martha’s month

Toward the beginning of the month I often think about Martha Stewart. In an earlier phase of my life I was a subscriber and devoted reader of LIVING magazine, of which my favorite feature is Martha’s calendar, always in the beginning of the volume and plastered with advertisements. I am aware that I am not the only one to appreciate this little gem of domestic idealism. The editors discontinued this feature for a while (Martha was probably incarcerated or something and they felt it drastically altered the mood of the piece) and I heard that the public outcry was so great they were forced to reintroduce it.
Haven’t seen it? It’s glorious. There’s just an item or two for each day of the month, little suggestions for the housekeeping goddess. They range from home to garden, include the cleaning and care of every inanimate object she owns as well as living things of all varieties (excepting children, including cats and dogs). They are spiced up with elaborate preparations for every holiday, real or imagined, known to mankind. She makes homemade soup stock, jams and jellies, pickles, cider, ketchup, granola, sausages, pasta, beer, maple syrup, bread, cheese, baskets, and deodorant. In the fall, she prepares school supplies, puts warmer blankets on all the beds, harvests garlic and carves pumpkins, turns the soil in her gardens, winterizes her home and vehicles, knits new mittens and scarves, and makes advance Christmas shopping lists. Sometimes on Mondays she checks the batteries in all small appliances and smoke detectors. (You know, just something to look forward to.) I confess many of the things she does are completely outside the realm of my knowledge. For example, one February she found time to “check pets for health warning signs.” What did this process entail? How does one even begin to inspect one’s pets? Does it require equipment? Does she then have an item on a future calendar calling for the cleaning, replacing, or organizing of this equipment? The mind reels.
Martha no doubt realizes not every item on her personal calendar will translate to others. Not all of us will “Appear on Oprah to discuss garden borders” or “Visit Norway to photograph fjords.” And even some of the monthly tasks are admittedly a little ridiculous. So why do we like it? For the same reason we like Jane Austen and The Lord of the Rings and Lost. Utter escapism. It’s a window into another world, a world where we all have a cedar-lined linen closet and spend Tuesday mornings pruning the roses in a shady straw hat. A world where there’s a season for everything, where everything is in its proper place, and all is order and beauty and afternoon exercise for the Alsatians. We read it and feel like the lady of the house. We read it and our fingers itch to dispatch our tasks quickly and efficiently, and then mark them off of our to-do lists with neat little checkmarks. We read it and for a moment we live in a perfect world.

This entry was posted in Keep House and Carry On. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to martha’s month

  1. Pingback: of David Allen, Getting Things Done | part of the main

  2. Pingback: of the fine art of productive procrastination | part of the main

  3. this is a fun post to read! i am glad to have learned from your summary that i can appreciate a “window into another world” and be inspired by it, instead of being jealous of that “perfect world”! back when email forwards used to be funny, i received an interpretation of a “martha calendar” for the month of december. it included these tasks: “let air out of tires and replace with potpourri scented air”, “cut all chair legs so dinner guests will all be the same height”, and “bear son. wrap and place in color coordinated manger.” 🙂

  4. Pingback: my gallbladder and my heart | part of the main

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s