Has Pinterest started a cultural shift?

Posted by random olio

Some of my friends have become Martha Stewart moms. On Facebook I see photos of the amazing Valentine’s Day cards they have made for their children to take to school. They are clever and creative cards. They completely blow away the cards we pulled out of a box, sorted through, selected our favorite for the friends we liked the most, signed our name, folded, and shared. With the addition of Pinterest to the social media scene, I see moms outdoing themselves from the plethora of ideas and possibilities in front of them to create fun ideas.

Blast back to the past (yes to the 80’s) when the triangle on your butt was the most important thing. Were you wearing name brand jeans? Were they Guess or a knock off brand? Many times your place at school and in a clique of friends had to do with what you wore or had. Sad, yes, but true.

my Pinterest boards…

Has there been a cultural shift? Is Pinterest part of that shift?

Yes. By giving moms (and no I am not leaving you out dads, I just see more of these photos from my girl-friends), easy access to ideas that they can “pin” to a bulletin board and pull out during holidays, school events, etc. With direct access to how to execute on a project, we have born an organic DIY revolution of moms to become very creative and industrious. It has brought back my youth, and it is the new thing. I can remember many times when my mom made my clothes and I was embarrassed by it (there was no brand label). Many of the gifts from my childhood were homemade, and I hated it. If only I could go back to that time and appreciate those special moments more.

So, thank you, Pinterest for the cultural shift you have brought to homes. You’ve empowered moms to be creative, try new things, and hopefully in the process they have included their kids in the make-your-own Valentine Pinterest style.

Clean sheets and feather pillows…

Posted by random olio

What does home mean to you? I was recently inspired by a blog post on Home by DesignSponge. It made me start to think about the different homes, dorm rooms, apartments, and condos I have lived in throughout my life. What made them home to me? My response: lots of things.

Growing up I do not remember specific things that made me feel at home. I guess I never had futuristic thinking or knowledge to know that after the age of twelve, I would never have a room to come home to that was my own. Once I learned that, I began to make each current “home” as comfortable to me as possible. In college that meant that my bed was the best place in my dorm room. I saved up from babysitting so I could purchase a feather bed, a feather comforter, amazing sheets, and, you might have guessed it, feather pillows. It was my home.

Gradually over the years, my bed was still very important, and I maintained the high quality sheets and of course, feathers, but as the size of my home evolved from a dorm room to an apartment, to a condo, to a house, so did my expanded of sense of home. Now, my sense of home is still very rooted in my actual house. My bed, the art, how it is organized, how clean it is, etc. all ground me and make me feel comfortable and at home.

Just like the saying goes: “Home is where the heart is.” That is true, and so in true form, Chris is my home. When we are together in someone else’s home, in a hotel, whenever or wherever we are together, I feel at home. One of my favorite things to do is to continue to make our house our home…together.

One last thing. I want to create a print and frame it that says: “You are responsible for the energy you bring into this home.” This is something that I have thought about over and over again in the past year. What energy am I bringing into other people’s homes and vice versa. What if we always thought of that before we enter any home, workplace, or commercial establishment?

We are only responsible for ourselves.

The sound of her voice…

Posted by random olio

A few weeks ago, I finished reading “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed. She is the author that wrote “Wild” which is about her experience hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. “Tiny Beautiful Things” is a compilation of many “Dear Sugar” advice columns from The Rumpus. At times these columns tore me apart. Like this excerpt from one of her columns:

“It will never be okay, and yet there we were, the two of us more than okay, both of us happier and luckier than anyone has a right to be. You could describe either one of us as ‘joy on wheels,’ though there isn’t one good thing that has happened to either of us that we haven’t experienced through the lens of our grief. I’m not talking about weeping and wailing every day (though sometimes we both did that). I’m talking about what goes on inside, the words unspoken, the shaky quake at the body’s core. There was no mother at our college graduations. There was no mother at our weddings. There was no mother when we sold our first books. There was no mother when our children were born. There was no mother, ever, at any turn for either one of us in our entire adult lives and there never will be.” Page 98

One of the few photos I have of just my parents…

Tears in my eyes. Reminders of the many events and milestones in my own life that I experienced motherless and fatherless. No parents at my college graduation. Or my wedding. I have yet to sell a book, or have a child, but if I ever do, my mom and dad will not be present. Yes, you can tell me they are there in spirit. That will be true, but it does not replace the feeling and the wonder of what it would be like to see their face, to have them hold me, or to tell me they are proud of me. Nothing can replace that. You might also say to me, but how do you know if you would still be close to them? How do you know if your relationship would exist in a way that you would want them there? I would tell you I cannot answer that. I do not know. So instead I have the anticipation of what it would be like. It is like having a dream that you have over and over again, but you always wake up at the same time. So you never really know what happens. You never get to that place in the dream.

