Et tu?
I’ve recently decided that life is too short t o have a grocery basket that won’t turn to the right —regardless if I am picking up groceries for the week or it’s just a quick stop for milk and eggs. Sure, I used to suffer through with the status quo, but not anymore. Just the other day, I signaled to the store manger and asked that he help me transfer my food to another cart—one that wasn’t a constant source of irritation and a danger as I couldn’t get out of the way of the mother who was quickly bearing down on me with three children in tow and enough groceries to feed an army. This was an epiphanic moment for me. It was one in which I consciously gave way to my subconscious—that little voice that’s been whispering “quality versus quantity chica” for the past three years. When I was working 95 plus hours a week, all I could think about was a safe and secure retirement—knowing that with the California lifestyle I would most probably work in some way or another for the remainde