Today I crossed over to a new phase of life. I became one of "them." The others. We all see groups that are outside of our experience. Living life around us, almost living in a parallel existence. They are the dog owners to those of us without dogs. Or the free less living a life that is hard to imagine. They are a group of athletes to my fellow cohort of nonathletic people. We move aside to let them pass, knowing those groups are not for us. Until one day, they are. Then, we find ourselves with a dog, wearing a hot pink blazer, or, heaven forbid, playing on an organized kickball team. We become "them."

Reading that 14 million people tried to buy Taylor Swift pre-sale tickets leaves me questioning why. I haven't heard her latest album and refuse to listen because of its popularity. I understand the dysfunctionality, but I'm sticking to my opinion even if her music might be something I enjoy. I simply won't allow it.

My anti-popularity personality trait stops me from wearing anything I see other people wearing and prevents me from enjoying the latest food craze. As a result, my poor husband is constantly missing out.

I lose precisely one follower every time I tweet. It's been happening for a while. I once enjoyed the prestige of having over 3,000 followers. Today I'm down to 1884 followers. After I post this blog, it will fall to 1883. It's a phenomenon that makes me question if any tweet is worth bringing my false sense of importance closer to zero.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it still make a sound? Is content still relevant if no one consumes it? So often, the most challenging part of being a creator is ignoring the nagging need for validation. We pour our hearts and souls into a piece, post it to the world and then try not to constantly check the number of clicks, likes, and views. We tell ourselves we do it as a creative outlet and are not concerned with the outcome, but we both know that isn't true. Low viewership on a post that took hours to research and write is a blow.

It is not often that I pick the "better to pass" option when faced with a new opportunity, but throwing the first pitch out at a professional baseball game is one of those times. At first, the offer appears to be a great honor. However, as time passes, realizing what is about to occur becomes real. Visions transforming into your favorite pitcher quickly dissolve into being the last kid picked in gym class. Like participating in "Dancing with the Stars," this experience is best left to the imagination, not displayed to millions of people.

I arrived at true adulthood with the purchase of my first house. My husband and I stretched every dollar we had to quantify for a 30-year adjustable-rate mortgage on a 1500-square-foot cottage just a few blocks from the peninsula edge of California's breathtaking Palos Verdes. After that, we had months of martinis on the patio at sunset until the day our neighbor's beloved German Shepard, Apollo, entered our lives.

My adult daughter turned to me the other day and said the only time she feels totally at ease is when she is at home drinking with her family. Not sure what that says about my parenting style, but I would have to agree with her. There is something warm and safe about being around those you trust. People who love you unconditionally genuinely enjoy seeing the unedited version of you. There are few places in this world where you can get cozy with being yourself.

We've all heard of or experienced that awful occurrence when a new cook discovered the plastic wrapped giblets are still in the now cooked turkey or the ten o'clock thanksgiving dinner because the cook wildly underestimated the time it takes to defrost a turkey. For me, I'm guilty of both and have even served an uncooked turkey at a company potluck. Lucky I haven't poisoned anyone yet, but I have harmed a car with my now famous mashed potatoes.

Traveling alone gives a person an opportunity to fade into the background to become an observer rather than a participant.

It is my fourth morning sitting in the hotel cafe in Dubai. I'm here because of the last-minute decision to accompany my husband on a business trip. His dedicated work ethic has created my table for one.

Deciding to ask my self-proclaimed “golden armed fighter pilot” father to teach me how to fly probably wasn’t my easiest choice. I was a young woman who thought flying was second nature, and he was an instructor determined to change my mind.

My mother-in-law mentioned that slapping people isn't an option, so she decided to stop going out. I'm sure she isn't alone. I think most of us try to be good people, but like hundred cuts as those minor annoyances build up during the day, we fight hard not to scream in the middle of the coffee shop. Unfortunately, speaking from experience, that will not make those annoyances disappear. Learning to prevent little things from building up can mean the difference between a good day and promising never to crawl out from under your bed covers again.

