Some high school friends and I have been trying to meet up for quite a while since Christ was a child. 

The thing is, it would totally require less communication to try to broker peace in the middle east. This is not a dog on my friends (in case my peeps are reading—clarification to follow—stay with me and put the scanner with the Aqua Net photos from high school DOWN!)

Even though we mostly all live within an hour and a half radius of each other, the last time we all managed to meet for lunch, I think George Bush was still Prezzy—and I swear we’ve been trying to get together again ever since.

You know what happens. You finally get together and get your high school on— or whatever the crowd may be— and the last thing you say, very sincerely, as you part ways is, “It is RIDICULOUS how long it’s been. It was so great to see you. We have to do it again and not wait so long next time!” Kiss, kiss, hug, hug, and boom. There you are a year later with nothin’!

Everyone is busy these days. We all get it. You throw kids and activities and sports and jobs and husbands and travel schedules into the mix and its one hot scheduling mess. This isn’t a problem reserved just for my (formerly) peg leg posse. Although we all have much better hair and pants now (PTL! PTL!), I’m not sure we’ve ever been busier.

IT HURT SO MUCH TO LOOK SO GOOD---THAT I HAD TO SHUT MY EYES AND SAVOR THE MOMENT. THE HEADBAND, THE POOFY HAIR....OH THE MEMS.

See, it all starts out innocently enough….we all have a genuine desire to get together. Problem is, when a half dozen moms try to make plans with their friends, it takes 47 emails back and forth to each other on where to meet, when to meet, what time to meet, what to wear and if it’s with kids or no kids.

When dads make plans with their friends, one email goes out…the one the original guy sent throwing out a date and a place, and one email back from each guy saying if they can make it that day or not. Period. The end.

It’s just assumed if they can make it, then the time and place are fine. No one writes back to say, “My friend’s sister JUST went there and said the service was terrible! Should we pick a different place?”

And kids? What kids? None of the guys even wonder if kids are invited. They just assume they’ll just leave them at home with mom.

And if everyone can’t go that day, then what-ever, only those who can go, go, and they figure they’ll catch up the next go around with whoever can’t make it. There are no alternate dates thrown back and forth and no deep regret and guilt if someone can’t go. If a guy can’t make it, he just says, “Sorry dude, I can’t make it,” or “that date doesn’t work for me”. And what he means by that is….”Sorry dude, I can’t make it.” or “That date doesn’t work for me.”

What he doesn’t say?

“Well I really can’t make it if it’s at noon. See, my cousin’s son is visiting from Oshkoshbagosh that day—he has a soccer tournament down in Rhode Island—their team is undefeated— even though they have two players out with mono and a sprained knee–and he’s supposed to come up afterward for a short visit—maybe lunch but I’m not sure. He might be gone by early afternoon though, which would mean I could go IF we could meet after 4. But if it’s before like 4, I don’t think I can make it. Do you think we could meet after 4? After 4 would work—wait—oh wait a minute…yeah, after 4 would work as long as it’s not more than an hour away. If it’s more than an hour away though, then I really can’t make it because I’d need to be back to put Muffy Junior to bed. She has a big piano recital in the morning. And it’s 45 minutes away. And they are really counting on her because the other girl just moved to Lichtenstein. I think her dad is some big wig for some company…oh what is it? I don’t know, I think they make lederhosen…or is it Vodka? I don’t know. He has a BIG job with a BIG company. Sweet girl. I hope she loves Switzerland. So what do you think? Can we make this work? OH! We also need to find a restaurant that has some gluten free options. And I also don’t eat meat anymore. Or dairy.”

To the bar we go! Charge!

Kidding. Not really.

See, this is a guaranteed mine field for the organizer/original emailer. Because if you send out a subsequent email about how Muffy can make it only if it’s after 4, but only if it’s not more than an hour away, you need to calculate how far away the meeting spot is from Muffy’s AND you have others emailing you back saying they can’t meet that late because they have a church/Boy Scouts/lacrosse practice/barium enema “thing”.

And that? That’s when the whole damn tete a tete starts to unravel and you realize you might never see these people until the next administration or maybe….gasp….ever.

Usually at that point all communication breaks down because now there are more questions than answers about where, when and even if this ‘thing’ is still on! Which…starts a whole other litany of emails…..and at some point you have to play the heavy and just pick a date, a time, and a place based on the majority and hope something sticks.

Because even if you do manage to beat the odds and firm up a date, place and time, it’s guaranteed that someone won’t be able to come at the last minute because her husband is sick, her kid is sick, her husband ends up having to work, she ends up having to work/walk in a Brownie parade/broker a peace treaty.

OMG! I JUST WANTED A LITTLE BRUNCH...SOMETHING QUICHY AND MAYBE SOME VINO?! BY THE TIME I BOOK IT, WE'LL BE ROCKING THE AARP DISCOUNT!

Perhaps if I get this lunch scheduled with perfect attendance, I should ring up Madame Secretary at the White House and offer my services? Come on, Hillary! You have people book shit for you! Brokering peace has to be easier than this. Don’t even tell me Ahmadinejad is more difficult to deal with than a pack of soccer moms! And she gets PAID. Paid!

(The plans for a weekend away with college friends who live all over the East Coast and Midwest are going….splendidly! Actually, I need professional help. And a migraine pill. Washed down with moonshine. Shut up.)