Strayed lost her mother at a young age, and after losing her mother, her stepfather (who basically raised her) stopped all contact with her. In a different column Strayed shared a poignant reminder for me:

“I haven’t had parents as an adult. I’ve lived so long without them and yet I carry them with me everyday. They are like two empty bowls I’ve had to repeatedly fill on my own.” Page 307

This is how I have often felt. My mom has been gone for more years than I ever spent with her. It has been 18 years. She died when I was 16. While she will always be a part of my life, there are days when I struggle to remember what she looked and smelled like. The hardest part is that I can barely remember the sound of her voice.

“Routine doesn’t deserve its bad reputation.”

Posted by random olio

I am in the middle of reading “Happier at Home” by Gretchen Rubin. You might have heard of her book: “The Happiness Project” which I read last year. “Happier at Home” brings The Happiness Project to her home, where she looks for ways to make her life happier with a specific focus on her home. She breaks it up into different areas she wants to focus on each month. One of the areas that resonated with me while reading over the weekend was her section on routine.

Usually I have a love/hate feeling about routines. Part of me loves the competition I have with myself to stick to a routine. Part of me feels like it makes me completely boring, dull, and unadventurous to follow a routine each day. I have quite a few routines. I have a green smoothie every morning. I eat basically the same lunch everyday. I go crazy if I do not get a run in each day. I like to stay up-to-date on my email as much as possible. An overflowing inbox makes me feel out of whack. For some reason these so-called routines that I have help me feel like I have just a bit more control over something in my life, when so many of the other aspects of life I have no control over. This all came into my thought after reading this quote from Rubin’s book:

“Routine doesn’t deserve its bad reputation. It’s true that novelty and challenge bring happiness, and that people who break their routines, try new things, and go to new places are happier, but routine can also bring happiness. The pleasure of doing the same thing, in the same way, every day, shouldn’t be overlooked. The things I do every day take on a certain beauty and provide a kind of invisible architecture to my life. Andy Warhol wrote, ‘Either once only, or every day. If you do something once it’s exciting, and if you do it every day it’s exciting. But if you do it, say, twice or just almost every day, it’s not good any more’.” page 147

In my own way my routine does bring me happiness. I can do these specific things in my life and not have to overly think about them. I do not have to agonize over what to make for breakfast or lunch. I feel so much calmer and collected after my run. These routines ground me. They bring a balance to my life and that makes me happier.

What do you think? Does routine bring you happiness, or does it feel like it drags you down?

You are not a Wuss…

Posted by random olio

As a child, when I fell down or hurt myself my dad always told me to get up and buck up, that I was strong, and to brush it off.

I remember one time that I will never forget (and yes this story might sound strange). We were shucking dozens and dozens of ears of corn. I grew up in Indiana and yes the vegetable of Indiana is corn. Lots of it, everywhere. So the one fresh vegetable we always had in abundance was corn. We had a freezer in the garage that housed frozen corn and Icee pops (remember those)! Corn was at the time my favorite vegetable, considering that I disliked all vegetables with a vengeance. Now, things have changed and I rarely eat corn. I kind of think it just goes through you and does not do much for nutritional value. I like the darker, green, leafy vegetables at this stage in my life.

I digress. My sister and I were sitting on the front porch shucking corn ears. We had been through dozens of ears, when I felt a sharp pain in my thumb. There was a piece of glass in the ear of corn. How it got in the corn under the husk, I will never know or understand. I ran inside to put my bleeding thumb under the kitchen sink to clean it. I then passed out and was on the floor of the kitchen.

My dad comes into the kitchen where my sister has let him know I have passed out. When I came to I was completely freaking out about my thumb. It hurt a lot and was still bleeding and there was still a piece of glass in it. Once my dad gets the glass out, he sort of yells at me to stop being a baby. I think I always felt like he was yelling at me, and maybe he was, but now I wonder if he just wanted me to be strong. Compared to his capacity for pain as a contractor (nails in fingers, fiberglass, etc) this was nothing. To me it was such a big deal. To this day I dislike shucking corn.

So dad, while I did not appreciate it then, I appreciate your constant urging to be strong and to not cry over spilled milk or some blood. Although still to this day I pass out if I see too much blood. Some things never change, but some things do make us stronger.