Channeling my Inner Martha - Part I

I love Martha Stewart as a person. Anyone creative enough to pull off the phenomenal handiwork she does is a goddess in my book.

The demonic presence that taunts me into thinking I can emulate her skills and handiwork must be channeled carefully and ignored if at all possible. I call this demon my Inner Martha. She hovers just behind my left shoulder and whispers in my ear, with a soft reassuring voice, each time I do not save a milk carton or egg crate or plastic shopping bag.

"You know, dear, you could easily transform that simple spare paperclip into an absolutely exquisite holiday centerpiece, with just a few dabs of hot glue, a small bit, say fifteen yards, of wide red velvet ribbon edged with ivory lace trim, some dried sprigs of holly, a handful of imported cinnamon sticks, fourteen paper doilies with the edges trimmed just so (use this handy pattern I'm faxing to you), 32 twigs of lavender, two dozen lengths of fiddle fern, a discarded strawberry basket turned upside down and spray painted white, and just a teensy bit of baby's breath tucked into the lower left edge. Nestle a four-inch hand thrown clay bowl in the center of the fern cluster, then toss in 12 ounces of orange peel potpourri, warmed slightly over the homemade vanilla votive candle, and - you're done! See how simple that was?"