It was about a year ago that I first got the idea for this project and when I was explaining it to the random people sitting at my table at a workshop, I was full of hopeful optimism. Our workshop centred around using a picture book in the classroom called "How to Heal a Broken Wing". At the end of the session, one of my table mates observed that I was a bit like a calloused foot (I guess she meant rough around the edges?) and that perhaps I could call my blog "How to Heal a Calloused Foot". While possibly an accurate analogy, I didn't think it had the appropriate ring to it.
Now, after a year of half-hearted attempts and repeated domestic failures, I am ready to admit that my project didn't quite pan out. I am no closer my goal of becoming Martha Stewart-ish than I was when I first began. I am, in fact, still a calloused foot!
And since my year is up, a calloused foot I will remain. Project Martha Stewart Me has come to an end. Short of an intervention by Martha herself, I don't think there is any hope for me...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
The Cost of Not Being Martha
As any readers are well aware, I have not made any progress whatsoever in my quest to become more like Martha. I might even be regressing. Scott, my somewhat handy husband, made a beautiful window bench for Hannah and I was going to harness my inner craftiness to make the cushions for it. Nothing too crazy, just a large cover for the actual bench cushion and then some contrasting throw pillows.
Then the seamstress who made my living room drapes started talking to me about piping and a coordinating valence and other stuff that sounded really nice but also really hard. I started to see her vision. I compared it to what I might conceivably produce. The two were very different.
Needless to say, after a meeting with her yesterday where I selected my fabrics, my style of valence, and what kind of piping would appear where, I had committed to handing the project over. Well, almost. I'm still going to make the throw pillows. Sort of. She might help me. Or just do it for me depending on how much patience she has.
Regardless of what happens with the throw pillows, the rest of the project is going to cost me the equivalent of a mortgage payment. I had to have a drink after hearing the price. I'm cheap and parting with large sums of money does not come easily to me. Especially large sums of money that only serve to remind me of the cost of my inability to sew (or cook, or decorate, or clean, or garden...).
Then the seamstress who made my living room drapes started talking to me about piping and a coordinating valence and other stuff that sounded really nice but also really hard. I started to see her vision. I compared it to what I might conceivably produce. The two were very different.
Needless to say, after a meeting with her yesterday where I selected my fabrics, my style of valence, and what kind of piping would appear where, I had committed to handing the project over. Well, almost. I'm still going to make the throw pillows. Sort of. She might help me. Or just do it for me depending on how much patience she has.
Regardless of what happens with the throw pillows, the rest of the project is going to cost me the equivalent of a mortgage payment. I had to have a drink after hearing the price. I'm cheap and parting with large sums of money does not come easily to me. Especially large sums of money that only serve to remind me of the cost of my inability to sew (or cook, or decorate, or clean, or garden...).
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Dear Martha
Dear Martha,
Have you ever put together one of your shelving units? Inspired, as always, by the lovely picture both in the catalogue and on the side of the box, I bought a nine-cube Martha Stewart shelving unit. I pulled the pieces out of the box and got to work on the simple, easy-to-follow, step-by-step instructions. Some parts went well...
Nearing the end of assembly, I saw that I still had sixty teeny, tiny nails to hammer in. Sixty! Wow, this shelf was not going to fall apart on me. At least those really flimsy cardboard backing plates weren't going to fall off. Granted, the nails were small - clearly designed for delicate work. Like hammering teeny, tiny nails through cardboard into extremely thin, fake wood partitions. Hammers are not really delicate. Twice, Martha, I hammered right through the edge of the fake wood partition and watched as my teeny, tiny nail caused the material around it to crumble, flake off, or otherwise disintegrate. This, into the rather visible front-facing cube. I know this wouldn't happen to you. And I doubt you would be sweating profusely after nail thirty-seven either. Why so many nails, Martha?
Eventually, I completed the shelf. Well, almost completed. Those lovely little screw covers don't seem to actually fit. I tried simply pressing them on, as the instructions urged me to do. No luck. With stomach-clenching trepidation I actually attempted to hammer one on, fully aware of the consequences should my hammer strike an errant blow. Still, no luck. Perhaps I'm just not strong enough to secure those decorative baubles so I will wait for my husband to affix them (although, once again, I don't think you intended for them to be so tricky).
My final question is this: why do you use over-sized props in your picture? It might cause an unsuspecting consumer to believe their new nine-cube Martha Stewart shelving unit will actually hold games or other larger items that are clearly too big for the rather smallish real-life version of said shelving unit.
Sincerely,
A merely curious fan.
Have you ever put together one of your shelving units? Inspired, as always, by the lovely picture both in the catalogue and on the side of the box, I bought a nine-cube Martha Stewart shelving unit. I pulled the pieces out of the box and got to work on the simple, easy-to-follow, step-by-step instructions. Some parts went well...
Nearing the end of assembly, I saw that I still had sixty teeny, tiny nails to hammer in. Sixty! Wow, this shelf was not going to fall apart on me. At least those really flimsy cardboard backing plates weren't going to fall off. Granted, the nails were small - clearly designed for delicate work. Like hammering teeny, tiny nails through cardboard into extremely thin, fake wood partitions. Hammers are not really delicate. Twice, Martha, I hammered right through the edge of the fake wood partition and watched as my teeny, tiny nail caused the material around it to crumble, flake off, or otherwise disintegrate. This, into the rather visible front-facing cube. I know this wouldn't happen to you. And I doubt you would be sweating profusely after nail thirty-seven either. Why so many nails, Martha?
