The Pinterest Phenomenon

Two in a row, guys. Two in a row. I am on a freaking streak.

As I am sure my seven (I think there are seven, I actually counted them out on my hand) readers know, I have been lacking in the blog-posting as of late. I don't have a real excuse, just a bunch of little ones. I am really busy. Nothing exciting is happening. Too much exciting is happening. But, really, I am just procrastinating because I feel like I have nothing good to say, and everything I say will be stupid, and not perfectly convey my thoughts in an artistic, yet witty manner. I call it the Pinterest Phenomenon. (I just made this up, so bear with me here).

Before Pinterest came around I felt like I was doing okay at my life. You know, I had a job, had some great kids, had a house, a social life, etc. etc. I never was a crafty person, and didn't really aspire to be one. I also never have had the means to really "do up" my house all fancy-like, nor did I have the desire to spend all weekend on a furniture project. That is, until Pinterest came along. Everything I saw on there, I wanted to do. Spray paint, chandeliers? Yes, please. It's just SO EASY. and HOW CUTE. Homemade gift bags for my kids' teacher's gifts. DUH. They MUST have them. So, I pinned and I pinned, happily. Stupidly.

Then, there's the fashion. The hairstyles. The workouts. The cocktails. The pallet coffee tables. The perfectly curated vegetable gardens. Look at all of the things I COULD have in my life, but I do not. I suck, thought I.

This also applies in the ways of the blogging world. I follow a few blogs of women who live seemingly perfect lives, with their adorably dressed children, their beautifully appointed homes, or their novel-worthy blog posts. Once again, I do not compare in any stretch of the imagination. So, I just stopped writing.

But, that is stupid. Because I really like writing. And, I don't really care what people think. They may think I am stupid. Or dorky. Or an idiot. Or whatever. I don't care anymore. You guys, I am driving a minivan from 1989 with three hubcaps and a crack in the windshield.  (by the way, thank you Ward, I don't mean to seem ungrateful). I have Star Wars decals on my family room walls. There is most likely a tiny pair of underwear on the bathroom floor. My backdoor screen is broken, and the dog goes in and out of it as he pleases (and so do my children.) Sam refuses to wear pants with buttons on them.

This is me. So, there it is. Expect a lot more blogging about my boring, imperfect life, with most likely some typos.