I had a fantasy recently and imagined what it would be to get together - overnight - with Martha Stewart.
I don't imagine any lovemaking, but rather the morning after. Every time I think about it I get really excited because Martha is just on fire with creativity. I really admire her.
Here's what happens: I open my eyes and first notice that my clothes from the night before are neatly folded in a pyramid shaped stack with a decorative string of dried pea pods painted gold, binding them together. There's Martha, already dressed in a crew-neck sweater and pleated slacks, perfectly coifed, looking just like she looks on TV.
"Good morning," I say. "You're up early."
"Yeah, I made you a newspaper. That's all rice paper, you know. And that's balsamic vinaigrette. You can eat it like a scone once you're done reading it."
"You made the newspaper?"
"Yeah, I just finished the press last week. I made a newpaper press out of tweed and some cotton fiber."
"You made a newspaper press? That's interesting."
"Thanks. And i gathered all the news myself using a complex system of charming carrier pigeons who live in the barn loft."
"Really!"
"All the glass in this house I blow myself. I have a smelter out in the hand-hewn woodshed."
"You make...?"
"Yeah, I've also got a bauxite mine in Idaho that we dug out. Because I can my own organic garden vegetables, I thought it would be better if I made my own cans. Then I could get good quality."
"Martha, I notice that while we're talking, you're stepping in grapes."
"Yes, I'm making my own wine."
"Your lingerie last night was very sexy."
"Made that. Raised the silkworms. I also grow cotton for my everyday skivvies. You see that cotton out there?" She points out the window.
"You spin your own cotton?"
"Yes."
"Listen, do you mind if I call my wife? I don't want her to get suspicious."
"Fine, let me get you the phone I built from civil war kitchen utensils I collected from swap meets in the South."
"You built the phone?"
"Yes, and the camcorder over on the table which we will use to document the bird feeder we're going to build together out of that scented spruce tree in the back."
Of course, this would never happen. I've already met Martha and we got along fine. She even lets me fool around in her workshop now and then - as long as I don't touch anything.