The start of a new year always feels a little like standing on the edge of Andy’s bed: everything familiar behind you, and an open horizon ahead. There’s excitement, a touch of uncertainty, and the quiet question: where are we headed next?
This season, that question feels especially layered. As a mom, a business owner, and someone deeply rooted in the Portland community I call home, the new year isn’t just about what I’m building, it’s about what I’m modeling, nurturing, and carrying forward for the little eyes watching from the sidelines of my life.
At its heart, my work (and my personal life if I’m being honest) has never been about resolutions. It’s about intention. It’s about choosing to show up again and again with care, creativity, and a profound respect and understanding for the stories I’m trusted to hold.
Because if there’s one thing Toy Story reminds us, it’s this: the magic isn’t in the toys themselves, it’s in the meaning we attach to them.
Every celebration begins with a spark. Sometimes it’s a bold, Buzz Lightyear kind of vision- big dreams, expansive ideas, a few “to infinity and beyond” moments scribbled in the margins of a notebook. Other times, it’s quieter. Thoughtful. Rooted. A little more Woody- steadfast, sentimental, and personal.
My role has always lived somewhere between those two.
Yes, planning requires timelines and logistics. But more than anything, it’s about understanding what makes a moment feel like home, honoring generational roots, celebrating milestones, and creating spaces where people feel seen, connected, and part of something meaningful.
I’m often reminded that growth doesn’t always mean reinventing yourself. Sometimes it means refining. Listening more closely. Building on trust. Honoring the past while making room for what’s next.
I find myself leaning into collaboration the way the Toy Story crew leans on one another: with trust, loyalty, and the comfort of knowing you’re not doing it alone. As a mom, I’m reminded daily how much life is built in community- in carpools, shared snacks, last-minute help, and the friends who show up when it matters most. It feels similar in my work. The most meaningful celebrations aren’t created by one person, but by a circle of people coming together with care and intention.
But what matters most is the feeling underneath it all: the warmth, the familiarity, the sense of belonging. Because the celebrations that stay with us aren’t the most elaborate; they’re the ones that feel true to who we are and the people we love.
Here’s to 2026. To creativity with heart, stories worth telling, and gatherings filled with meaning.
And to the little voice at home (hi, Maddox!) who reminds me daily, with full confidence and a raised arm, that we can go “to infinity… and beyond.” 💫
KT
