A Gentle Start to a Fresh Start (2026 Edition)

By Posted in For the new year, Life Lessons, Organization, Planner Pad, Yearly theme Tagged , 4 Comments

A quick post for the new year. I love the “clean slate” feeling that the flip of the calendar page brings. Even though everything is still essentially the same, it feels different. Fresher. Cleaner. More intentional. Maybe I can make it so. I want to make it so.

A couple of weeks ago, using a journaling prompt from The Book of Alchemy, I created my own “to feel” list vs. my usual “to-do” list—an interesting exercise that I’ll flesh out over the next few weeks. January seems like the perfect time to take a breath, regroup, then settle down with some tea, a notebook, and my thoughts. How do I want to FEEL in the coming year, and how can I make that happen?

I think I’ll make similar “maps” for each feeling to brainstorm some of the specific actions that will make this “To-Feel” list a reality.

As an example, over the past week, I’ve been working to feel more organized by finally making progress on the Nokbox that I purchased at least a year ago. Getting information collected into one location for our next-of-kin (NOK)—or in the event of a fire or other home emergency—has been on my mind forever, but until recently, I haven’t executed my plan, mostly because it feels so overwhelming. Last week, I collected “Protected Documents” into the storage pouch. A small start, but a start nonetheless. I’ll chip away at completing the forms with the goal of wrapping things up by the end of 2026, if not sooner. I’m also planning to compile a home inventory (including pens!) by taking photos and turning them into Shutterfly books that catalog our noteworthy possessions—a plan that occurred to me in the shower the other day.

To guide me through 2026 with more intention than in 2025, I’ve outfitted my old Planner Pad portfolio with the 2026 Spiral-Bound Organizer and started populating this first week of the new year with priorities and projects, tasks and appointments.

A closer look…

There’s lots more planning to be done, like what exactly my 2026 Theme (“Explore”) means specifically, but I feel good about the direction I’m headed. More focus, better planning, more intention—while also leaving room for adventure, exploration, and surprises—like this rainbow during Monday’s ice storm.

Best wishes to you as we step into 2026 together. Let’s do so with this poem:

Promise

By Jackie Kay

Remember, the time of year
when the future appears
like a blank sheet of paper
a clean calendar, a new chance.
On thick white snow
You vow fresh footprints
then watch them go
with the wind’s hearty gust.
Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises
made to be broken, made to last.

From A Poem For Every Day Of The Year


A Little Magic

By Posted in Colored pencils, Koh-I-Noor Magic Pencils Tagged , 5 Comments

Do you ever do this—think of a specific pen or pencil or notebook and then go on a mini-rampage to track it down? It doesn’t matter that you have plenty of OTHER pens, pencils, or notebooks—you suddenly need THAT ONE. You rack your brain, make exasperated huffing sounds, and keep looking in dumb places until the needle is found in the haystack. Ah, relief. Until next time.

I recently went through this angsty exercise with my small collection of Koh-I-Noor Magic pencils. I knew I had them. Somewhere. Hadn’t used them in years, but suddenly needed to do so. In my brain, this was a Magic Pencil emergency. Hold all my calls!

After much pacing, and digging through storage containers in the basement, I found them in one of those CW Pencil Enterprises envelopes that I loved receiving back when the shop was open and their monthly subscriptions were a thing. This is one of life’s better feelings—miraculously unearthing the thing that you’ve stored so well it’s virtually unfindable.

The pencils are fat and gorgeously swirled (or glittery), with multicolor cores that cry out to be used. Which I never really did, beyond a scribble or two, until last week. Last Tuesday’s journaling prompt in The Book of Alchemy was called “Doodling In the Margins” and asked us to do just that. I kind of froze up, overthinking the simple directions, which is my standard M.O. Then I noticed those pencils lined up on my desk and felt my absurd “fear of doodling” fall away. Trees. I doodled Magic Pencil trees.

Super simple. Super fun. Kind of magical, if you define magical as “beautiful and delightful.” Just sketch and see what happens; what colors show up with each stroke, with each slight turn of the pencil.

The other day I was journaling about silence and felt the urge to draw another tree. A multi-colored pine this time.

Magic Pencils lost. Magic Pencils found. With each serendipitously colorful stroke, I’m less of a scaredy cat about my sketching abilities, less of a perfectionist. That feels like magic. The fun is in the randomness, the surprise, the whimsy. That’s a bit of magic, too.

