107. Pinterest, Shminterest : the top ten reasons to get rid of your Pinterest account

June 12, 2014September 1, 2015 / Apple Hill Cottage / 12 Comments

Apologies to Pinterest addicts…

I spend a couple of hours a week on Pinterest. I don’t check other people’s boards; I only pin something I like to my own. I have 15 boards, 212 pins and 17 followers. In the Pinterest World, I’m pretty much a nobody.

And that’s fine with me.

I started my Pinterest boards to keep track of ideas for each room in the cottage. As an idea file, it worked for awhile, until I wanted to get more specific. First came frustration, then estrangement, and now? I’m considering an annulment. I have done only one other top ten list, and it was a long time ago. So, here are:

The top ten reasons to get rid of your Pinterest account:

10. Pinterest is a reflection of our self-absorbed, materialistic culture; it has very few benefits. It is classified as social media, but there is minimal social interaction. It might be a good place to store recipes, but so is your bookmarks folder. It might be a good place to store links to photos you like, but then the links don’t work. It should be useful as a design board, but see #7 below.

9. Your own uploaded photos don’t look as good as ones you pin from the internet. I have beautiful photos that I’ve uploaded and they look fuzzy and blurry on my boards. I think they do it on purpose.

8. Pinterest is no respecter of copyright ownership or artistic integrity. Posted a cute photo? A good idea? Anyone can steal it under the innocent guise of pinning it to a board. I’ve done it myself. (Not lately.)

7. You can’t move pins around on your boards. Want to move a lamp or a pillow next to the couch you pinned three months ago? Hah, just try it! Makes it useless as a design board.

6. It actually keeps you from doing all those unfinished projects you already have stored in your craft room because you are too busy finding new and better items to do someday.

5. It quadruples Envy Potential. I mean, everyone has a better brownie recipe than you, right? Quadruple chocolate pecan brownie bites with salted caramel sauce and double praline whipped cream. Make it in ten minutes And it’s gluten free.

(This is a whole ‘nuther post — stay tuned!)

3. Time-suck. Nothing more needs to be said here. (My daughter suggests this should be reason #3, reason #2, and reason #1…)

not

1. It creates Dissatisfaction by encouraging you to want things you don’t need — expensive new clothes, giant white kitchens, giant backyard party spaces, giant elegant bathrooms, giant expensive furniture, a giant collection of more trinkets and stuff, and a giant new craft room to do all the pins you’ve just pinned and will never do.

I don’t know about you, but I have enough of those unfinished projects without Pinterest helping me along. (I know this, because I have just thrown many of them out!)

I don’t know about you, but I have enough stuff. (I know this, because I have just thrown a lot of it out!)

These are the unfinished projects that I kept…Yes, I threw just as many away. I know I am not alone in this; I wish I had all the money I’ve spent on craft projects that were never finished.

So as of today, I’m deleting the Pinterest link on my blog, and I’m getting rid of the Pin It button on my desktop. (That’s two of the twelve steps — is the next one apologizing to my unfinished projects?) 😊

Take a stand against the tyranny of pins!

106. These days…

June 2, 2014June 2, 2014 / Apple Hill Cottage / 15 Comments

“The purpose of art is washing the daily dust of life off our souls.” — Pablo Picasso

The last few weeks there has been a lot of daily dust on my soul. On my body too, as we sweep the city house clean of grime, stuff, and collected junk. Touching every single item that takes up space in this house, getting rid of the stuff that needs gotten rid of, and storing and keeping the sweet memories. It has taken its toll. Alternately at peace yet anxious, content yet wistful, it’s lovely to see the gardens beautiful again, the rooms freshly painted, the porches clean and inviting, and junk cleared out. For two years I’ve wanted to be at the cottage; these days I find myself wanting to be here at the city house, enjoying these last days before we sell it.

At work, too, it is the same. This is my last week. We must give up the old to embrace the new, and I’m ready to do that. But then I get sixty cards from students telling me how much they will miss me, thanking me for being in their lives, drawing me pictures of their favorite books, hugs goodbye, and I’m wistful again.

Beauty helps. I’m so glad that we are not moving in the winter. I can sit outside in the green and watch birds, take pictures of flowers, and feel the beauty of it all washing the dust away from my tired body and needy soul.

Buzzards aren’t usually photographed for their beauty. But the turkey buzzard on the barn roof was a beauteous sight. There he sat, with his wings stretched out — long enough for me to admire him, run inside to grab my iPhone, take his picture, and then admire him for a few more minutes. Soon he was joined by his mate, but as I was adjusting the camera, he flew away. I didn’t get the photo of two turkey buzzards on the barn roof.

It looks to me as if he is praising God for this sunny, glorious spring afternoon. Yes, I know that is anthropomorphism, (perhaps it sounds more acceptable if we make it a literary allusion and call it personification?) and he was probably just airing out his wings…

Yet it reminded me to stretch out my arms and praise God for the sweet beauty of these days.

105. Sundays at the Cottage

May 18, 2014November 21, 2020 / Apple Hill Cottage / 19 Comments

There’s been much chaos in my life lately….

Dashing between two houses, fixing up one to live in, fixing up one to sell, both of us working jobs, and trying to balance everything? I am failing BIG TIME!

We went into this with our eyes wide open; we knew it would be hard and busy and no downtime.

After two years? I’m tired. Mr. H. C. is tired. We have iron-poor blood. Burnout with a capital B; Exhaustion with a capital E. I just want to sleep for three weeks straight.

In about three weeks the job that I have loved for nine years will be ended, our city house will be on the market (or soon will be) and we will be gently moving all summer (or until the house sells) to this unfinished cottage.

(Please understand: I am not whining or complaining. I still love the cottage. I can’t wait to get here–I just want to wimp out about the rest of the work we have to do!)

To Do List

Just looking at this ToDoList makes me tired. (You might notice that Write Blog Post is not on the ToDoList.) And this is only my list; it doesn’t begin to cover Mr. H.C.’s list.

Lately we’ve only been at the cottage on Sundays. There’s no time to do projects, so it has been a day of rest for me. (Not for Mr. H.C. — he has to get the tractor out and mow because the grass is growing like it’s spring or something…)

At first I fought it and called it forced rest. But today I am sitting on the porch with my glass of cider, heeding these rules:

We need this weekly rest. God knew it and named it — Sabbath rest. It is restful to sit here and look at the sky and the trees and listen to the bird song and the trill of a woodpecker. Today it’s a little chilly, so I have a blanket and a kitty for warmth. Yes, there is a breeze.

There’s a ton of stuff I have to do. I see my ToDoList when I close my eyes. I hear the world’s voice in my worries: If you don’t get that house on the market by June, it will never sell. And then what will you do? You need to be more efficient with your time. Etc. Etc.

And then sometimes, when I’m listening, I hear the still, small voice: Peace my child. I am in control. Give me your worries and submit to my time.

That’s what a Sabbath rest is for, and it is why God ordained it. He knew we would never stop working, shopping, tending, doing, (add your verb here) long enough to listen for His voice.

And so for today, I am efficiently using my time — resting and listening and banishing any visions of a ToDoList that might flutter across my eyes.