Dear Diary,

There is a story of a shawl. I started it near to the beginning of my knitting career, then frogged it in dissatisfaction at my meager skills. The yarn waited. Time passed. The recipient mentioned owning a notable lack of items I'd created with my fiber art. I looked at the yarn. I did not use it. Then, the holiday approached and I had the skills, the time, the art, and the beginnings of the yarn. The shawl was re-born. I worked diligently, choosing the right yarns, the right stitch and pattern and gauge for each yarn. I built the stripes. The holiday closed in and I worked harder and faster. I knit like a madwoman. Then my elbow started to holler, and finally gave out when my shoulder joined in. I had injured myself knitting.

Dear Diary,

To start with a quote for a year hopefully filled with more writing than ever:

"The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think." Edwin Schlossberg.

I rang in the new year with an auld lang syne in full for the first time, tart sparkling wine, noisemakers, fireworks across the valley.

I sketched some hopes and dreams for the ones I love in my diary, and some predictions for the new year with a reflection upon the old. Am I prepared for this year? Heck yes. I've worked all last year for this year to go off smoothly.