Crafting to forget about your own death.. Written by: Molly Tallon, author and creator at Room For Cream

So now that you have a steady job, a long term partner and maybe a furry or human baby or two… you can stop wringing your hands over the whole “will I die alone in a basement entry studio apartment clutching a liter of  Yellowtail Chardonnay?” question and just start thinking… 

Oh my God. I am literally going to die one day.  And it will probably be from a terrorist attack, or a nuclear bomb, or some freak global warming enhanced weather event. 


Is it today? Tomorrow? Is that ringing in your ears  a sleeping brain tumor waiting to take you down suddenly in a Target parking lot? It’s not the brain tumor that scares you as much as shitting yourself to death in front of strangers. 

Everytime your doctor’s office calls, the panic sets in… (Like The Nothing from Neverending Story has finally arrived  and you can’t remember that baby bitch’s name?!?!?!!)

Is today the day I find out I have cancer? What would I do? Finally get on that plane to Thailand? Leave a series of notes to my mom that she could option for a screenplay? Kill myself right away? Go to Sweden where they will inject the tears of unborn fetus’ into my brain stem? Those Swedes are fancy and creative. 

… But then you find out it’s just an ulcer or adult onset allergy to Legumes. Dodged a bullet. 

This is where a nice clean crafting hobby comes in. The drugs are no longer sustainable for a working adult… alcohol no longer helps you forget about your problems… and you’re too responsible for that one way ticket to Thailand where you can literally live on the beach giving blow-jobs to hot Australian surfers for fried rice and beer money.

So, we need to fill your head with a practical, economical, results-based hobby that allows you both personal fulfillment and Instagram content. Also, something that is easily learned by watching youtube videos. Because, we’re not 55 yet. We don’t “go to a pottery class on Wednesday nights” like the wife of a murder suspect.


You used to have unofficial hobbies like

  • Smoking weed at work. 
  • Dating.  
  • Selling clothes for drinking money.
  • trying to make rent
  • complaining about your roommates
  • College
  • Shopping for things in person at stores
  • Driving across town to the cheapest gas station
  • Watching movies during the day

Since the hobbies of your twenties slowly dropped off the radar with the advent of an adult romantic relationship and you stopped strategically letting your bank account overdraft every month, you’ve picked up fun new ways to pass the time…


  • Cooking things you found the recipe for on a blog.
  • Having kids
  • Cleaning
  • Thinking about cleaning while scrolling IG and pooping
  • Looking at reviews on Amazon
  • Going to people’s weddings
  • Using proper grammar
  • Reading the ingredients list very closely before buying
  • Calling your internet provider
  • Googling physical symptoms
  • Thinking about North Korea

You could be doing all those things… or you could take up some irrelevant decorative hobby that costs you money and silences that voice in your head that is reminding you that greater Los Angeles county has a 4 day food supply if the lights go out, and you will be left alone to fend off bands of looters and finally resort to eating that super fancy organic avocado oil face serum. The question is… which one of your pets would you eat first?

Here are the top five instagramable hobbies that will get you the most likes and compliments:

1 – Macrame wall hangings  – think “hipster forest wedding between two pines”  (Not your smelly Aunt Miriam’s plant holders)

2 – Air plant boxes (Look at me! I recycle a pallet! I’m basically resurrecting murdered whales!)

3 – Edible gardening (probably the most expensive but definitely worth it if all you ever want to eat is mediocre tomatoes and kale)

4 – Canning jams, pickles and sauces (could be categorized under edible gardening) IG caption: “Finally canning all my lovely ripe tomatoes today! Worth the wait!  Will be so great for sauces and stews this winter!”

5 – Photo collaging (It’s just scrapbooking but we Millenials refuse to call it this for some reason)

6 – Being Gluten Free (Bread is the new Cigarettes) 

So, now you’ve chosen your hobby, been inspired by your friend’s sister’s roommate Candace who lives in a lighthouse of the coast of Nova Scotia and felts her own wool (she’s writing a novel about it obviously). You’ve ordered the appropriate gear from Amazon (plus more trash bags and a flea collar) and made one trip to Michael’s after work  and you are ready to go.

Now, keep it in the Michaels bag/Amazon box in the corner of your bedroom for at least three months (no need to rush into things). Then, one night, finish the dishes with a bit of a wine buzz, watch one youtube refresher while pooping and pull out that box of crap and just start measuring that American-made cotton cord for a six foot  piece of driftwood hanging art you’ve prematurely named Rhiannon.  

Once you are halfway through, and your partner asks if you are coming to bed yet, snap a quick progress photo that you can post the next day. “ Starting a wall hanging for our living room! I found this driftwood last week at the beach and it just screamed at me!” 

People love that shit, plus, when you DO die of liver failure from drinking moonshine to cope with raising two kids in an nuclear winter, you can insist they hang that macrame plant holder in their bombed out ‘91 Chevy Suburban as they live on BPA soaked canned peaches and radon enhanced alley cats.

Hey Millenials, it’s me 30! LOL!

Written by: Molly Tallon, author and creator at Room For Cream

You are tucked in your favorite corner of the couch. Your feet perfectly nestled in the blankets… but you can’t find your wine… it’s not on the table… next to you on the floor? behind you on the  window sill? Please… don’t let it be still in the kitchen… you just got perfectly tucked in. The accent pillows have melded for ideal lower back support in your favorite corner of the couch.

