Coach purse: $300; Tiffany necklace: $175; Good friends: Priceless.

Would you rather be liked -- or be respected?

I was thinking about this quandary earlier today. A few years ago, I'd have said that I would rather be respected, no contest, and didn't care about being liked -- after all, some of the biggest blowhards in the industry are the ones with the Pulitzers. But now, I'd rather have both. Who says you can't have it all?

After all, I think I am fairly respected -- for my age -- as a journalist, and there's nowhere to go but up (unless I somehow manage to libel us when I slot next month). And you know what else? I am surrounded by an absolutely incredible group of women.

I have friends like Jessica and Christina, who knew me back before I flatironed my hair and was a "General Hospital" addict (one word: Wally), and friends like Brooke, who have seen me at my very worst (living in the dorm) and at my best (she was the first person I told when I was pregnant -- but only because I was panicking about fitting into a bridesmaids dress).

I have friends within my own family, like my sister, Krissy, with whom I have established a relationship based on mutual respect (as opposed to wanting to kill each other like we did when we were kids) -- and the Macy's friends-and-family sale, and my sister-in-law, Christy, who is always up for online shopping in the middle of the night and parenting tips (like what to do when your kids mash spinach dip into the couch).

I have wonderful friends at work who also are wonderful journalists and mentors, and have taught me so much about A1 stories (Julie), slotting (Mel and Elouise) -- and how to relax (Julie again, and she's really the only person who can tell me that without receiving a "please die" glare in response).

And I have absolutely amazing friends who I have met online. I never thought I'd be one of those people who said some of their closest friends exist solely through the Internet (and, depending on how bad my mood is when I am stuck in traffic, on my cellphone), but I consider myself incredibly lucky. They cheer on my writing -- and in some cases, pull out pink machetes and hack away my writer's block -- and were there to keep me company during the worst time of my life, when I spent five straight days on the couch with my laptop and a box of tissues (Kate and Lauren, I owe you).

I don't know what I'd do without Lara (my Batty, my favorite Canadian after Celine Dion, the best beta I have ever had, and who has definitely, uh, broadened my literary horizons) ... Trin (my amazing little sis and creative consultant extraordinaire) ... Sue (my big sis, who was there for me in a way no one else could have been, writes better on her worst day than most of us do on our best, and, as all big sisters do, keeps my ego in check) ... my late-night writing sessions with Cat (who is always awake) and Jessi (who always has ice) ... Clem and Barb, who will be the greatest global aunties to my kid ... Lisa and Jenni, who truly understand ...

There are days when I feel like saying to hell with the fandom, but they all drag me right back in.

And there are days when I feel like saying to hell with the world, and my friends in general drag me right back in.

These women teach me so much -- about motherhood, about journalism and other forms of writing, about life and love and loss (and, in some cases, about Batman and about India) -- they make me laugh, and they keep me grounded. Life is definitely a challenging ride at times, but having people to cheer you on and ride alongside you during the journey ... Thanks to my friends, I'm still upright, even after the last year.