Martha Stewart, I'm Not

(Originally written on February 23, 2001)

If Martha Stewart ever visited my home I'm sure she would have trouble suppressing her shock. Not that my house is all that dirty. Well, I can't say it's anti-septic. A certain amount of dust is a sign of a healthy life-style... right? After all, I have better things to do than spend all my time chasing dust-bunnies. Or, maybe I took that "Mother's Prayer" a little too seriously. The one that goes, ". . . . so quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep, I'm watching my babies and babies don't keep." Who knows?

Never mind that. The state of cleanliness is not what would shock her. She would never have time to notice that detail. By then she would be completely catatonic. Although she would get as far as the front hall before anything seemed amiss. That, if only due to lack of space, is disdainfully traditional. I think of it as my lure for unsuspecting victims. It's my plot, you see, to free the world of domestic slavery. After one is past the front hall (with the door firmly shut), they are social victims in my lair.

Going into the living room, they would realize something is not right. It's April, after all. Upon entering, curiosity overcomes politeness and she would turn and ask, "my, what is this?" I would smile sweetly and explain, "why, that's our holiday tree. Right now we're between St. Patrick's Day and Easter." The holiday tree, you see, is the brain-child of my husband, and I was the one crazy enough to enact it. He loves Christmas trees so much he never wanted to take it down. So I suggested that we simply re-decorate his 6½ ft artificial tree with each current season. And, voila`! The Holiday Tree was born. It stays up year round, changing decorations with the upcoming holiday. This, by the way, includes birthdays. Or, as we tend to think of them, personal holidays. The kids love it. Martha would die.

Next, we enter the kitchen which, unfortunately, I have not been able to adapt as much as I would like. There's entirely too much counter top space and not nearly enough elbow room. I mean, really. Who wastes their time cooking anymore when there's so much great frozen and take-out food available? I certainly can't cook like those people -- why try? After all, eating as a past time only goes so far. If I had my way, my freezer would be twice as big and my counter tops would be all but non-existent. All the better to make room for the over-sized kitchen table I want. If I had my way, the kitchen table would seat 8-10 people comfortably and the kitchen chairs would all be like those adjustable ones in offices -- so the back and seat height can change to accommodate everyone. As it is, we only have one of those (my husband's) and the kids are constantly fighting over it.

Oh, and the dishwasher. Well, it's a great place to store dishes after they're washed, but really, do we need all that room just for a drain? As an appliance I can think of nothing else that's more inefficient and wasteful. To even think of using it traditionally, one must have almost enough dishes, glasses and utensils to serve a small army. No thanks.

If Martha made it that far I'd be amazed. Moving into the-- well, I can't call it the dining room, but that's what it might be, traditionally. When she saw that I have turned this room into a computer/craft room, she might just faint on the spot. With two smaller tables replacing a large one, replete with whatever current projects are in-process, and three computers in lieu of side boards or hutches lining the walls there's no mistaking this for a dining room. The only piece of furniture that remotely resembles something that belongs in that Edwardian throw-back is the shelving. Except they are stuffed with various craft supplies and the family collection of board games.

This may all seem quite unusual. But we live here. I mean, we live here-- using all the space and area in ways that are pleasing to us. So Martha Stewart and the rest of enslaved suburbia be darned. We like it-- and I think we'll stay!