So I follow Martha on Twitter. Yes, THAT Martha. The one that tweets about extracting fragrance from her peonies and cantering in the country and haying her fields. It’s so dadblamed depressing a delight to follow her and feel completely inadequate inspired to keep my home from being declared a federal disaster area a beautiful relaxing pit of despair haven for my family.
Before the children came along and I still had creative brain cells, my friend Kate and I would spend time together making crafts out of Martha’s magazine. We’d pick a project, head to the craft store together to gather supplies, and spend the afternoon scalding ourselves with the hot glue gun creating gorgeous concoctions that neither of us would dream of ever setting out on a shelf now that we have kids would have been able to make without Martha’s precise instructions.
One Easter I was hosting several friends at our house and I decided that I would be an obnoxiously pretentious hostess make name tags for the dinner table. I saw this beautifully intricate tulip tag pattern in Martha’s magazine and momentarily lost my mind thought it would be perfect for the meal. I dutifully measured, cut, swore, folded, taped, swore again, rolled, and creased tiny pieces of paper into the ugliest flower shape you’ve ever seen.
It took me two hours to make one.
I had invited eighteen people.
I quickly decided they were all adults and knew their name and could sit wherever they wanted.
Martha would be proud.
Have a nice day.