January was a busy month, but not one that photographs well. Which is ironic, because I do have photos (and screenshots)—though mostly of exposed wires, threats of legal action for copyright infringement, and a hat I knitted in an FIT class as proof of my productivity.

For most of my professional life, I have created visions for the year ahead, distilled those dreams into actionable goals, then broken them down into daily, weekly and monthly to-do lists. I’ve loved living with that model for most of my existence.

With a major lifestyle move still ahead of me, however, I find it difficult to commit to any other long-term creative project. I know that my plans will change dramatically when I transition into my new residential community, live around the corner from my son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids, and adjust to a 45-minute train ride to visit my beloved city.

For now, I’m operating on a first-things-first basis, while doing my best to keep my artistic pilot light alive and burning.

I wish to leave my apartment to the new owner in impeccable order. This meant professionally covering up an old electrical box mélange I’d concealed with artwork since renovating my kitchen in 2020. The first contractor did a shabby job which my building superintendent promptly nixed. A month later, another contractor aced the job. In between those events were phone calls, agita (the first hire thought he’d provided an acceptable remedy) and the familiar waiting game associated with contract work. 

During this same stretch, the building’s Social Committee—which I head up—met in my living room to plan a send-off party for our esteemed, retiring superintendent. In under an hour, we organized the event, designed a stunning invitation, and located a festive banner another resident had saved from his own retirement. 

Then came an unexpected email came from a California lawyer accusing me of copyright infringement: the alleged use of his client’s photo in my newsletter article from 2017. I could be liable for “maximum justifiable damages in federal court” to the tune of $2000.

 If you’re having an outraged reaction, join my club. Nine years ago? Really?

As an artist who once sued—and won—a well-known brand for infringing on my copyrighted designs, I’ve been conscientious about image use. I don’t grab Google pictures. I subscribed to istockphoto and 123RF for years seeking illustrations to accompany my writing. 

The credit card I used for those transactions has expired, but blessedly my download history still exists in my account. I can prove that I’m not a scofflaw—that the image in question was properly licensed. 

Did I mention that all of this can be exhausting?

I needed to have a creative outlet, but none that demanded too much.

Following a pattern isn’t usually my idea of inspiration, but I wanted to keep my hands engaged. I hadn’t worked much with yarn since the 1960’s! While I knew the basics, I wanted to relearn skills I’d glossed over, like determining gauge and counting rows. When I saw that FIT was offering a class for seniors, I signed up using my enrollment as the ‘forcing mechanism’ to get me moving forward on a handheld project.

Finding yarn outlets in NYC isn’t what it used to be, but I did discover a West Village shop that had just what I needed. I finished my new hat shortly after my third and last class and am in the process of knitting a matching scarf. 

Meanwhile, I’m also working with a designer to make my new place as comfortable and inviting as the NYC environment she originally created for me. High on the shopping list were counter-height stools for the kitchen. With her trusted aesthetic, she steered me toward these four beauties on Craigslist. 

This quartet lived in Queens, and the seller’s availability—before 7am, after 7pm weekdays or anytime Sunday—didn’t align neatly with a New Jersey delivery schedule. Blessedly, everyone was available on MLK Day, a Monday. I found a TaskRabbit-adjacent mover and coordinated the whole ballet: alerting the seller, making the Zelle payment as the chairs were loaded into the van, and keeping my NJ contact updated on the ETA.

All of it fell to me.

What the Camera Didn’t Catch

Looking back, these images don’t give me the pleasure of a finished textile or a wall series in progress. They don’t depict transformation in the way I’m used to sharing it.

Instead, they read like receipts—evidence that I showed up. That I handled what needed handling. That I kept my fingers busy, my commitments honored, and my creative pilot light lit—however low it may have burned at times.

I’m still waiting for a closing date. Still in my apartment. Still answering the same questions. But I’m also steadily manifesting what’s next. I’m trusting that becoming a New Jersey Girl in 2026 isn’t a leap, but the natural outcome of the work of now.

And yes—somewhere in the mix, I made a bracelet at a friend’s birthday party, just to remind myself of what’s coming.