What if your New Year started… later?

I’ve been busy writing down intentions for the new year and burning one each night like a little wish witch.

Resolutions? Stuffy.
Burning an intention every night? Mysterious. Fun. Slightly dramatic.

More of that energy for the new year, please.

Here’s how it works: you write down 13 intentions for the year ahead. Starting on the solstice (or honestly, any night you want), you burn one each evening without knowing which one it was. On the final night, you open the last intention, and that one is yours to actively steward in the year ahead. The rest? Handed over to the universe.

Low pressure. High vibes. Zero spreadsheets.

Inside My Studio

January, for me, is all about intentions, not resolutions.

Look, I’m not anti–New Year’s goals. 

But I’ve learned that by January 1, I am simply… not ready. November and December are some of the busiest months in my shop (a very good, very grateful thing), which means by the time the holidays wrap, I’m usually a pile of creative mush.

So instead of forcing clarity on January 1, I treat January as hibernation season—quietly exploring ideas, noticing what feels exciting, and letting the year introduce itself a little more slowly. I highly recommend it.

If you’re feeling burnt out, here’s your permission slip to:

• Decide that February 1 is actually your New Year
  
• Or use Lunar New Year as your fresh start
  
• Or simply… rest
  

Also—can we normalize fun resolutions?

One of my favorite alternatives is choosing a word of the year. Not a goal, but a lens.

For me, 2025 was “action.”

After a few years of feeling a bit steamrolled by motherhood (to put it lightly), I finally felt like myself again, and I was tired of endlessly learning without implementing. So 2025 became less stewing, more doing.

Along with that, I set two intentionally fun resolutions:

1. Design a tablecloth pattern, print and sew it using my grandmother’s sewing machine, and host a dinner party on it.
   ✔️ Done. Delightful. 10/10 would recommend.
   
2. Buy caviar.
   I found a shop in Houston that sold tiny amounts, something I’d always wanted to try. Verdict? I liked it! Didn’t love it enough to repeat regularly - but I’d happily eat it again at a party or restaurant. Totally worth the experiment.
   

So tell me—what are you ruminating on for 2026? I truly love hearing what people are dreaming up.

What I'm Cooking

I’ll report back next week on how Christmas cooking actually went, but at the time of writing this, it’s Christmas Eve morning and I’ve already prepped the sugo sauce.

Side note: I almost always watch a video of a chef making a recipe before I cook it. There are so many tiny tips hidden in the dialogue, plus visual cues that never make it into the written recipe. When Samin explained how to make the sauce glossy and cling to the noodles, my mind was blown. That troubleshooting tip alone was worth the video watch.

Watch it here → Samin’s Lazy Sugo

Now, the irony: this “lazy” sugo was… not lazy.

I decided to double the batch because:

• I’m terrible at eyeballing quantities
  
• I didn’t want to risk running short on Christmas Day
  
• If something takes effort, I want leftovers to freeze
  

The recipe yields about 3 quarts, so I confidently assumed my 7.5-quart pot would be fine.

Reader, it was not.

I ended up spooning sauce into a second pot, resulting in two bubbling cauldrons on my stove like a festive kitchen witch. Thankfully, it tasted great—so fingers crossed it all came together beautifully by the time you’re reading this.

Creative Sparks

This is your sign that saving your kid’s (or cousin’s… or your own) art scraps was absolutely worth it.

I’ve been rolling up all of Bonnie’s art easel paper and using it as wrapping paper—for birthday gifts, Christmas presents, all of it. It gives her art a second life and brings a little whimsy back into the holidays.  Bonus: less gift wrap purchasing.

DIY art wrapping paper

Consider this your official permission to be a light art-supply pack rat in 2026.

What I'm Reading

Conform popped up from my library this week and fully pulled me out of my reading slump. I might squeeze it in before the end of the year—TBD.

Which brings me to a proposal:
What if we all set our Goodreads goal to one book next year?

I’ve noticed so much pressure around hitting a certain number that it turns reading into a points system: people grabbing short books just to “win.” What if instead, the intention was to read one really good book? All the others are just part of the exploration to find it.

For recommendations, I love:

• @beachreadsandbubbly
  
• @bookhuddle
  
• @kaila.books
  

My library hold list is never-ending thanks to them.

May you read for pleasure in 2026, not for a number.

Coming Up...

I hope 2025 was good to you—whether it was filled with joy, growth, learning something new, or working through something hard. And if it was your least favorite year? I hope you’re gentle with yourself and allow space for rest.

I can’t wait to see where we all go in 2026.
Happy New Year, friend.

— Katie