The winter of... what?

This was from a couple of storms ago; I believe (hyperbole-free) that we've had another 18"+ since this was taken.  Actually, probably more like 20" since this was taken.  Snow is falling as I type, and our fingers are tightly crossed that it stays snow and doesn't turn over to rain of any kind. At this point, the snow that cannot be raked off the roof will become dangerously heavy if soaked by rain, and we've got a few problem areas around the foundation that -- thanks to the amount of snow piled up and around, could leak.

I keep trying to have an "it is what it is" attitude and despite evidence to the contrary I'm actually worn out and tired of talking about the weather.  If I had a button maker, I'd sport one that says, "Can we talk about something else?"  Hmmm.  Might need to figure out if I can whip something up!

Meanwhile, I am so thankful yet again to have Natalie for a friend.  I feel so cared for, having her prompt me to getting going already! here; she's the most delightful and consistent blogger I know and my fez is always off to her.

I have to do some finishing and photography for proof, but am I telling you that I learned to read my very first knitting pattern in order to make polar bears and it was easy.  The couple of things I wasn't sure about, I found detailed and helpful YouTube videos for.  I am making mine tiny (fits in the palm of your hand) because that's how I roll.  I see that this is the point in the winter where I usually lose my crafting mojo (super busiest time at work, hands wreaked from shoveling, delights of the season wearing off) but I'm determined to keep going.

I want to make this the winter of something else.  Not the winter of the record-breaking, back- and spirit-breaking snow, but the winter that I, that we... what?  Knit 100 polar bears?  Got my new stove and learned to make the best ever... focaccia? caramel corn?  The winter that Dean spent a month in Panama and came home fairly fluent in Spanish and focused on becoming (a marine biologist? a rain forest ecologist? a traveling journalist?) -- although I have to remember, while I imagine and celebrate his possibilities to also pay heed to my own.  The winter that I learned to let him go?  The winter I decided what my next goal is, I hope.