I know of a man who had accumulated such wealth he had a home on each coast, a wine selection so vast as to get a small country intoxicated not to mention a line of colognes named after each of his ex-wives. His net worth is more than I care to mention and he could quite easily live in the lap of luxury for the rest of his life on interest alone, and he's only forty. True, the man has a few years on me, but given my track record for making money I don't foresee myself eating from the same silver caviar dish as him anytime soon. I have, however, achieved certain life goals. For instance, I know the names of all of Santa's reindeer and Snow White's dwarfs, I can say, "Hello," in twenty-five languages and have the ability to mix a mean cocktail. These may not buy me a house in the Hamptons, but they do make me fun at parties. Does it mean I am a failure because I can count my annual income figures on one hand? Is there more to success than dollars and scents? How do we know when we've made it? Success -- when do we stop striving and start enjoying?
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