This? Why, I Can Make A Hat Or A Brooch Or A Pterodactyl . . . .

Reason number 38 to move to Costa Rica and enjoy more free time:

Pinterest is the answer. 

What was the question?

I lived a happy life until . . . one day my friend Sally spoke one word: Pinterest. Blah, blah, blah. Another Internet site in which I have zero interest. Like Facebook. But wait, Sally insisted, I must show you the miracle that is Pinterest, how it works, and what you can do with it. I patiently, if not enthusiastically observed the demo. So Pinterest was fine for someone like Sally. Someone who has crafty coursing through her veins. Someone who can take an antique ironing board and make art (she really can . . . and that was years before that detestable portmanteau: Pinterest). 

Years pass.

One Sunday morning Rusty was staring at his laptop laughing uncontrollably (I love the sound of Rusty’s laughter . . . and no, that’s not sarcasm). What on earth produced this coffee-spewing laughter? Pinterest. In fact it was one of Sally’s boards. Now if you don’t know what a Pinterest board is, count your blessings, and let’s move along. 

Before I knew it, Rusty had boards. Then he had followers. By the time we were under contract for our home in Samara, Rusty was ready for Pinterest rehab. This strikes me as pitiful . . . a lame existence without purpose. Vicarious living through the art/ideas/quotes/project of others. But in Rusty’s case, he actually produces art inspired by Pinterest. Not copies, but original art. Papier maché sculpture (many of which have sold), carved wooden tiki and moai sculptures, wooden utensils . . . the list goes on.

I visited Rusty’s Pinterest site the other day. This is what I found. This and 809 ideas for tree houses. Should I be concerned?

So I concede . . . I’ve got one foot on the running board of the Pinterest bandwagon. I find ideas for my fused glass on Pinterest. But as for 99.9% of everything else I search for on Pinterest, I am convinced that it’s all a lie. 

Somebody probably visited the studio of a genuine artist in some remote corner of the planet . . . probably Iceland, photographed an $8,000 piece of artwork, and pinned it as their own. Equally frustrating are the thousands of oh-so-cutesy crafts with the caption “one day I’m going to do this” [insert harsh expletive here] [and again here]. Don't give me this one day I'll . . . crap. Get off your arse and find out for yourself . . . it's all lies.

I’ve tried these crafts. Let me tell you, painting Mason jars with the precise ratio of Modge Podge (yes, I own Modge Podge) to acrylic paint then baking them in the oven at the precise temperature for the precise time does not work! It’s a lie! Somewhere the Mason jar factory is producing tinted Mason jars for sale, and some Pinterest pilferer has pinned it as their own. Those 1001 ideas for paint chip samples? LIES! Nine thousand reasons that you should never throw away the cardboard roll from toilet paper or paper towels? More lies. My idea of being crafty is juggling several cocktails while preparing dinner and sorting my T-shirts by order of their permanent stains. Where's the pin explaining how to remove red Costa Rican earth using vodka and baking soda? Hmm?

Now here’s the truly frightening part. One day you stumble upon a craft so easy that it’s even marked 40 Ideas to Entertain Your Four-Year-Old With An Empty Plastic Soda Bottle. And the photo looks like a Chihuly masterpiece. So this is going to be great, right? You click on it and are directed to a Taiwanese dating site. Again, lies!

There are boards about naming boards . . . about organizing, promoting, or copying boards. Truly, it's a world gone mad.

So what am I doing today? I’m making a Christmas tree from 57 saved toilet paper cardboard rolls. After all, 'tis the season.

Yes, I drank the Kool-Aid, spit it out, and returned for more. So I definitely deserve whatever I'll get from those 57 cardboard rolls, white spray paint, hot glue, tissue paper, and food coloring. I know that I was looking for something a little more fulfilling than coloring a parrot, but this has disaster, burned and stained hands, and costly clean-up written all over it.  Lo que hay.