I signed up for Pinterest quite awhile ago. I always try almost everything out that is new and looks interesting. Then I ignored Pinterest up until last week. My perusual of Pinterest suggested vast infiltration of pins and boards from the fairer and younger gender, young females, that is. Pins seemed to flutter around female attire, flowery and lacy doodads, and a zillion other efforts to organize and file information of little interest to me. Meanwhile, I was off on a Twitter crusade. I kept posting snide political comments on Twitter because I knew none of my family would likely ever see such comments, beings as how I am regarded as a hopeless degenerate Democrat. I ground my way up to about 400 followers, which have stayed constant over quite a few months. My posts on Curmudgeonly Professor were automatically reposted to Facebook and Twitter, so I still had some presence there. I had a sterling list of distinguished people I was supposed to follow. However, as time went on, too many Twitter posts were unintelligible mishmashes of hashtags, trivial nothings, and inside information understood maybe by the original poster and one potential postee. Meanwhile, the rest of us were scurrying and scrolling and trolling trying to find a Twitter tweet worth looking at. Maybe I just don't follow the right tweeters. But I seemed to waste a lot of time trying to follow stuff that just didn't make any, or much, sense. So I will keep my Twitter account and check it occasionally, posting from my blog. But my former true love, Twitter, is now fading as my former ardor has dissipated, having met my new and exciting best love, Pinterest.
Once I discovered I could use Pinterest for a giant filing cabinet to sort stuff I find on the internet, I was hooked. Ninety-eight percent of my affection was transferred from Twitter tweeting to Pinterest pinning. I first had to overlook the fact that the stuff I am interested in has a paucity of male pinners. Presumably males are busy working, gathering around the water cooler or going on coffee breaks while their dearly beloved spouses deal with broken water pipes, grubby sinks, piles of dishes, indelible stains in laundry, incorrigible but otherwise adorable children, and preparing for the most coveted moment of the day when overworked hubby comes in the door, asks "what's for dinner" and then heads for the remote and the couch. Since my wife ran into some health problems a couple of years ago, I have learned to feel very, very guilty for my shameful lack of support for cooking and housecleaning over the past 60 years. (Our sixty-first anniversary is coming late December). Thus, I have had to school myself in the fine culinary arts of gourmet cooking like beans and fried eggs, and trying to figure out how to get soap scum off shower doors. Enter Pioneer Woman and Mel's Kitchen Cafe, bless them both and all their cute kids. Actually, I have learned to make quite a few things, like Mel's "best clam chowder" ever, which my wife hates so I get to eat it for lunch for a week and it is very, very good.
Then behold, once I got used to the idea that my name, Dwight, didn't quite ring true with names like Doris and Isabel and Sandra and a million other female names, I gleefully started sorting recipes, food blogs, and cleaning posts and blogs and filing them all on wonderful, wonderful Pinterest. I once contacted Mel of the famed Mel's Kitchen Cafe, never expecting to hear back, that as far as I could tell I was her only male commenter. You can sign up for Pinterest and find my posts, to date, and follow my conscientious search for new and exciting stuff to file away on my Pinterest boards. My efforts have already paid off as I successfully cleaned my shower doors for the first time in 150 years with vinegar and dishwashing soap. Who knew?
So until a new and sexier and more wondrous cyber doodad comes along, I will remain true to my new and now truest love, Pinterest. Now I need to figure out how to use Pinterest and Etsy to see if we can sell a few of our wondrous photo greeting cards which are pretty darn spiffy if I do so say so. Happy pinning from the Curmudgeonly Professor