Do you believe there is an upside to everything?

Does everything really happen for a reason?

And, if we accept our circumstance, does that make us defeated or progressive in our thinking?

Just a few things I pondered this weekend made for an interesting glimpse of what I think the year ahead will entail (but I’m only guessing, of course.)

Friday night brought work around the house. After a week of handyman frustrations (he somehow managed to nab an added $150 on top of his original quote) and a host of meetings for the new business and errands (oh, how I hate errands – I’m hiring a personal assistant, a driver and a full time house manager with my first million), I had little energy for the house. But it needed my attention, so Rob and I set out puttying, scrapping and sanding late into the night in preparation for our painters this morning, who are in our house right now, brush-stroking away the remnants of the previous owners. (I’m not sure if we’re renovating out their ghosts or just making our mark, like dogs on a hydrant.)

Our painters arrived 20 minutes early this morning and I threw on whatever was laying on the floor – college dorm-style – and I’m still wearing those clothes right now, as I type from a coffee shop because there is no cable or Internet at my house this week and because I refuse to let a little thing like technology and paint stand in my way. In short, I’m getting things done, which is what I think 30 will look like.

…anyway.

Saturday morning and afternoon were spent collecting flag stones for our backyard, which we plan to install in the fall, when things are dead and less irritatingly overgrown, but we’ll see (I have my sights set on a small, fall vacation to absolutely nowhere special, but it will be quiet there, so I’m looking forward to it). The evening had us dining with two good friends, a married couple, K&L, who recently celebrated their one-year anniversary. Their wedding was beautiful and, as L told me, marriage seems to be agreeing with them. There’s a certain kind of confidence, she said, that comes once the wedding vows are made, the cake is cut and the dress is stashed safely in a closet somewhere, only to be pulled out for wearing on future birthdays; for some, there is an exhale that comes along with signing on the dotted line of love. I just listened to her, I was intrigued. I respect women who can say these things out loud and simply enjoy the fruits of a committed relationship without feeling like they have to explain themselves. That’s L. She’s very sure marriage is for her.

As for this post, well, I’m not quite sure why I’m running through the mundane nuances of my weekend, other than to tell you it was a productive one. We dined with friends, talked marriage (always an interesting topic to me), renovated and ran errands (much to my dismay), which made me realize that this is what my year to 30 is shaping up to be: PRODUCTIVE.

As I approach 31 this time next year, I’ll be out to dinner with friends or at a bar, enjoying a stiff Manhattan, and someone who knows about my age-obsession will ask me: “So how was your 30th year, Sandy?” and I’ll just say something all cool and collected like,  ”it was productive, actually.”

Yep, this is shaping up to be a year of making things happen – from renovations to business plans to launching that one big idea and making time to get to know new sides of old friends, there is a change happening inside me that is making me work faster, harder, better. And yes, it’s even making me a bit softer – I’m less harsh and temperamental than I was at 25, but no less ambitious. I’m more confident and sure about things (although I’m still working on confidence every day. I think I always will) and know when I don’t want something. It’s taken me a while to get here, but I like this new place.

I guess that’s the upside of getting older – the things you want start to dawn on you a bit more and the things that are useless you’re quick to dispose of: negative friends, old jobs and senseless ways of thinking. When what you want starts to become clearer, you wake up (or at least I do) with a sickish feeling in your stomach – a combination of anxiety for just wanting things to happen and a renewed sense of urgency that you’re not quite sure what to do with, but somewhere figure out how to make it work for you. I wake up like that everyday and I like it… finally.

“Your work is never done, is it?” Rob asked me last night, as I got off the phone with a wonderful woman I’m hosting an event with here in Toronto. “Nope” I replied, “and it’s only just beginning.”

Productive.

That’s the end of my 20s. So far.