Day 94, August 24

I jsut finished perusing a women's magazine, including an article about Martha Stewart.  It made me tired.    Don't get me wrong:  I admire the woman.  You've got to hand it to her--she survived a stint in prison and came out looking younger than ever.  (If I could do the same, I'd consider doing some insider trading myself.)

But back to the Great Martha.  By the time I'd read how she stuffs cherry tomatos with a bit of ricotta and herbs and that she makes her own jellies and jams to give out as treats to her guests, I was more than tired.  To use a menopausal term, I was de-pissed. 

At a time when our bodies are slowing down, she wants us to stuff tomatos and make jams and jellies? (With fruit from her own garden, of course.)  Come on.  I'm lucky if I make it to the bathroom in time.  In fact, I'm lucky if I make it to the bathroom at all.

No, Martha Stewart doesn't have to fear any competition from me.  I'm much more a Maxine follower.  (And no, I'm not on her payroll, though I wish I were.)  Maxine's got her priorities straight.  Put her under a strong gust of air conditioning, give her a pound of chocolate, and she's good to go.