Martha Stewart, to be exact.
Only here's the thing - I don't think that Martha loved me back.
All her crafts, her recipes, her suggestions? I busted my ass, time and again. She didn't care.
Nothing, nothing, NOTHING was ever like it was supposed to look, to be, to taste. She just smiled at me with her smug, effortless grin.
She made my anxiety/perfectionism levels go to Red Alert (even as I think about this now, my blood pressure's going up a bit).
Nothing, nothing, NOTHING was ever like it was supposed to look, to be, to taste. She just smiled at me with her smug, effortless grin.
She made my anxiety/perfectionism levels go to Red Alert (even as I think about this now, my blood pressure's going up a bit).
The writing (in a lavish Gregorian Monk Scroll font) was on the wall (stacked Corsican slate, roughly mortared by Connecticut artisans) - we had to break up.
And then I found Real Simple magazine. Which lives up to its title. The recipes always work out, the suggestions are down-to-earth, for real folk in a real world. I don't need a staff of 40 to make it happen.
Another bonus, which I had completely forgot about until I picked it up again this month, is that the spine of the magazine has a quote on it. So when you've got them stacked up on a shelf, you've got a lovely series of quotes to inspire you.
Another bonus, which I had completely forgot about until I picked it up again this month, is that the spine of the magazine has a quote on it. So when you've got them stacked up on a shelf, you've got a lovely series of quotes to inspire you.
This month's is from Eldridge Cleaver:
"Too much agreement kills a chat."
From an ex-Martha sycophant, I couldn't agree more.
