I n our everyday lives, where is the tipping point between enthusiasm and obsession?</p><p>Enthusiasm is a universally admired quality, after all. It doesn&rsquo;t harbor the borderline-crazy associations of obsession.</p><p>A cheerleader is enthusiastic. Dr. Frankenstein is obsessed.</p><p>Passion lies somewhere in the middle. Calling a person &ldquo;passionate&rdquo; can be a positive or a negative assessment. Does it mean &ldquo;intensely devoted&rdquo; or &ldquo;slightly unhinged&rdquo;? Depends on who&rsquo;s talking.</p><p>Celebrity chef Jonathan Justus, subject of Jill Silva&rsquo;s cover story, freely admits to obsessive tendencies. Of course, it&rsquo;s easier to embrace your inner craziness when national publications celebrate your genius.</p><p>For the rest of us hyper-enthusiastic types, daily life pulls in two directions. On one hand, there&rsquo;s an endless stream of exciting developments, real and anticipated, to dive into and get carried away by. </p><p>And then there&rsquo;s the trying to act normal &mdash; normal being sort of grounded and plodding, from my vantage point. Because if you go around with your exuberance showing, some people will think you are a kook.</p><p>The trick is, as politicians say, to frame the discussion by using the right words. Americans like people who are &ldquo;high-energy,&rdquo; &ldquo;joyful&rdquo; or &ldquo;exuberant.&rdquo; </p><p>&ldquo;Joie de vivre&rdquo; and &ldquo;zest for life&rdquo; are considered admirable traits. </p><p>But a host of other descriptors are less flattering. To say someone is &ldquo;high on life&rdquo; hints at &ldquo;delusional.&rdquo; </p><p>Being &ldquo;obsessed&rdquo; with something can be a good thing &mdash; finding a cure for cancer, say. But being &ldquo;obsessive&rdquo; is nearly inseparable from &ldquo;compulsive.&rdquo; </p><p>&ldquo;Manic&rdquo; is uncomfortably close to &ldquo;maniac.&rdquo; Although I do have a friend who proudly trumpets the &ldquo;uni-polar hypomania&rdquo; diagnosis she picked up from some good doctor along the way.</p><p>To me and her other friends, she&rsquo;s just Suzanne &mdash; radiant, effervescent, full-of-life Suzanne. </p><p>She and I met because of a mutual passion &mdash; oops, make that exuberance &mdash; for growing vegetables and herbs and cooking with the fruits of the harvest. At the time, a few years ago, she was the only other woman I knew who canned food. </p><p>Every year in late summer, I have marathon cooking and canning sessions, often lasting into the wee hours. I put up pesto, hummus, tapenade, caponata, ratatouille, minestrone and gazpacho. I blanch and freeze green beans, okra, corn kernels and peaches.</p><p>I don&rsquo;t do it because I put hard work above playtime. I do it because it is all playtime to me. </p><p>Suzanne loves the whole process as well &mdash; she just runs circles around me, getting up at 5 a.m. to bake bread and hosting what seems like 32 dinner parties a month. </p><p>One reason people think you&rsquo;re nutty to take on epic tasks is they assume you have a Martha Stewart perfectionism complex. When people hear about my weekend endeavors, they often say it makes them tired just thinking about it. </p><p>Let me take a moment to set the record straight. I make time by leaving out boring tasks I dislike: vacuuming, washing the car, organizing tax receipts and so on. </p><p>People also think you&rsquo;re odd if you lack what they consider a reasonable level of anxiety. So I fake it sometimes. Lately I find myself shaking my head solemnly when talk turns to the economy, H1N1 flu and health care reform. I know those are legitimate things to worry about. I&rsquo;m just not wired for worrying. </p><p>Also, from a logic standpoint, worrying about something doesn&rsquo;t prevent it from happening. I usually trot out the cross-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it answer to any hypothetical problem. </p><p>But if you look at me like I&rsquo;m crazy, I&rsquo;ll try to look apprehensive.