Thanksgiving With Martha Steward
There are days that I sit down and turn on Martha Steward. No, I’m not a huge fan, but I love to see what this women comes up with. On the particular day I was watching she was making homemade apple cider and suggested that everyone should have one of these handy dandy contraptions in their house (just as a reference the machine was about the size of a small fridge). “Oh, Martha” I thought “you crack me up.” As I drifted off into the world of perfectly folded napkins and tissue box cozies I left behind my world of the piles of laundry I was sitting in and the cat food strung all over the floor that Bug tried to eat. Oh this non existent world is a very funny one to visit and I though about what it would be like to visit Martha’s house. I picture servants huddling in fear in a very clean house as Martha freaks over someone switching the position of the salt and pepper shaker. Magical.
So, for your entertainment here is what I would imagine it would be like to have Thanksgiving at Martha’s house.
Upon arriving we would mingle with her other friends in the Grand Foyer enjoying drinks. Suddenly a bell would ring and the doors to the main dining hall would swoosh open and Martha would be standing in the doorway, poising as if she was doing a photo shoot for Vogue, and beckon everyone to come inside and enjoy.
I would probably sit at the kids table by mistake, because who really makes the kids table look that nice? It wouldn’t be until R pointed out the “pointy things” that had our names on it that I realized my faux pas. Oops is my face fed.
Once in our proper seats I would marvel at how all of the plates match. R wouldn’t have noticed. Instead he would be busy worrying about breaking delicate items and asking me if it was OK to touch things. Undoubtably he would ask me what each piece of silverware was for. I would make it up, undoubtably.
That’s when the food would be brought out. Naturally there would be exotic things served like pears … covered in caramel….
There would also be cranberry sauce that I would certainly ask Martha where she got it. She would smile and inform me that just like everything else on the property she made it herself (house included) All the while holding back the urge to scream “off with her head” causing hundreds of servants to pop out of their hiding places resulting in a chase Alice In Wonderland style. Or at least I imagine it that way.
The turkey would arrive at the table better dressed than I am.
Although all of the table on the table looks delicious it is not to be eaten. A mistake that R would find out the hard way. No, it is staged food. The real meal would show up looking artistically confusing.
Trying to make dinner conversation I would bring up her time in jail wondering what she did to make her cell a good thing. There would be an awkward silence and the sound of teeth grinding before she changes the subject on how she sheered her own heard of sheep to make all of the fabric that is in her house. Martha would suggest that we do the some.
Finally pies of every shape and flavor would be paraded in front of us. R would be like a kid in a candy shop and nag me about not making pies like this. I would snap back that if I had sweatshop labor in my kitchen that maybe I could achieve this too.
At this point dinner would be over. Graciously R and I would be herded to the door, thanked for coming, and be immediately escorted off the property.
Yes, that is what I envision a Thanksgiving at Martha’s house would be like. Have you ever though what it would be like to visit a celebrities house for a holiday?