Eventually, I completed the shelf. Well, almost completed. Those lovely little screw covers don't seem to actually fit. I tried simply pressing them on, as the instructions urged me to do. No luck. With stomach-clenching trepidation I actually attempted to hammer one on, fully aware of the consequences should my hammer strike an errant blow. Still, no luck. Perhaps I'm just not strong enough to secure those decorative baubles so I will wait for my husband to affix them (although, once again, I don't think you intended for them to be so tricky).
My final question is this: why do you use over-sized props in your picture? It might cause an unsuspecting consumer to believe their new nine-cube Martha Stewart shelving unit will actually hold games or other larger items that are clearly too big for the rather smallish real-life version of said shelving unit.
Sincerely,
A merely curious fan.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentines Martha Style (ish)
With Martha's magazine in hand, I set out to make some beautiful, home-made Valentines with my adorable, craft-loving children. We cleared the table, covered it with paper, set out our numerous and varied supplies, and prepared to make magic.
Me: Isn't this fun?
Hannah: It sure is.
Jacob: I don't like this.
After making two, maybe three Valentines using all the resources available to us, Hannah grew weary. Even the glue had lost its allure. In the end, we took pre-made Dollarama cards and added a sticker. On some, we glued a gem. I wrote all the names. Hannah slumped beside me. Jacob ran around like a maniac after possibly eating some of the glue.
And we still have enough supplies for next year...
Me: Isn't this fun?
Hannah: It sure is.
Jacob: I don't like this.
After making two, maybe three Valentines using all the resources available to us, Hannah grew weary. Even the glue had lost its allure. In the end, we took pre-made Dollarama cards and added a sticker. On some, we glued a gem. I wrote all the names. Hannah slumped beside me. Jacob ran around like a maniac after possibly eating some of the glue.
And we still have enough supplies for next year...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Realizations
I think I knew it all along... I do not have it in me to be anything like Martha. I hoped, really hoped, that if I tried hard enough it would happen. But it didn't. And there comes a certain relief with letting other, more talented, people do the things you can not do yourself. A few examples:
Hannah's window bench cushion - I was confident I could make this. It was crafty, but not too crafty. In the end, I gave in and am having an accomplished seamstress make one that will actually look good instead of the hack job I was certain to produce.
Hannah's treats for Valentine's Day - I have the current Valentine's issue of Martha Stewart Living. It has some great ideas for child-friendly treats. Someone else is making cake pops for us. And they'll actually taste good.
Our living room drapes - I never really contemplated making these in a serious way, but it was there in the back of my ultra-cheap mind that I could save a lot of money by doing these myself. Again, went with the seamstress for the whole looking good thing.
So, yes, I am admitting defeat in many areas. In fact, probably every area I had hoped to conquer. However, I am not a complete failure! At least not yet. Because this weekend I am going to make some scones. Scones from one of Martha's own recipes. And that has to count for something...
Hannah's window bench cushion - I was confident I could make this. It was crafty, but not too crafty. In the end, I gave in and am having an accomplished seamstress make one that will actually look good instead of the hack job I was certain to produce.
Hannah's treats for Valentine's Day - I have the current Valentine's issue of Martha Stewart Living. It has some great ideas for child-friendly treats. Someone else is making cake pops for us. And they'll actually taste good.
Our living room drapes - I never really contemplated making these in a serious way, but it was there in the back of my ultra-cheap mind that I could save a lot of money by doing these myself. Again, went with the seamstress for the whole looking good thing.
So, yes, I am admitting defeat in many areas. In fact, probably every area I had hoped to conquer. However, I am not a complete failure! At least not yet. Because this weekend I am going to make some scones. Scones from one of Martha's own recipes. And that has to count for something...
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Holiday Confessions
Martha would be disappointed. I should be ashamed; but instead, I'm strangely indifferent. This holiday season provided the perfect opportunity to display hosting, decorating, and crafting skills carefully accrued over the previous months of alleged efforts to become, well, better, at all of the above.
We hosted staff parties, open houses, and family dinners. I did not make one new recipe. Scott did most of the decorating. I made a Christmas craft that was too ugly to display. We ate off paper plates and used plastic cutlery. I put out store-bought desserts. Heck, I didn't even have holiday napkins. Even at Thanksgiving I get excited about those! So, looking back, I should be experiencing a sense of failure. However, apart from the napkins, I have no regrets.
Perhaps this is just as good as it gets for me. Maybe, in the end, I don't have it in me after all. And while it's an enticing thought to give up and concede defeat, I can't quit just yet. One of my Christmas gifts was a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, and I can't help but feel a tinge of hope that therein lies the secret to my success.
I mean, there will be pictures, right?
We hosted staff parties, open houses, and family dinners. I did not make one new recipe. Scott did most of the decorating. I made a Christmas craft that was too ugly to display. We ate off paper plates and used plastic cutlery. I put out store-bought desserts. Heck, I didn't even have holiday napkins. Even at Thanksgiving I get excited about those! So, looking back, I should be experiencing a sense of failure. However, apart from the napkins, I have no regrets.
Perhaps this is just as good as it gets for me. Maybe, in the end, I don't have it in me after all. And while it's an enticing thought to give up and concede defeat, I can't quit just yet. One of my Christmas gifts was a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, and I can't help but feel a tinge of hope that therein lies the secret to my success.
I mean, there will be pictures, right?
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