And For My Next Number . . .

Trying to decide what you want to do with the next half (alright, third - I passed the halfway mark a little while ago) of your life is exhausting. Every now and then I look through full-time job ads trying to decide if I really want to re-join the ranks of commuters who fall into a coma in front of the TV after a ten hour day at the office. No thanks. I'm more intrigued by the possibility of working from home but who doesn't fantasize about collecting a paycheck while decked out in a pair of comfy pajamas? I've always said I'd rather clean toilets with a toothbrush (not my own, mind you) than earn a living as a telemarketer (something about all that rejection) so that's out. But my nephew has actually found a way to make a living writing for an educational website so I know there are other options. I just need to get myself in gear and go out and track those suckers down.

And there's the problem.

When my dad retired he said he wanted to use his time to grow spiritually, emotionally and physically; he wanted to learn new things, travel, volunteer. I'm not retired yet but I couldn't agree more. This is the time of my life when I don't have to worry about taking care of anyone but me (and my very neglected husband). This is the time in my life when I should be doing everything I can to make my dreams come true. I've feel proud to have checked off writing a book and blessed to have finally stepped on Italian ground (but that's never going to be off the list) so now it's time to see what else is left in the tank.

And there's the other problem.

If I had half my husband's drive and determination, I know I would be on The New York Times best-seller list by now. If I had one-quarter of his ability to organize and implement ideas (Excel and I are acquainted but I rarely keep in touch), I'd be on my way to my first million. If I had one-tenth of his innate know-how about making connections, setting deadlines, and promoting oneself, I wouldn't be sitting here writing a blog with nine followers (not that I don't appreciate each and every one of you); I would be networking and Twittering my little fanny off to work my way up to double, or maybe even triple, digits.

But I can't give up hope. I have to keep plugging away; chipping away at those goals that seem so unattainable. I have to find a way to conquer the fear and insecurity (and, yes, laziness) that throw me off track.

And I can't forget about my secret weapon; that guy with enough ambition for both of us.

With his (and God's) help, I'm counting on being able to turn this second act into something worth writing about.