Is it right to tape someone to an airline seat? Most people I ask immediately say, "Yes!" They remind me that there are rules on planes, and people must comply. With my strong aviation background and the memory of 9/11, I understand entirely and in no way side with anyone who has misbehaved on a flight, but the images of people taped to seats don't sit well with me. A better solution is something that deserves more thought.

The recent Virgin Galactic flight, which sent Richard Branson and his cohort to the edge of space, has turned me introspective. I waited two decades to see my Uncle's space tourism dream become a reality, but instead of joy, I felt a sense of loss. That girl who grew up around the pure spirit of adventure has turned skeptical. I wanted to join in on the excitement and celebrate, but I couldn't get past the commercialism of it all.

I have an "inspiration" file located in the back of my two-drawer cabinet that I seek out in times of low creativity. Today I explored the file and came across my 2015 Strengths Finder Assessment. My top five themes were futuristic, significance, activator, ideation, and relator. It struck me how far I've moved away from these themes, and I wondered if I would ever see that version of myself again.

"YOU ARE ONLY LIMITED BY WHAT YOU CAN DREAM" - Dick Rutan

Early one December morning in 1986, my father, Dick Rutan, climbed into an airplane, built with his own two hands to do something few had thought possible. He was about to break a world's record, to be the first to fly around the globe without stopping. Sitting in the cockpit of his flimsy fiberglass plane that morning, Dad wasn't feeling confident he was scared. There was a real possibility he wouldn't even survive the takeoff, and he couldn't shake the image of a fireball at the end of the runway.

1. Positive reactions equal a good idea.

People's positive reactions to your business concept isn't a sign of a good idea. It just means you are a good storyteller. Your plan only becomes a viable business concept if someone is willing to give you a dollar for it.

2. Surround yourself with only success stories.

Positivitivity quotes and endless success stories, or as I like to call them, "entrepreneur porn," can lead to a false sense of brilliance. Keeping a clear view of reality will lead you away from the dream world and straight to making smart decisions.

I had a very normal childhood. I grew up in the small desert town of Mojave, CA. My family lived in a quaint house at the edge of a tiny neighborhood. Our house was nothing special it was just a simple home with a partially built airplane in the garage and one fully assembled in the living room, nothing unusual.

At least, that is how I remembered it up until one particular event in my life. It happened while I was in my mid-twenties, married to a handsome young test pilot, enjoying my life while living on a remote Air Force base in southern California. I had just settled into my lawn chair to participate in an old Air Force spouses' ritual that takes place on many military bases around the world.

As the world went into 2020, it faced a vast and growing pilot shortage. Just three months into the new year, a pilot shortage was no longer a problem. The beginnings of stay-at-home orders and social distancing requirements turned the high demand for air travel into thousands of unemployed pilots. A global pandemic seemed to be an unlikely solution to any shortage, but COVID-19 is likely to be the event that permanently redefines the role of the pilot.

When thinking of starting a new business, most entrepreneurs' advice is to find a problem and then create a solution. Sounds easy, but the trick is the problem must be relevant. People have to care about the issue you solve for any concept to be successful.

Problem: I need a better way to travel through the city

Solution: Rideshare companies like Uber/Lyft

These successful companies created a solution to a problem that affected many of us. Ten years ago, I never thought I would message a stranger to pick me up at the airport or take me to dinner. The concept was unheard of, even considered dangerous, but today living without this option is an inconvenience.

What exactly is a $100 hamburger? It is a burger consisting of Japanese Wagyu beef that has been infused with white truffle butter, topped with James Montgomery cheddar cheese, and a fried quail egg. (I can already tell this post will be very hard to write without a trip to In-N-Out.) But to my crazy flying family and pilots everywhere, the $100 hamburger is aviation slang for any burger served in a non-local small airport restaurant. The high price tag doesn't have anything to do with the burger's quality, and it has more to do with what it takes to get one.