The couch you carefully researched over the course of weeks – nay – months! Looking at reviews, going over materials – pricing – financing. You visited two malls, an Ikea, a very expensive mid-mod refurbishing boutique; scoured craigslist everyday and finally, scored an amazing sectional at a floor sale at CB2. And when anyone comments your couch – in any way – you will relay this fascinating tale of both in-person and online shopping to their politely affirming faces.

And you will finish with “…AND the upholstery is recycled cotton…”

Conscious consumerism is a virtue.

Where  the fuck did you put your wine glass?

Your rescued terrier mix is draped on his favorite part of the couch too, audibly snoring.

Is this kind of snoring normal? Google dog snoring.

It’s 8:30p, on a Friday and your partner is sifting through Netflix… the soft ‘bloop-bloop-bloop’ is positively titillating.  Will you put up a fight to finish the last two episodes of that BBC crime drama? Or will you give in to another Norse King documentary or a Keanu ‘they-killed-my-wife’ action-comedy? Probably just not put up a fight because your thinking you want to have sex later…. see how far we get into this bottle of wine though.

The spicy tuna Poke bowl leaves a satisfactory lump of accomplishment. You haven’t eaten gluten in three days and you feel very smug about it, also not even a little bit bloated. AND, you made it all the way to two pilates classes this week, so you might as well be Gillian Michaels.

Hurray for you. You, are in your thirties.

Remember AIM? Remember Clarrissa? The live broadcasting of the OJ trial? Tape decks? Listening to the actual radio. The free one – not the app. The FUCKING radio.

You earned that bottle of pinot. And that $8 bar of sea-salt dark chocolate. Because red-wine and dark chocolate are actually really good for you.. right? They have flavanoids…? Raevenoids…? What was it? Something that is great for your brain or heart. Something super good for you anyways. You read about 2 paragraphs of an article your mom’s friend Jill posted with the comment “If this is true then I’m going to live forever! (laughing face)”

(No your not Jill, you will die alone with purple teeth in that little condo you bought with your divorce money surrounded by a fleet of tea cup Bijons)

You sift through your emails…. a few Amazon order confirmations, a reminder for Chelsea’s baby shower on Sunday (Don’t forget to wrap that gift that is still in the Amazon box next to the front door) and a series of ‘reply all’s about Amanda’s Bachelorette…

…Amy is vegan and doesn’t want any meat in the house, Sarah is still breastfeeding so she doesn’t want to take the limo on the wine-tasting-tour in case she has to leave and go back to the Airbnb to pump; better yet, Karly (yes with a K) just got laid off  from the dog-walking-app company so she  is opting out of the planned activities  and wants to make sure that everyone has Venmo so she can get paid immediately after buying the groceries… who wants to share a room with Karly?!??!? Sounds like a great time ladies…ugh, lets check our Alaska miles and look at plane tickets…

A reminder text comes in about getting drinks tonight for Emily’s birthday. Her and Greg just got engaged and you haven’t seen them yet. The chosen bar is a great fancy cocktail joint  about fifteen minutes away, in a very cool part of town. They have really amazing bar snacks there. Candied bacon and these thai-spiced cashews that seriously could sustain you for a year. But you are looking at a minimum $50 night out here and the parking will be a nightmare. Lyft will be peak hour rates… (yes you use Lyft because there was that thing about the Uber guy who like fondled some chick in his office.. or raped her? Or maybe he like had a child bride or something…? No wait… it was something with Uber company policy about sexual harassment…. either way, Uber = Bad).

Ugh, how are you going to get out of this? Emily is your best old-work-friend (you guys both waitressed at that brewery) and she is finally engaged to Greg, that grad-school friend of her brother’s that used to dine-and-ditch …. hopefully not anymore though.

Just don’t respond? No… That kind of shit flies in your twenties but now… now you have to have a polite and faultless excuse… Airtight…preferably family/health related. Hmmmm….. oh man those cashews though… love those cashews… but you’d have to change clothes and get off the couch… nah. Not worth it. You won’t even know anyone else there. She has all those nursing school friends now….

People with kids have it easy man, they can just be like “Sorry, rain check, little Penelope/Jackson has a fever!”

Remember what Nancy Reagan said, “Just say NO!…thank you. No, thank you.” There is no way Nancy Fucking Reagan ever said “No.” without saying “thank you” at the end.

Ronald Reagan: Hey, Nancy, baby, you want to try that butt plug I got from that saddle-maker in Santa Fe?

Nancy Reagan: No…. thank you.

Here goes the let-down text…

Hey gurl, I am so sorry to miss this but… I have to take my mom to a colonoscopy at 7 AM tomorrow!! UGH! lets do happy hour next week?? Congrats to you and Greg! Send me a ring pic! Happy Birthday too! Drink some Champs for me! XX

…Kinda true. You did have to take her to that colonoscopy last week… better not post anything on IG about brunch with your sister and her kids tomorrow though… don’t want to get caught.

Your partner nudges you with his feet, “Hey, there is a new season of Planet Earth!”

“Alright…Where did you put that weed pen…?”

“Stashed it in my bathroom drawer when I unpacked from Sassquatch… that was the last time I saw it. “

Lets get that weed pen, find that glass of wine, grab that bag of “lightly sea-salted popcorn” and get this Friday night going…

Welcome to your thirties. Take a seat, compare health insurance plans and talk about home prices/loan rates. Maybe we will even have time to compare Netflix obsessions and podcast feeds, if our kids don’t interrupt..