Each year I try to take time out to calmly reflect on what has passed, and usually I fail miserably. My brain does not want to sit down in one place with no scarf on the needles, no scissors at the ready, but with only a moment, my memory, and me. I am the epitome of a multi-tasker, or, as I'm more familiarly known as, a multi-crafter.
When I do get enough space to speculate, I am often left wondering where I get this incessant drive to create. Where do any of us get the drive? I have a grandmother I barely knew who knit up a storm, and a great-grandfather who used his brush to create scenes of boats and Alaskana as elegant as any in a gallery. Could I really have inherited this drive from family I never met or barely knew? Perhaps that is part, but it can't be all.
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