The Motherlode

By Posted in Rubber stamps, Stationery in real life, Stationery treasure 12 Comments

The Eclectic Chic is a vast, flea-market type store that I’ve visited a couple of times. To be honest, it’s quite overwhelming—with booth after booth of vendors’ wares, crafts, antiques, collectibles, primitives, furniture, novelties, jewelry, clothes, signs, sports memorabilia, etc. You name it, you can probably find it there. There’s also a café should you find yourself getting the vapors and in need of sustenance. Bring a compass—you can get seriously lost navigating the aisles. (Husband went to the bathroom. Phone calls were needed to find him again.)

At 50,000 square feet, with over 200 vendors, it’s equal parts delightful and tiring. It’s best to pace yourself as you explore the ever-changing offerings. Booths are well-organized and I particularly enjoy the nostalgia that so many items evoke in me. Cartoon character classes! Oooooo…my Mary Poppins lunchbox! Vintage Peanuts notepads! China that looks like the set my grandmother owned. Mementos from Christmases past. It’s truly is a trip down memory lane.

I found a desk that I LOVED the last time we visited, but alas, I’m at full desk capacity. Keep moving, Mary.

After a recent medical appointment, just up the road from the store, we popped in to poke around since we were in the neighborhood and had a little time to kill. No shopping list. No agenda. Let’s just have a look around.

Like I said, I resisted the desk as well as the cartoon glasses (Tweety! Sylvester!). I have enough of both. We wandered and wandered and wandered, eventually ending up in a “catch-all” back room that had tables full of random goods—old Hess trucks, forgotten Beanie babies, obsolete cassette players, an old waffle iron. Well, even MORE random than the rest of the store. And there I saw it—an ancient-looking plastic bag stuffed FULL of vintage rubber stamps! I scooped that bag up faster than you can say “Special Delivery,” despite the fact that it’s undoubtedly been gathering dust for years. No one was going to wrestle me for it, but my greedy little brain couldn’t help screaming “MINE, MINE, MINE!”.

For $10, I scored nearly 50 business office rubber stamps—truly the motherlode of analog office tools.

I was born too late. I would’ve LOVED spending my work day stamping documents “PAID” and “IMPORTANT!” and “EXPEDITE!” Now I can do so in my retirement. Sometimes [stationery] dreams DO come true.

This is definitely my favorite of the lot. I think I would’ve paid $10 for that one alone.

I’ve been using them in my journal.

Self-care reminder

I also have plans to use them to create handmade greetings cards (a work-in-progress). Sometimes I stamp them on scrap paper just for the heck of it.

Another favorite

That “RUSH” stamp is pretty adorable.

Finding this bag of office stamps was an unlikely, unexpected, and completely delightful discovery. Rescuing these old-timey analog treasures from that table of misfit goods made me absolutely giddy, and I don’t giddify easily.

This is a big bag of joy—well worth the $10.

The Retreat

By Posted in Life Lessons, Wellness, Zentangles 8 Comments

Two weeks ago, I was in the middle of a two-night retreat at Chapel House on the Colgate University campus. Though not far from my home mileage-wise, the setting was so peaceful and beautiful, that I felt like I’d traveled to a foreign place. This was the exactly the getaway that I’d been craving—mostly silent, largely agenda-less, with simple and delicious vegetarian meals. I lost track of time because it didn’t really matter. A gong announced our mealtimes. No watches required.

Coming back from a walk in the woods

As I was packing to be away for a mere 48 hours, I joked with a friend that I was trying to be a minimalist while also bringing everything. I could write letters, postcards, poems, essays! I could read books and magazines! I could wander outdoors! I could meditate, walk a labyrinth, and do yoga! I could jam ALL OF THE RELAXING THINGS into my short stay!! Oh, wait.

Slow down, Mary. Take a deep breath. Put away your Type A personality and crumple up that to-do list. This is a RETREAT. Time away. Quiet time. Time to exhale and just be. After that little chat with myself, I packed very lightly. A feat. Gold star, please.

My first afternoon there, I spent a good chunk of time reading in the chair the Dalai Lama sat in while speaking at Colgate in 2008. Looking out into the sunlit woods leading down to campus, I felt my shoulders relax for the first time in a while. Placebo-effect, probably, but I’ll take it.

Later that evening, just after finishing a lovely dinner of roasted acorn squash stuffed with rice, zucchini, and mushrooms, my (silenced) phone vibrated and announced a call from my mom’s nursing home. UH, OH!! I had no choice but to answer and learned that she’d fallen and was being sent to the ER. Cue a record scratch across my newfound peace.

After a brief, silent freakout, I channeled the energy of the Dalai Lama’s chair and calmed myself down. Calls were made. My sister would handle the emergency. I once again convinced my shoulders to stand down, mentally regrouped, enjoyed my evening, and slept surprisingly well.