A few months ago, a friend sent me an invitation to something called, “Pinterest”. Have you heard of it? I didn’t know what it was at first so I did what I always do when I don’t know what something is….nothing. (I put the I in initiative.) Then I got another invitation so I took the next step, set up an account under my alias, Muffintopmommy, and promptly forgot all about it. Til one day a few weeks ago when a funtastic muffintopper pointed me to a recipe blog called skinnytaste (nom, nom, low fat goodness!) whose glorious recipe pictures led me back to……Pinterest.

People? 2012 is the year I met my personal crack cocaine.

It was a circuitous route, but like all addicts, I perservered. And once I got there? It was the point of no return—I was ALL in. So now what? Naturally, Iwanna do like most good junkies do…. give others a taste and suck you all down my wayward path. That’s right. After being asked several times last week by friends what Pinterest is, I feel it is now my obligation to spread the good word. (I’m not going door to door. That’s just silly. It’s January in New Hampshire and this territory is owned by Girl Scouts right now. Have you ever tried to cross a sash clad, ponytailed, four foot tall ninja carrying an order form for the holy grail of minty cookies? Don’t. Just don’t. Just smile and give them all your money.)

Wanna come along? Consider this Pinterest 101. Right here. Right now. Time to woman up. This isn’ t for sissies. And it can be confusing. After one friend emailed me asking me to explain it and why it was so addictive, I sent her an email that I thought made sense, to which she responded:

“Ok, I think I kind of get it.  I can pin things to my board and they will stay there if I want to go back to them?  Do you share stuff with others?  I take it back…I don’t think I get it at all.”

She seemed down, so I emailed her back, “You is smart. You is kind. You is important.” Thank you, Pinterest, for reminding me of that phenomenal quote from The Help! I love you Aibileen, I love you!

People who are smart, kind, and important still often can’t grasp the concept of Pinterest because you see, it’s one of those things that’s harder to explain than it is to actually do. I know that sounds weird, but my best recommendation is to jump in with both feet and try it. You do need an invitation from someone who’s already on Pinterest. I know, it’s super exclusive. That’s why I am surprised I got an invite. (But really…if you need an invite, email me and I’ll send you one.)

So here’s my best stab at ‘splaining it. Pinterest is a virtual pinboard. Did you ever cut out pictures from a magazine of things you liked… a fun outfit? A wedding dress? A cool looking kitchen? A yummy recipe? And pin them to an actual corkboard? (Yeah, me neither, but I kinda wish I did.) I hear people who aren’t like me (read:organized) do, or they carefully file these clippings away for future reference/inspiration.

Well now, even disorganized dopes with no initiative can display everything we love! The really crack coke part of it is, you can follow what others display too, and “repin” what they have displayed on your corkboards. And you can have dozens and dozens of corkboards showcasing anything and everything your muffin top desires! For example, I have categories like, “The Yummies” for recipes, “The funny” for hilarious sayings, “Shoes and clothes and shoes, oh my!” for houses (Der, clothes and shoes! Just making sure you’re paying attention–this is so not important!) ,  and “Let’s Get Physical” for exercise tips. I even have a board called, “People I Want To Have A Beer With” and “People I’m Allowed To Cheat On The Hubs With”! Calm down! Stop calling me Newt. It’s just for funnies and let’s face it, Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights isn’t into me hasn’t returned any of my  calls, text messages, or emails.

And who doesn’t love a trip down memory lane? Someone’s pin totally brought me back and led me to the greatness of this 70′s commercial:

Time for Timer!

Makes me teary. And inspiration? Is at your fingertips, my friends!

Can you even guess where I found this fat-tastic weight loss inspiration? Who needs to pay for Weight Watchers! Pfft!

 So pin those yummy recipes, Julia! Showcase the most fashionable outfits you’ll never fit into or be able to buy, Gisele! Pine away for that perfect porch to have a cocktail on, Martha! Be inspired to conquer your muffin top, um, Muffintopmommy!

See, Pinterest is almost like the life we wish we had or everything we aspire to be: in shape, well dressed, well spoken, well intentioned, grammatically correct, repurposing, funny, inspirational, selves……..who drive fantastic cars, cook like famous chefs, sip gorgeous cocktails on sweeping verandas whilst taking time to smell the perfectly pruned hydrangeas.

Mama can dream. Mama.can.dream. Don’t we all deserve a break, if only virtual, from cars covered in winter’s salt, shirts we bought because they were on clearance at Target, and humdrum dinners we could assemble in our sleep?

But hey, just don’t blame me if you’re soon writing status updates on your Facebook page like I did last week:

Dear Pinterest, thanks for making me hungry, hate my clothes, and want a new baby. I would complain, but your inspirational messages prevent me from not appreciating the wonderful kids I have, the (mediocre) food I cook, and (nerd herd) clothes I wear! Well played, Pinterest, well played.

Don’t hate the playah, just hate the game.

**You can even pin blogs! But apparently putting a pinterest button on my blog so you can follow me or pin my blog….is above my pay grade. I tried. And failed. On Pinterest, I’m much more talented…..so if you’re looking for me? Try there. And if anyone finds a blog post giving the 411 on that, pin it baby, pin it!