Damn You Martha!

Martha Martha Martha...oh Martha, how I love to hate you and hate that I love you. Your smirk, your condescending tone as you walk me through yet another craft project that makes me feel stupid and unworthy. Why do I care? Why must you make it look so easy? Why do I keep trying to glitter everything in my path? From greeting cards to ornaments and candles only to end up with more glitter on myself and my floor than on any project.



There are no words to express how I feel about your sugar cookies. How is it even possible to get the icing so smooth and close to the edges? My attempt to make your ornament shaped cookies ended up looking like I had either mini seizures or a horrible case of the hiccups! I gave up after just a few cookies while swearing like a trucker and cursing your smugness.



Of course I keep trying to make wreaths, fairy jars, candles, soap, rubber stamping and half the craft projects in your magazine just to end up inventing new swear word combinations. Now I'm pining for a craft room, which may or not be in my best interest. As I clean up the room and contemplate paint color swatches and furniture layout, I daydream of all the nifty supplies I'm going to fill the room with. I know where the sewing machine (I don't know how to sew) is going. I can see all the fabrics neatly folded in stacks on the bookcases. I've figured out where all the Cricut machines (never used one before) are going. In my head I have taken care of every detail for the perfect craft room, but of course my head is also where my talent is and thank you Martha for making that so painfully apparent.