Posted by on Feb 6, 2013 in art, paint | 2 comments


I always run a little late for the New Year.

I make it to the celebration alright. I party with friends on New Year’s Eve, or play board games or host charades or whatever the evening brings. I bang pots and pans and shout and whistle and kiss my sweetheart when the ball drops in Times Square… I’m just never quite ready for the beginning.

I spent a lot of years feeling “behind” because of this, hustling my way through that last bit of holiday hubbub, trying to fit everything into the final week of the year, desperately seeking quiet time for reflection and goal-setting despite the overly full house and the family-themed schedule.

{It never worked.}


The easy answer would have been to let it go — something I need to practice anyway — and become one of those anti-resolutionists; the folks who feel new year goal-setting is a recipe for failure (’cause we just don’t need more failure in our lives, folks). After all, I can see their point.

But I like the new year. I actually really like Mondays. I like turning over a new leaf and starting fresh and trying again. I like new beginnings. Yes, I fail. {Lots.} But that’s why new goals and new starts and new ideas are so awesome.

Then several years ago, my husband and I created a better fit. After weeks of good intentions, we hadn’t managed that crucial space of time for reflection; February was upon us and we still hadn’t cemented any new ideas to fuel and guide our upcoming year. Yet years of experience had taught us that if we didn’t set our intention, the year would slip away in endless busyness and the progress we hoped for, the ideas we had, would not be realized. Something had to be done.

Thus began the annual Goal Drive.

When I say Goal Drive, I mean a literal drive, as in, putting rubber to the road. I mean six hours locked in the car with no playlist, no books-on-tape and no cell phone. I mean six hours in a small space with no one to talk to but each other. Six hours with the sole purpose of talking out what we need and how we can support one another.

Six little hours that power the entire year.


Our Goal drive always takes place in February. No longer do I beat myself up for letting the holidays be purely holidays, all about good people and good food. No longer do I fuss when January feels cold and slow a little sluggish and stubborn about it’s newness. Because now a pause and some hunkering down feels like the perfect role for that coldest of months, while February becomes a bit of a mid-winter jewel, bright with possibility, sparkling with snow and sun on the same day. When the holidays have faded and the routine has returned, when the cold snaps are fewer and the hope runs a little higher, February becomes the bright beginning.

That’s what I’m doing later this week. The car is all fueled, the fish tacos are waiting, and I’m ready to feel refreshed. It’s my kickoff and I’m excited. I’ll be back next week to share new things and get back to… well, everything.


Your Future is as Bright as Your Faith, Escape into the Open, and Take a Chance will be available in the shop this weekend.