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Posts Tagged ‘Martha Stewart’

martah

Some weeks are pretty boring, if I’m being honest. I drop the kids off at school, go to work, maybe do my Dad’s Christmas shopping, grab a Starbucks, pick the kids up from school, help with homework, cook dinner, sometimes clean up the kitchen, watch some TV, go to bed. Every day. It’s a good life, but not too terribly exciting.

Not this week, my friends.

Well, actually, for the most part, yes. But not entirely.

Anyway.

Wednesday night I started on teacher gifts. Considering Thursday was the kids’ last day of school, I figured it was probably time to put some stuff together.

Nothing like procrastination at Christmas.

I decided I wanted to make Peppermint Sugar Cookie Pinwheels. Not because they taste amazing. But because they¬†look amazing. And, let’s be real – that’s really what matters most.

If you’ve ever baked before, you know that when a recipe calls for flour (lots), sugar, confectioner’s sugar and red food coloring – it’s gonna get a little cray up in here.

It got a lot of cray up in there.

My kitchen was a disaster. (And might still be. Don’t judge me.)

And I’m not even talking about the piece of trim that keeps falling out from under my dishwasher and the despicable cabinets which need to be taken down and burned. I mean, that’s a given.

Think: flour making a halo around my KitchenAid mixer, red food coloring making the kitchen look like a crime scene, powdered sugar covering the island (and the floor, and me), a little cookie dough smeared on my face, and pearl-like sprinkles. Oh, man, the sprinkles. I’ll probably find those up until next Christmas.

So, after I popped the first batch of cookies in the oven, I surveyed the horrendous mess that ensued, and imagined Martha Stewart’s kitchen as she inevitably bakes her dozens of cookies and cakes and all things wondrous this Christmas.

It looked nothing like what was going on IRL in my kitchen. It was heavenly and gleaming and clean and white. I mean, my kitchen was white, too, but not from beauty. It was mostly flour.

So I tweeted.

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So I went on about my evening. I finished the cookies, took a bunch of Instagrams, put together potpourri mason jars, dipped marshmallows in white chocolate and peppermint, tied bows, wrote cards.

My phone dinged. With flour-covered hands, I checked it.

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Okay, sure, Fake Martha. Let me email you my home address so you can find my house in West Virginia and steal all of my pretty cake plates and tablecloths and aprons when I’m not home. I don’t think so.

With enough dough still stuck in my hair to make at least three cookies, I finally went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up, got the kids ready, pushed them out of the car dropped them off at school, and started my short drive to work.

My phone dinged.

marthatweet

 

Did you just pee your pants?!

I mean, you do realize that little blue check mark beside her name makes her legit, right? That little blue check also means I’M GETTING A SIGNED COOKBOOK FROM FREAKIN’ MARTHA STEWART!

I’d hate me, too.

Of course, the very first thing I did was text my good friend and fellow celebrity stalker, Dawn. Although she was jealous (rightfully so), she was excited for me, as any good friend would be.

And then at 4:30 pm, she texts me again.

“CALL MARTHA!!,” she said (or something similar), talking about Martha taking calls to her SiriusXM radio show. I immediately got a knot in my stomach. What in the world would I say to Martha? I could thank her for the signed book coming my way, as Dawn suggested.

But the socially-awkward introvert inside me knew it would come out something like, “Martha! Thank you the book for sending me you are!”

Legit. I can’t talk.

Dawn wasn’t going to let that happen. I mean, I had received a Direct Message, a tweet and (prospectively) a signed cookbook. It was IMPERATIVE that I talk to the Queen of All Things Perfect, too.

So Dawn called. And then added me to the call. We could hear Martha talking to some guy who was talking about how to cook the perfect bird or something. Not important.

We both admitted later that we were super nervous waiting for our turn to talk to Martha.

And then about a minute before her show was over, the producer came on the line and apologized for not being able to fit us in.

I was a bit relieved, if I’m being truthful. Martha needs to remember me by that Sugar Cookie Pinwheel, not my inability to form a correct sentence.

Then again, she already knows my kitchen gets messy when I bake.

Crap.

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