Oh Martha. I wish I could quit you.

Remember this? Where I said I was SO not renewing my subscription to Martha Stewart Living? I did NOT renew it, in fact.

All of March I went without the abuse of the MSL.

Yeah, that lasted one month. As I sit here, next to me is my April edition. In my defense, I did NOT pay for this subscription. Sort of.

See, somehow I seem to have fallen in with people who will "pay" me for taking their surveys online about various consumer matters. Answer a few questions about car insurance, breakfast foods, digital cameras, that sort of thing. It's time consuming and irritating, and at the end of the survey they say something like, "Thank you for your input. $1.75 has been credited to your account." Clay cannot believe I waste my time on such a thing, because I'll spend twenty minutes whining about how much I hate the questions and how boring they are, and then at the end of it all I get is this paltry sum. A pittance. But it's better than that, I tell him, because they don't actually give me money, oh no. They "pay" me "money" that I can redeem for "rewards," which are mostly really really lame - things like $5 off a $50 purchase at Ebags. Which, as Clay points out, is not so much a reward as an opportunity to spend more money, not something we were actively searching for.

BUT! You can also redeem your "money" for magazine subscriptions, which is how I ended up the proud owner of a year's subscription to LUCKY magazine, hide my head in shame. (Question? Do people actually dress like that? With ratted out hair and belts randomly knotted around sweaters even though there are perfectly serviceable buckles on them and scarves dangling off their shoulders like THAT wouldn't make you insane with the tickle tickle all day? Do people ACTUALLY pay thousands of dollars on a cotton dress? Who ARE you people?) 

And then I also got a year's subscription to Martha Stewart Living.

Why do I do this to myself? It starts the minute I open the magazine. At the very front, there is a checklist of tasks for the month - "Gentle Reminders" - and right away I'm reading it like it's the opening statement for the prosecution. Hah, I think, dust your lightbulbs. As if. I have a perfectly useful method of getting rid of lightbulb dust. It's called "changing the burnt out bulb." Besides, we use those swirly bulbs that sort of look like DNA and are going to save the planet and those suckers have MERCURY in them, so why would I take the chance on breaking one? Don't we have enough to worry about with the mercury in sushi? Not that I eat sushi all that often, but if I WANT to, I WON'T be deterred by the fact that I've already had my mercury dose from the LIGHTBULB DUSTING, as if.

This is not a good or healthy start to a relationship. And it doesn't get better. I read Martha's letter closely - not so much for the information as to chortle over the AMAZING regard she has for herself. Does she not have an editor on staff that could gently point out to her that she sort of sounds like the girl in the Peanuts strip who is always mentioning that she has "naturally curly hair"? Martha, Martha. We know you win at domestic chores. WE KNOW.

As I move through the magazine, my emotions are all over the map. There's derision - As though I have time to comb the wilderness for edible weeds - and elation - I am SO making that flourless chocolate cake - and shame - this recipe calls for espresso powder. I wonder what Martha would think if she knew I would use instant coffee. The store brand. - and moments of hysterical grandiosity worthy of Martha herself - I want to make crepe paper birds! I would make the BEST crepe paper birds EVER! I am untethered, swept up in the wake of Martha's creative force.

One of the seventeen trillion cards that sifted out of the magazine was one that was especially for giving your mother a gift subscription to MSL for Mother's Day. I tried to imagine what my mom would do if I gave her such a gift. I can picture her face, studying the lovely card I would be sent to give to her to announce my gift. She would just look at it for a few minutes, speechless. Her face would betray a struggle not to laugh. And then she would look at me and ask the only question that could really be appropriate at such a moment. "WHY?"

No, Mom knows better. She is far to wise to fall under the spell of Martha's siren song.

I'm afraid this is between Martha and me - and only one of us is coming out alive.

My money's on Martha.

Comments

[Aimee]

My money's on you. Martha can't handle imperfection. All you'd have to do is jump up and down while she had a souffle in the oven and she'd self-destruct.

I remember watching a Martha Christmas special where she advised her viewers to leave a thin layer of snow on the ground when they shoveled their walks, because it would LOOK so pretty. No salt or sand, of course, because that would ruin the perfect whiteness. All I could think was, I hope she has good liability insurance. You take your life in your hands when you go to Martha's for Christmas.

[JohnH]

"this recipe calls for espresso powder."

Heh. That one sends me off in the other elitist direction, thinking, "Martha? You can't afford a real espresso machine? Come on! The real stuff is so much better than that nasty powder!"

Wait a second. I just admitted to occasionally reading it too. Heh.

[Amy]

I am imagining the look on your mother's face as she receives her subscription to MSL, too. Best gift I've had in a long time! Now, seriously, why aren't you people reading Southern Living? All the creativity, all the beauty, all the recipes and none of the craziness. You don't have to live south of the Mason Dixon line to get it delivered. And, Kira....I have heard you use the term "y'all" correctly. So, enough Yankee angst. C'mon over to our side.