Bonheur est un choix.

I have rituals. Everyone does.

For me, morning lattes are like high church; I walk carefully over the uneven bricks on 4th Street like I'm moving down the center aisle to receive eucharist.

I've finally given up the hope that any barista will ever spell my name correctly.

"What's your name?" 

"Fifi. Eff Eye Eff Eye."

I'm thrilled the holiday season is finally over and I can return everything to normal—but better.

I typically shy away from saying that I've made resolutions for the coming year. Self improvement is decided by a series of daily choices and not one major decision made in a champagne fog.

I'm sure I'll smoke a cigarette or two this year. I'm sure I'll blow a paycheck on shoes and go to a happy hour instead of the gym one too many times.

But overall, I think this will be a year of triumphs.

Parce que le bonheur est un choix.