happiness is...

Last month, I watched Stefan Sagmeister share his thoughts on happiness. I admire him greatly as a designer, and thoroughly enjoyed his talk, if you happen to have 15 minutes to spare, watch it, it is so funny and allows you to reflect on your own feelings of happiness.

I have compiled a short list of times in my life when I can remember being truly happy:
1990-1994: my three best friends in highschool (rowing and band)
1996: living in ann arbor
1997: switching my major from pre-med to art
1998: travelling across the country
1999: senior portfolio show
1999: going to paris for the summer
2000: getting my first design job
2002: moving to Chicago
2003: getting my first apartment
2006: having Ethan
2008-present: taking a huge leap of faith and taking a year to re-build my life

There are countless memories that make me smile and I am forever grateful to the small group of friends and family who have loved me unconditionally throughout the years. It is a tough thing to come by, I feel like the older I get, the less chances there are of finding like minded people to engage and build a relationship with. Not to say that it doesn't happen, but the opportunities become less frequent as does the time and energy it takes to maintain them.

That said, the relationship that I am in now, only gets better. We have our ups and our downs but seem to have reached a comfortable state of good. I don't always know why, but B loves me completely and is dedicated to the life that we share together. And it is one of those things that sometimes vexes me but at the same time makes me incredibly happy. And in the grand scheme of things, it is what matters most.

Two Ethanisms (things pertaining to and are anecdotal of my very adorable three year old son):
1. The other week, upon being asked how many languages he spoke, Ethan gleefully responded uno.
2. When we returned from a late night of fireworks, I put Ethan down in his bed. Unbeknowst to me, I left my purse in his room by his bed. Upon awaking the next morning, Ethan was suspiciously late to come in. And when he finally made his appearance, he was covered in streaks of lipstick. On his bed, were the entire contents of my purse with every lipstick and chapstick open and smeared liberally on his wall, with remnants on his bathroom towel (evidently, there was an attempt to clean it off his face). Endearing but with a cautionary warning, that if they are quiet for too long, they are probably up to something.