Open Letter to Martha Stewart

Dear Martha Stewart,

Should I just call your Martha? Or Ms. Stewart? My husband always chastises me for using someone’s first and last name when I refer to them, but Martha Stewart just seems to roll off the tongue.

I digress. How are you? I just thought I would write you a quick note and ask a few questions. I happened to be on your website – lovely, by the way – and came across some photos of all of your homes. I was mostly interested in your first home, Turkey Hill. (By the way, is it important to name your home? Should I refer to my house as Maple Leaf? Or perhaps Raccoon Battleground would be more appropriate.) I was familiar with your home because I have read one of your unauthorized biographies. It was actually a very balanced view of you, and did not paint you to be a crazy psycho hose beast. So, score one for you.

I just had some questions regarding some of the things I saw in those photos. Let’s just dive in, shall we?

Are painting murals on the wall the new craze? It wouldn’t even by in my realm of possibilities for what to do with a wall. Call me crazy, but I thought murals were for kids rooms.

Also, I noticed you used the term “grisaille.” Am I supposed to know what that means? Maybe you should ask your website visitors to do a quick vocabulary tutorial before they visit your site. Just a tip.

Should I be referring to any sort of landscaping we do outside our home as “sculpting the land”?

At what point of my home ownership do you think it is important to build a chicken coop?

I came across this photo, and I was actually a little perplexed. You are wearing overalls. Martha, is that okay now? I mean, I personally don’t see anything wrong with overalls, but for someone that has amber and gold venetian candlesticks in their guesthouse, named Skylands (I mean, would you name YOUR guesthouse anything else?) the overalls seem a bit out of place.

I really only have one question: How do you f-ing do it?

Yes, “how do you f-ing do it,” is what I just wrote. And, I know, I used the term “f-ing” which isn’t even a proper word, more like a slang term of a curse word. But, there is really no other term that best describes my incredulousness of your life. You are pretty f-ing impressive. But, I bet you don’t get any f-ing sleep, or have any f-ing friends.

Oh, well. Give my love to your dogs and hens and things.
Love,

Brianne