Martha, Martha, Martha

When I left you, dear readers, I was wandering around Manhattan with a buttonless coat, a half-torn contact in my eye, a blister and a dying cell phone.

But enough about my drama--you want to hear about Martha!

Martha, Martha, Martha.  I just love how one day, she's in the slammer, and the next, she's donning a sunny yellow cardigan and prim khakis and beaming through our television screens like the perfect housewife next door. 

I know Martha is the arbiter of all things good.  I know she's idolized by many.

But I just don't get it.

Maybe it's because I don't have the patience for anything involving glue guns and glitter.   Or maybe it's because I can't even keep a houseplant alive and consider boxed macaroni and cheese a complete meal.

Whatever the reason, the truth is that I've always found her pretentious.  Condescending.  Annoyingly perfect--with the exception of that prison term, of course.  

So, I'm not quite sure how this decidedly UN-Martha blogger got invited to attend her show.  But I wasn't about to pass up a chance to expense a trip to New York City and observe the creature in her natural habitat.

Which was warm and cloyingly cute.  Kind of like the bright colors they forced us all to wear (I settled on a cobalt blue dress and turquoise tights--that's as bright as I get, folks) and the squealing mommy bloggers who packed the audience.

There were the requisite cooking segments.  Pad Thai with @chezpim and orange almond cakes with Jeff Blumenkrantz, who stole a page from Julie & Julia and wrote a blog about cooking Martha's recipes, which of course led to a cookbook and will invariably make it to a theatre near you (after all, Blumenkrantz is Broadway actor--can the Martha musical be far behind?).  

The other guests included Martha's extremely frosty daughter, Alexis, who looked beyond pissed that her mother had interrupted her morning of bossing around servants and shutting down city streets to deliver her furniture to come to the studio to chat about blogging; the very likeable Jennifer Koppelman-Hutt, who played the recorder and joked about surfing porn  online and seemingly had nothing in common with her blogger-in-crime, Her Highness Alexis; and semi-stalker Andrew Ritchie, who has a blog all about Martha, which naturally led to an invitation to be on the show and participate in some tedious yarn craft.  So, if I start a blog about Dolly, will she invite me to sing on stage with her?  A girl can dream.  (by the way, Happy Birthday, Dolly!  I love you!)

In spite of my growling tummy (even with the abudance of food, no one offered to share with the hungry masses) and my complete inability to sit still for longer than fifteen minutes at a time, I really enjoyed the experience.  Martha was very engaging, and you have to admire anyone who can not only rock six inch Yves Saint Laurent heels, but survive a public scandal and land right back on the top, with grace and ease.

So, thanks for the memories, Martha.  And click here for my one second of fame (opening shot, on the right, less than a second in)! :)