A chunky, cropped sweater with large buttons.  A How to Embroider People book. (This may not even be a thing!) A Blythe Leonard bag, the larger size, so it actually fits my laptop. And the list goes on. It’s my want list. A running list on my phone where I dump everything I think I “must have” in the moment.

I’ve never loved New Year goals or resolutions. They’ve always felt forced, like trying to sprint, you hate running. Honestly, my birthday feels more like the start of my year anyway. Instead of resolutions, I choose a word. One word to carry, sit with, wrestle through. This year, it’s a word I’ve already been living with for a while now: Intentional.

I am a terrible gift-giver. Every gift I give, I want it to mean something. I can’t just run into a store and grab whatever is near the checkout line. There’s a whole internal checklist running in my head: Can I support a local shop? Will they actually use this, or will it end up in a drawer? Is it unique? Does it remind me of them?