Just for the record

I hate Martha Stewart. Haaaaate her. Seriously, where does that chic find the time to do all her creating? And how does she have so many exotic things on hand in her kitchen. Stinkin' ridiculous I tell ya. I just got done leafing through the latest edition of her magazine (I got a subscription for free) and there is not one thing in there that I am capable of completing. Seriously. Take this recipe, for example, from page 237 of December's Martha Stewart Living:

Roasted Pears and Quinces with Tangerine Zest
10 small pears, preferably Forelle, peeled, halved, and seeded
(wth is Forelle? Is it some sort of grading system? Like AAA? LLLL?)
5 quinces, peeled, halved, seeded, and cut into 8 to 10 wedges
(Quince? Really? That's a food? Not the 5 baby thing? Really?)
1 lemon, halved
(OK, OK, I can't complain about this one)
2 ounces unsalted butter
(You mean they make it without salt? That's a shame.)
1 cup sugar
6 tangerines, zest cut into strips, and juiced (about 1 cup)
(So you cut the tangerine into strips? and juice the zest? What?!)
2 vanilla beans, split and scraped, pods reserved
(Hmmm. Wait just a minute while I saunter out to my vanilla bean tree and harvest a couple of pods.)
2 cups dry white wine
(Don't you know I'm Mormon, lady?)
Vanilla-Bean Creme Anglaise (recipe above)
(You mean you want me to actually make something else, after all this hoo-haw? Besides the fact I can't even pronounce that A word.)

I won't reveal the rest of the steps required to actually make this wondrous fruity delight, because the ingredient list is enough to make me throw the whole dang magazine at the wall. Is she for real?

Maybe I get so mad because I think maybe, just maybe, I should be capable of creating these types of splendid things. My home should be filled with Kumquat-Braised Short Ribs, Celery Root and Apple Slaw, and hand-constructed, black-and-white-roving felted penguins. (For the record, I am not making those things up. Check page 206 for the roving penguins).

But those things are so far out of my league that I just laugh and then curse and then cry. Sure it would be nice to have a perfectly decorated home and delectable foods with which to entertain my entourage of guests. But I don't. It's just me, and my 5 buck Little Caesar's pizza, and 2 kids wearing mismatched clothes, and a husband that puts up with it all.

So next time the 5-pound issue of Martha Stewart Living arrives at my door, I'm chucking it at the nearest feral cat. I don't need that magazine staring up at me from the coffee table, making me feel guilty for not being a crafting, cooking, creating goddess. Because, really, I don't think even Martha Stewart is capable of all that. Oh, and did I mention I hate her?