Writing together (December)

Squeaking in under the wire again and I can tell that to be truly successful at this project I'd be better off writing daily than holding myself to the low, low bar of once a month. 

Went "home" for Christmas – a relatively low-key affair but with lots of family time, which was nice, and no travel shenanigans, which was nicer. The kiddo did so well at the airport and in the air, although carsickness has raised its ugly head again and so the trips to and fro were not entirely without complications. At least now I know to be prepared; I carry extra outfits, have learned how to stop my sympathetic gag reflex, and preach the gospel of the 4L ziptop bag to anyone who will listen. 

We met friends at the beach today. Brought lunch to share, watched the kids dig in the sand, tried to balance our delight at the unseasonable 12C temperatures with our horror at the unseasonable 12C temperatures. There were dogs running, and people swimming. I considered wading and then thought again; the water at that beach is cold enough to make me gasp even on the hottest August day. The afternoon was spent cleaning – that new year's clean sweep tradition that I hew to more closely as the years go by. 

I'm still thinking about ways to work more play into my days, perhaps especially this week as I consider what I want to add in 2023. More play, more joy, more rest; that's the goal. 

Part of that is a new layout for my bedroom-cum-office-cum-craft space, because losing my office to the "big girl" bedroom has meant that my sewing machine, ball winder and swift, spinning wheel, and various other craft supplies got put away. Out of sight, out of mind, out of practice – I'm suffering for the lack of a craft practice right now, but haven't quite figured out how I'll re-engage.

Anyway. Only 2 hours left of 2022, and then we'll be tipped headlong into another year. Here's to a year that brings us sweetness and light, more time with dear friends, and – dare I say it? – an opportunity for rest.