Had I successfully relinquished control? How unfamiliar. How healthy. Maybe old dogs CAN learn new tricks.

My only goal for day two, after learning that my mom was none the worse for wear, was to settle down at the library’s big table to dig into the Zentangle Primer Vol. 1, a workbook that had survived my pared-down packing.

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I’d briefly dabbled in Zentangling in the past, but never seemed to find/make the time to really dive in—to learn the basics and then build on those to create more complicated compositions. Today was the day. Zentangling—the only thing on my retreat’s agenda.

Normally, Impatient Mary would jump right into the first lesson, thinking “who needs all of this introductory hoohah?”—let’s get to the meat. But that day, feeling calm, rested, and relaxed, I started at the very beginning. One particular section of the authors’ introduction really spoke to me. So much so, that I copied it into my journal:

Influenced by our own Zentangle practice, we notice a subtle but important shift in how we respond to unexpected events. We are more at ease with a future that can surprise us because we have learned the value of focusing on the next step, not the next twenty steps, nor on how it all can or must turn out. The lessons of tangling—focusing on each stroke and not planning a specific outcome—lessen the pressure of having to figure out the whole puzzle. That gives us many benefits because as a situation unfolds, it often changes. When we give ourselves the flexibility to more gracefully respond to new developments, we are less likely to jump to hasty conclusions. We feel more empowered because each step we take (each stroke we make) adds another piece to the puzzle even if it does not immediately solve it. -Rick Roberts & Maria Thomas, the founders of Zentangle

Wow. Yes. The experience with the call about my mom’s fall immediately came to mind. All I needed to do was focus on the next step, which I’d somehow managed to do. The outcome was out of my control, as so many outcomes are.

By the end of the day, I’d worked through a couple of Zentangling lessons, and truly enjoyed the slow and deliberate process. Just me, in the library, with my sketchbook, pen, pencil, and silence.

The designs look complicated, but are actually simple, and quite meditative, mindfully drawn one stroke at a time. Before I knew it, I heard the gong calling us to dinner—Chili With Lily, where Lily is a dog.

On the morning of the third day, I rolled my little suitcase out to the car, where my husband and dog were waiting. There would be talking and barking and obligations in the day, but something in me had changed ever so subtly.

All I had to do was take the next step and let the future surprise me.

Dear Santa

By Posted in Letter-writing, Nostalgia, Santa! Tagged , , 5 Comments

Yesterday I was going through a thick file of papers and records from a job I left more than 21 years ago. Annual reviews, investment statements, publications, pay increases and decreases, and even a form stating that my attitude had become “negative” 😳 that I’d completely forgotten about. My two-page rebuttal to that statement refreshed my memory. I was on the project from hell, so yes, I was feeling frustrated. So much history there that I happily tossed into our recycling pile. That’s not me anymore.

As I worked through that overstuffed folder, I found a handwritten artifact from 1965 that had somehow been misfiled. A letter to Santa. My letter to Santa.

That’s my mom’s handwriting, which I always admired, on the envelope.

I’d carefully printed my letter. It probably took me forever to shape my thoughts, letters, and words.

Mousetrap was a game that my sister says we played so Santa must’ve come through that year. The request for a “saucer” threw me until I remembered that’s what we called the round aluminum thing that we sat on to fly down snow-covered hills.

I was careful to add my full name and age. (What—no Social Security number?!)

I got a Snow White watch that year—I can still remember the thrill of that gift. It felt so grown up. Apparently I was a 6-year old with a heavy schedule—people to see and places to go!

My dad penciled in “camera” when I ran out of room in the letter’s P.S. I’d know his handwriting anywhere.

How this little letter ended up in that work folder I do not know, but I’m so glad it did, and that I didn’t wholesale recycle those papers.

This is so me (I bought myself a little set of watercolor paints the other day!), with precious reminders of my mom and dad. It’s truly a magical gift from Santa.

Order Restored (yet again)

By Posted in Decluttering, Gratitude, Organization, Simple pleasures 3 Comments

There’s nothing like having someone over for Thanksgiving dinner to make you evaluate the problem areas in your home—like the desk that has become more of a dumping ground than a calm place to sit and write. Company’s coming! Clean up the mess! Dust all the things!

Which is what I did yesterday, and boy is the end result satisfying. Well worth the hour or so of the not-so-fun process. The familiar refrains of “Why didn’t I do this sooner?” and “I’ll never let it get out of hand again,” loop through my brain as I admire what is once again a fun place to write.

