B-School gave me the know-why and know-how to build a home — a business and a life more suited for Mayi, where I can drink my daily shot of wheatgrass; where I can have a backyard BBQ and be hubby’s sous chef; where I can create something new every day, where I can take jumping jack breaks without previous notice, where I can create big tsunamis of change in the world (the good kind) without ever taking off my paint-stained Eeyore pajamas.

Thanks to B-School I found Mayi, minus the self-sabotage and compulsion to conform. Once the “What will they think?” script was gone, it’s all been uphill on steroids from there: I tripled my mailing list, quadrupled my piggy bank, helped angel invest the beach house hubby and I had always dreamed (B-Schoolers coordinately invited) and partnered with the most amazing business sidekick in the galaxy: April Bowles-Olin. I pinch myself frequently to see if I’m dreaming, though, lately it’s been happening with less frequency. I think it’s finally beginning to sink in: This is really happening. This is no fairy tale, this is my life.