that.

“What about now?” she asked me. “What are you doing to postpone your happiness?”

I could think of just one thing: delaying the construction of my new home. But there were reasons for that and there was nothing I could do to change them. I had to wait.

In the meantime, I was working on my land, settling in my bees, making a pathway, prepping for next season’s garden, planting wildflower seeds. I had friends over for dinner at least once or twice a week. And I did lots of other things that made me happy, including getting out with friends and traveling.

I knew that I wasn’t happy when I was married. I knew that my wasband was part of that problem — during that last year we were together, he was never happy and he seemed to constantly disapprove of anything I wanted to do. I knew that in that last year, my happiest times were the times I was away from home, in Washington, free to do the things I wanted to do when I wanted to do them. Free from the man who seemed to try so hard to make me feel guilty about my life decisions and the happiness they gave me.

I’d never thought of my marriage as something that was postponing my happiness, but it so obviously was.

So the question remains: am I still postponing my happiness? I don’t think I am. But her suggestion has planted a seed in my mind. You can bet I’ll be thinking about it in the months to come.