I fall in love with desks with alarming frequency, but as with stray kittens, you can’t bring them all home. I picked up this desk at a house sale years ago, where I’d gone expecting to buy nothing more than a kitchen gadget or two. But the desk with its drawers and slotted dividers spoke to me, so I literally ran home to grab my checkbook, and have never regretted the purchase.

Now it holds a number of my favorite things, and is, for the moment, well-polished and dust-free.

Multiple multi-pens! Yes, I DO need (and use) all of these!

I love the Rumi quotes that Galen Leather tucks inside their orders, so I keep them propped up as wise little reminders.

Though the hair isn’t quite right, there’s a strong resemblance between “Scientific Mary” and this mini-Lego character.

I even found this Karas Kustoms INK rollerball that had fallen out of sight. Bonus! A prize for cleaning up!

A smorgasbord of pencils at the ready.

Today is Thanksgiving here in the US. I am grateful for so much—for my sister who is joining us for dinner today, for the incentive her visit gave me to tidy up, for this secondhand desk that brings me joy, and, especially, for all of you.

With love and gratitude,
Mary (currently dust-free, mostly)

Who Are Your Human Mycelium?

By Posted in Community, Gratitude, Pen Community, The Book of Alchemy 6 Comments

Mycelium networks are vast, underground networks of fungal threads that connect plants and trees, often called the “wood-wide web”. These networks are vital for forest ecosystems, facilitating the exchange of water, nutrients, and chemical signals between plants. This communication allows trees to share resources with one another. -From somewhere on the internet

A recent reflection from The Book of Alchemy (can you tell I’m a fan?!) observed, “We are mycelium, a network that creates and sustains life and growth. We are not alone; no, we are very much connected.” And then the prompt, “Who makes up your human mycelium?”

After a little thought and a little coffee (or maybe a lot of both), I wrote my answer.

The use of parentheses is out of control (I plead, CAFFEINE!”), but the sentiment is there. We are a widespread and international family, supporting each other in largely unseen ways. You, the stationery community, are my human mycelium.

“You, my dear, are no Emily Dickinson!”

By Posted in Blackout poetry, Poetry Tagged , , 4 Comments

But I did write a poem. This morning. Before breakfast. Surely that counts for something.

Back in college I wrote a lot of poetry, mostly to escape the agony of Organic Chemistry which vexed me to no end. I much preferred to play with words than chemical bonds. Creative writing class always felt like a vacation from all of that science and math—a chance to come up for air in days spent struggling to unravel the mysteries of calculus and learning to titrate solutions by hand. I bumbled along with everything but words.

After witnessing an autopsy as part of my Medical Technology internship, I wrote:

I watched Dr. White slice a man
lengthwise
then clip out his heart
like a coupon
halve his brain
like a melon
while I stared
into the clean white gloss
of his empty head.

Though it’s been 45 years since that experience, this poem takes me right back to the hospital and that day.

But then, somewhere along the way, the poetry stopped. Just sort of dried up. Poof. Gone.

I missed the practice, the messing around with ideas and images and words, but apparently not enough to try my hand at poetry again. Until today, thanks (again) to The Book Of Alchemy which has me writing, writing, writing.

For a prompt called “Poetry by Erasure” by Natalie Warther, we were asked to “find a text to erase” to see what “rises up,” very much in the same vein as Austin Kleon’s Blackout Poetry, which I have aspired to try but never have. Until now.

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The prompt was just what I needed to give this type of poetry a shot. After a few fits and starts, I settled on a short article about Lake Champlain from the Adirondack Explorer magazine and went to town with my Sharpie.

Here’s what bubbled up:

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The punctuation is questionable and it’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a poem. Definitely not a great one, no “Hope is the thing with feathers…”, but the guts of a poem are there. And now I remember how fun it is to play with words, to choose them and place them and shuffle them around until the sound and the shape make me smile.

I wrote a poem. This morning. Before breakfast.

That felt good.

Catch and Release

By Posted in In my spare time, Pencil 6 Comments

It’s fall! It’s officially hunting season!

No, not “wabbits.” Or deer. Or ducks. Or turkey. And not in the woods or fields.

I stalk my prey here on our nightly strolls. Yes, the local middle school is my happy hunting ground.

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My hound, while cute, is not much of a retriever.

Even without Flapjack’s help, I catch ’em and bag ’em—pretty much on a nightly basis.

My prey? Not mammal or bird, fish or fowl, but the prized wild pencil.

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Kids apparently shed pencils like trees shed leaves, because hardly an evening goes by that I’m not capturing strays from the sidewalk, lawn, or curb.

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Ooooo…a twofer!

