carrying this torch

I've been sitting here for an hour. I've erased five different first sentences. It's hard to know what to write. I would tell you all about Christmas, but I think we're all a little tired of the festivities by now, aren't we? I would recap the year, but that would just mean rehashing the details of baby-growing. I would write a list of resolutions, but I sort of hate resolutions. I rarely remember them past January 5, and if I do remember they only make me feel guilty for my lack of proactivenesstivity. It's a word, deal with it.  I would describe how it feels to be so close to having a baby, but that feeling morphs from sheer joy to utter panic every thirty seconds, and I don't want to give you reader whip-lash. So I guess I'll tell you about sewing. I sew now. I'm a sewer. Six days ago I became the elated owner of a limited edition Project Runway Brother sewing machine. The first page of the machine's manual declares in bold, capslock THIS IS NOT A TOY. But if you ask me, it really depends on your definition of toy. For what is a toy if not a gateway to dreams? A mechanism for unlocking possibilities, for letting imagination rule, for shape one's ambitions? Just as Go Go the Walking Pup taught me to be a responsible dog owner and Legos unleashed my inner architect, so does my sewing machine make all those pinterest projects possible realities and not mere pipe dreams. Who knows? Maybe I, Meg Morley Walter will some day be the next Project Runway winner. I've already (almost) completed a baby quilt, all the while hearing Tim Gunn's voice in my head, making it work.