I remember the first time I had Zabaglione with work colleagues in Toronto. This delectable custard-like Italian dessert made with egg yolks and sweet wine was the epitome of sophistication to my naive young eyes. In the afterglow of a delicious, multi-course chef-prepared dinner with my brilliant radio producer colleagues, I luxuriated in my excitement and place. I had arrived.

Fast forward forty years. Mid-career, I remember how rare the sort of night I had last night was. No dinner plans or evening events to attend. Nowhere to go or make an appearance “for career reasons.” No early morning meeting to prep for. No waste of the precious hours before bedtime consumed with worry about the work week ahead.

We ordered a half-and-half pizza. All meat for him. Hawaiian for me. And yet again, the debate about whether or not pineapple belonged on a “real” pizza pie. Whatever. I want what I want. Given the explosion of take-out gastronomical choices these days, a heated discussion about the pros and cons of pineapple on pizza was pretty tame. Imagine. Having pizza and beer and it wasn’t even the weekend.

As we get older, we get to have more of these “nights in.” Presumably, we have enough coin to splurge on a pizza and beer occasionally during the week. More importantly, we now have enough time. We also have the perspective to look back and realize how good we’ve got it.

I sometimes laugh with chagrin at how taken-for-granted simple pleasures were when we were young. I also laugh because we thought bigger and better things were perpetually in store for us. Pizza and beer were “just” pizza and beer. Important business dinners ahead, perhaps. Plans to go to a new and trendy restaurant where all the “In” people hung out. I no longer take simple pleasures for granted.

At one time, we absorbed the reported goings-on at Studio 54 in New York City like thirsty camels. The cachet of stories about “beautiful people” and the “in-crowd” and everyone there being “on trend.” Those who mattered had “access.” Those without “access” didn’t matter at all. These are among the oldest rules of sales and marketing. Make things you wish to sell both alluring and inaccessible. Desire is key.

All of this comes to mind as we repeatedly see people caught up in and falling for the same old razzle-dazzle about chasing “the good life” and what that means. Can fake eyelashes and fingernails get any longer? Can bling get any blingier? Not to mention, the cars, the clothes, and the Grey Goose.

I’ve finally figured out that the good life is what we decide we want it to be. We seem to inevitably fall back on the old standards for happiness eventually. Good friends and good company. A warm and supportive family (whether of blood or of friends). People we like and trust. And the usual menu of adequate financial resources to stave off worry and want, good health, little pain (emotional or physical), and something to look forward to each day.

As I watch the ceaselessly striving today, it saddens me. The brass ring they are chasing is more ill-defined and elusive than it ever has been. The ultimate question becomes, when is enough? I have seen many and even been one of those people who got what they wanted only to regret what they had wished for. Or wondered if getting what I thought I wanted was worth what it actually cost.

It calls on us to regularly check in on our lives for our level of happiness and self-satisfaction. A form of emotional maintenance. Are we doing what we love and feeling well most of the time? Are those we love and look out for doing and feeling well, too? If not, why not?

It is a call to keep an eye on what is fundamentally important to us. We then need to protect what that is. For me, the end-state I sought was inner peace and contentment. Enough challenges and projects to keep life interesting, of course, but to steer well away from that which threatened to upend or derail my state of calm. I wanted people in my life whom I could love and who would love me. I was once not at all sure that could happen.

Fingers crossed that my apple cart is not upset without warning, If it is, I rest easy in that conviction that if the unthinkable happens, I am better prepared to weather those storms than I once was. I just need to hold fast to the mast.

The question I often asked when I was younger was what is enough? I am grateful to have landed in a place in my life where I can look around me and say with gratitude: this. More important is being able to appreciate the good in the life I am living while I am living it. That’s progress in my little world.