In 1994 I met Martha Stewart. Twice. She has no memory of meeting me. I remember her very well. I have the business card holder in the above picture to remember her by. I also have her autograph in the following picture and a story about my sister, and Martha.
Martha autographed her business card for me because I could not afford to buy her Entertaining book at the time. She was very understanding and kind. I walked away basking in the Martha glow. Above the autograph was a phone number. During Martha's talk she told the audience that we could call her if we ever had a question about gardening or cooking or anything craft related. So one night my sister and her best friend were sharing a bottle of wine.
Conversation turned to Martha.
The discussion centered around Martha's astrological sign.
A debate ensued.
Opinions differed and wine flowed.
Martha's business card was whipped out of the handy business card holder and the phone number listed on the card was dialed lickety- split. The time difference was not considered. It was late. And three hours later where Martha lives. Martha had told us at the event that she only sleeps about four hours a night and leaves her light on with a note pad and pencil next to her bed in the event she gets a good idea in the middle of the night and needs to write it down. In my sister and her friend's defense I must say the number they were dialing was believed to be an office number. My sister and her pal thought they would leave a message and hope for an answer in return. Turns out it was Martha's home phone number and she answered at two in the morning as chipper and lively as if it were the middle of the day. My sister was bolstered by a little vino and felt quite bold. She also really needed to know Martha's sign.
So she asked.
Martha playfully answered, "What do you think I am?"
My sister responded with " Scorpio?"
and Martha said,
"Wrong!" in a sing-song voice, and then said, "I'm a Leo!"
My sister said, "Of course you are! I should have known!"
Martha then asked my sister if she had a cooking or planting or craft question for her. My sister said no and then went on to say she was just a nutty California girl who wanted to win a bet. Martha laughed. My sister thanked her for her time and wished her a good night. Martha wished her the same. A few months went by and Martha came back to our neck of the woods and gave a little talk at a fancy garden center by the beach. I met her for a second time. I sort of followed her around the garden center while the owner gave her a tour of the place. I was early for the event and she was too and I didn't want to sit in the hot sun so I tagged along a few paces behind them and eavesdropped while Martha and the owner talked flowers. She knew what she was talking about. I didn't have a clue. She spoke of flowers and planting and other garden related issues. I do not have a green thumb. I didn't tell her. I pretended to be a garden gal like all the other people there that day even if all I really cared about was where she bought the fabulous cornflower blue suit she was wearing and who did her hair. And that's my story about Martha Stewart, my sister and me.
Next time I book a room at a fancy hotel I won't ask for extra towels. I'll ask for extra light bulbs. Light bulbs that have more light in them than one little firefly. This is the room my sister and I stayed in last weekend. Can you see her? All the lights are on.
We took the black lampshade off the center light so I could take this picture of my sister getting ready to go to bed. It was too cold to go swimming so she is diving into her bed instead. The beds in this hotel cater to giants. I counted 4 mattresses. There may have been more but I'll never know because I'm a product of "all I really need to know I learned in kindergarten." I did a triple dismount worthy of the Olympic Games every time I launched myself off the bed. By Sunday I was so good at it that I took a flying leap and bounced off my sister's bed right into the bathroom scoring a 9.5 with the judges, otherwise known as the people in the room below us who thought they were experiencing "The Big One!" a California earthquake. Next time I'm bringing my miner's cap, a ladder and a chalk bucket to chalk up my hands for a better grip on the bedpost so I can score a perfect 10.
It's almost time for open house again at school. The little artists are hard at work drawing pictures for their families to see. I decided to give you a small preview of what's in store for you. Can you guess the title of the first picture? It's very obvious if you ask me. It's . . . "Pancake Machine". At least that's what the 7 year old artist calls it. The second picture is a "Pancake on a Stick" employee forced to wear a ridiculous hat. The artist calls it, "Pancake Robot". I'm not so sure this student has ever eaten a pancake in his life or even seen one. Education isn't what it used to be.
Spring has sprung early at my house... I forgot to put up a "No Vacancy" sign and a bird laid some eggs in the nest on my front door wreath. I left a rent receipt. It left bird poop.
anyone know where I can get a little bird saddle?
I call this "bird on a wire"... they don't call me the clever one for nothin'
I call this whatever I want on any given day...most of the time I just whistle at it...
I call this "Art"...because it didn't come from Target.