Sometimes they’re a little TOO far gone to save…

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Roadkill

…but usually they just need a little love and attention—cleaning with a sanitizing wipe, a quick sharpening, maybe a replacement eraser—then they’re ready to return to their natural habitat. I take them back to school to tackle long division, write out words like “accommodate” and “occasion” on the spelling test, and draw mitochondria.* This is where the pencils are happiest, even if they do sometimes suffer the effects of nervous chewing.

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This week’s haul—heavy on the Ticonderogas.

Before taking them back, I sometimes throw in a few of my own stash to boost the quality quotient. (Though I have to say, the Pen+Gear pencils—occasional finds—are surprisingly decent!)

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All bagged up with someplace to go.

Darkness arrives before 5 pm since Daylight Savings time ended yesterday. Evening expeditions will now require my LL Bean fleece hat with the built-in LED light. Even as the days get colder and darker, the thrill of the hunt never gets old.

Obligatory pencil-hunting gear

“Be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting pencils.”

*I have no idea if this is what goes on in middle school. I’m a retiree channeling 1972.

Fill ‘Em Up!

By Posted in Journaling, Life is short, Mindfulness, Pocket notebooks, Stickers, Using up notebooks 1 Comment

My morning journaling project continues to move right along. I haven’t missed a day yet, and am a little more than 25% through The Book of Alchemy’s 100-day journaling challenge. It’s been so good for me and my mood, and my pens which are now back to getting a regular work-out.

So while that morning writing project is chugging along splendidly, I’m also doing another form of journaling throughout the day. In late August, I stumbled onto a video about Interstitial Journaling that immediately appealed to me, and I knew that I had to give it a shot. (I urge you to watch the video—it’s less than 10 minutes long and well worth your time.) So many interactions, observations, experiences, and conversations happen in a day that we often barely notice—but they are the real stuff of life. What if I start cataloging these smaller moments like Steven talks about in the video, and like the Spanish Fighter Pilot that inspired him? You know me—I’m always interested in a new journaling experiment, AND I have plenty of pocket notebooks waiting to be filled. (I DO NOT want to die with a bunch of wrapped, pristine, unused notebooks!)

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The first page of the first journal

As one who has been known to fritter away time, this interstitial—or micro—journaling looked like a way to curb this tendency. Do I want to write down “Mindlessly scrolled through Facebook for 45 minutes”? No I do not. If I intentionally do so, that’s one thing, but if I’m just wasting time, that’s another.

In the beginning, I noted what I was doing as well as the exact time I was doing it, like in the video.

“6:50 pm Dust nightstand + straighten that up”

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But after a few days, the time thing became a little TOO “timey,” even for Miss Let’s-Write-Everything-Down. It did curb my tendency for procrastination, and helped me stay focused on the task or activity at hand, but jotting down every transition and the time associated with it got on my nerves and didn’t seem sustainable. I also wanted to write more than just a very brief note like “Had lunch,” or “Rode my bike.” Details. I’m all about the details.

Gradually I made this style of journaling my own. No timestamps. More meat on the journaling bones. I’m filling up pocket notebooks much faster than I ever have, with more detail than I’ve captured before.

I no longer get to the end of my day and wonder where the time went. I have a fairly complete accounting, but with more emphasis—and fleshed out details—on the scenes and stories from my day.

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There’s so much to capture, to be grateful for, to laugh about, and to remember.

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Along the way, I blew the dust off of my underused Sprocket printer and began adding 2″x3″ sticker photos to my entries. I really love the “scrapbook” look that’s developed, and the fact that my photos aren’t just living on my phone. They are now a part of the story, an illustration of the things I notice, the things I’m grateful for, the places I go, and the people I see.

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I’m seeing more—like really seeing more. All of the small and fleeting moments that make up a day. Like snails.

And graffiti.

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And the way the light hits the trees at sunset.

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And favorite places.

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I also adore stickers, so I’m liberally adding them to these logs.

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Sometimes I sneak in a simple sketch or two.

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Since I started this style of journaling in late August, I’ve filled up over five 48-page pocket notebooks, about one every ten days. Though that’s not the real point of this project, it IS satisfying to watch the “filled” pile grow at a very good clip. I can see myself running through a good chunk of my pocket notebook stash over the course of a year. And unlike my morning pages, which I have yet to revisit with any frequency, these filled pocket logs are fun to flip through to revisit a memory, recall a field trip, or relive time with a friend.

I’m so grateful that I stumbled onto that video about interstitial journaling, and that I’ve crafted a method that works for me. Words, photos, stickers, and drawings all come together in these mini-volumes to capture the joy, gratitude, laughs, and beauty scattered throughout my days. I’m noticing so much more, filling up notebooks faster than ever, and having a blast doing so. There’s almost nothing better than that.

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