How Pinterest Ruins My Life, pt. II

If you have a Pinterest account and the slightest urge to use it, you already know that it is crack.  It is the most addictive, dirty drug in the entire world, made by a psychotic 12 year old using Lego dust and battery acid.


I think my biggest problem with Pinterest (beside the time suck part) is that it causes you to risk huge portions of humiliation and defeat by convincing you that deep inside, just waiting to be released, is an artistic, creative sort of person.  You're crafty!  You can knit that hat!  You're environmentally conscious!  You can "upcycle" and "repurpose" that shabby old dresser! (kill me now.  I just used "upcycle" and "repurpose".  In the same sentence.  I can hear my brother gagging from here.)  You're just as talented as the artisan in Austin, Texas, who makes yarn wreaths like this:

Then sells them for $58 dollars because she's been in Better Homes and Gardens and you haven't.  

Pinterest makes you believe that you can go to Michael's, and for $20, get all the raw materials to make your own yarn wreath, with the expensive one as inspiration.

And you honestly believe that it will not only be on par with the picture you pinned, but that most likely it will be better.

Curse you, Pinterest.

But let me back up, so you can appreciate the fullness of my humilation at the hands of Pinterest.

One of the walls in the Barracks hallway has three paintings on it.  It looks like this:

Three of the kids painted me pictures one day, and were particularly aggressive about getting them hung.  And I don't know about you, but when cornered by three little people brandishing paint-filled brushes in my general direction, I will always acquiesce to their demands.  So that's how I ended up with:

R2D2, by Joaquin Donaldson, rendered in watercolors and marker

Orca Breaching, by Lotus Donaldson, rendered in acrylics

Pirate Ship!  Argh!  Pirate Ship With Pirates Using Canons!  BOOM!, by Jude Donaldson, rendered in acrylics, watercolors, glitter, and unidentified objects found on the dining room floor.

An unusual and challenging grouping, to be sure, but there it is.  My other two artists refused to be part of such a controversial exposition, and so I only had to find space and frames for three.  Which left the hallway of the Barracks looking like this:

What to do with that empty space above the cabinet?  How to fill it?  What could I fill it with that would bring in elements from the art display to the right?  Where could I ever find a piece that would complement such artistic talents?


Enter Pinterest.


So I went to Michael's, got my $20 in supplies, and went to make a yarn wreath of my very own, in colors that would complement the other pieces in the hall.  It would be lovely!  It would be artistic!  It would be 1/3 the price of a bought wreath!


As I spent two evenings hand crafting what was shaping up to be, in my mind, something even better than the inspiration piece, I noticed Ken and the big kids eyeballing my creation.
"What?"  I asked.  They quickly averted their eyes, and began studying the ceiling.
"What?!"  I asked again.  Probably they just couldn't believe how awesome this project was turning out.
It was Lotus who said it first.  "Oh!  I get it!  You're making a life preserver!  That's really good, Mama!  It looks just like one!"


What?  A life preserver?  What the...?  And then, Ken said the same thing the next evening.  "How's your life preserver project going?"
Clearly they were all in need of a visit to the eye doctor.  I showed them my inspiration piece on Pinterest.  They nodded, began whistling, and wandered off.  
Quickly.


Humph.  I'd show them.  Finally, after hours of yarning and felting and cutting and hot gluing, my creation was done.  Like a beautiful swan coming from an ugly duckling, I took this:

and improved upon it by adding my creative, artistic, genius touches, ending up with this:

What the...?  Oh my gosh, it kind of DOES look like a life preserver!  No, it's just the light, right?  Certainly when placed in the setting for which it was created it would spring to life, right?  

Life Preserver with Bird, by Cari Donaldson, yarn, felt, natural objects.

Curse you, Pinterest.  Curse you with the fire of a thousand suns.  Curse you for encouraging our silliness.  Curse you for being so slick and pretty that we know we'll come back again tomorrow to do it all over again.

(also posted in "Pinning it Down" at Amongst Lovely Things)