It’s a new freaking year, now what. There’s a lot of theoretical pressure surrounding a New Year. Resolutions and such. I usually say I won’t make a bullshit resolution and secretly do, though not saying it out loud means it’s not bound by any real expectations or hopes. If I were to resolve myself to do something, anything, this year it would be to become good at something…other than failing. Like knitting. I tried to start last night but after winding the yarn ball too tight I realized it was doomed. My first three attempts at casting on were too tight and I gave up by throwing the needles. Of course my completely talented and handsome boyfriend was better at it than me. Ironically, I’m trying to knit a scarf for him. Today I will try again. Alone. Tight ass yarn balls and all. New Year’s day with the dog, yarn balls in a tea cup (so they don’t roll around and tempt said dog), no kids or family and warm feet. Nice. If only I could enjoy it. I’m anxious and untalented. I suppose there are worse things. I’ll keep plugging along, if for no other reason than to just see what happens. My poor boyfriend.