Pinterest Rules of Play

Pinterest… you’ve got me.  And true to form it was FIRST introduced to me circa 2009 by Maria Rosa.  If there is anything coming, anything techy, anything cool, anything with any sort of edge or potential to molest the masses, Maria Rosa gets it first.  It’s like she takes it’s virginity and then sends it out to the world.  She is pop culture’s de-flowerer.  Twilight?  When they were in hard back, first publication.  Keurig?  Hers was delivered from Sweden.  Tyler Durden?  Back when he was still with the big-titted Asian.  For everyone that has to listen to my monotone, non-topical drivel… How many of my stories start with, “My friend Mary…”?  So Pinterest… I remember when she first linked me up, back when we had careers that allowed us ample time to chat via gmail, I remember looking at the format, my cyber-saliva-glands started to moisten, and I thought, “No, it’s too much” and exed the eff out of there.  Now… nearly three years later, I jumped on the wave that nearly everyone is riding.  I just found her on there, 0 boards, 0 pins, 33 likes.  See?  She’s over it.  Which means, that in nearly three years, we will all be over it too.

I should re-name this post, “The Barometer.” 

I’ve set up some rules for myself as I test the waters of pinterest, mostly because I don’t need one more, NOT ONE MORE, distraction from real life.  But I do need a place to organize some ideas and create a visual representation of our future house.  When we got married waaaayyyy back in 2004, I actually used a glue stick and scissors to create a visual board to communicate with those involved in the planning what exactly this bride wanted.  For some reason “rustic, like with mason jars, and daisies, and strings of lights” didn’t translate until there were clippings of mason jars, daisies, and strings of lights.  Allan and I are jointly using my account to form a visual guide for what we want in our home, which is slated to be built in (pick a year far away but not so far away the trailer falls in on us before we break ground) 2017.  That way the girls will be seven… old enough to swing a hammer if you ask me. 

My second rule… I’m not following anyone.  Well, maybe one or two people, based solely on the fact that their style is close to mine.  I don’t want to see what your visions are.  I want to figure out what my vision is.  Plus, I get enough of your shit on other social sites.  Kidding!          Kinda.

Rule #3…  Only one craft.  ONLY ONE.  And I must execute it or unpin before even CRUISING for a new one.  I’ve made a scarf.  Up next… a dolman shirt out of one of Allan’s old t-shirts.  His t-shirts are in serious trouble.  Just hanging there, waiting to be cut up and repurposed.  I can smell fear on his side of the closet.

Speaking of closets… Ours is coming out today!!  Scary!  Our house is small, but we use the space well.  But when you eliminate TWO functioning rooms, in this case the closet and the master bath, the house gets infinitely smaller.  And having to address the hundreds of bottles of fragrant beauty that have inhabited the bathroom… oh, it’s torture!!  I found a small tube of Christian Dior eye cream.  Why haven’t I been using you?  And now that I have to be ruthless about tossing shit that I don’t want to crowd into our front bathroom, why do my eyes suddenly need to be creamed?  And why do I want to smell like Hawaiian Ginger when I haven’t wanted to smell like that EVER since purchasing the lotion set in 2005?  Why the sudden, powerful need to put on purple eyeshadow? WHY NOW?  So, as I was boxing up the bathroom, I moisturized my neck, creamed my eyes, applied four different fragrances in six different forms of application, put on purple eye shadow and frosty white lipstick.  Even liquid liner that was so old I could peel it off in one strip after it dried. 

Then, unceremoniously, it all got thrown away. 

Today, walls are getting torn down.  Finally.