Read 'Em and Weep

Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod Reader,

DREAMS COME TRUE! Today, officially, I came face to face with one of my idols. It's been a long time coming, and it was a truly magical experience. Today, in a store on the Upper West Side.... I MET MARTHA STEWART!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! AAAH! AH! AH! When I heard that Martha would be signing copies of her two newest books, The Encyclopedia of Crafts and Dinner at Home, I knew just where I would be on this day at that time... the new Manhattan Michaels.

I've never attended a book signing before, and after hearing Martha describe the record breaking number of people who attended her California Costco engagements, I began preparations to wait on line as early as possibly I could. After a filling lunch and my first shave in two weeks, I packed a small bag of survival supplies... water, hand sanitizer, snacks, and my Encyclopedia of Crafts... and I headed downtown to the Grand Opening of Michaels on Columbus Avenue between 99th and 100th.

I arrived at the basement, crafting emporium at approximately 3:3o for the 5PM event. Growing up on Rag Shop and Treasure Island, I realised that simply by entering, I had experienced a 'first.' My first time in a Michaels. So far so good. A table featuring MS products for sale, along with their finished counterparts, let me know that I was headed in the right direction. I did a quick survey of the store's layout, and was pleased to see that at that point, only a few people were gathered to meet the guru herself. I picked up a copy of Dinner at Home, headed to the register, and purchased my very first cookbook. Back to the line, I was seventh to arrive, and I began waiting out the hour and a half until Martha's arrival. Customers loaded baskets with SUPER SALE priced items, and the newly formed staff were both friendly and accommodating to those of us 'die hards' waiting for our queen.
I passed time by skimming through the recipes of my freshly acquired tome, and by arranging small, farm themed toys, which were piled into little bins on an aisle capping face out. T minus fifteen until Martha. "What is this line for?" clearly less serious crafters asked, as more and more people joined my ranks. "Martha Stewart? Is she still alive?" a snooty adolescent in a Catholic school uniform replied. I'm not gonna lie, I almost snatched the bitch by the bun and pounded her face in with DIY American Girl Doll merchandise. "Martha? Meh. I got one of her books... I never even looked at it," a Bubby on a Jazzy chimed in. I will destroy you, Gramma! I've got a line full of backup, here... Let's see if you can out-scoot hundreds of housewives and gay men at the same time! Frazzled by neer-do-wells, talking smack about my favorite domestic goddess, I composed myself and began mindlessly leaning against the display which I had so meticulously arranged earlier. "Don't mind me, I'm just doing some pre-work shopping," a voice with the timbre of angels and experience rang in my right ear. I know that voice! I turned to face a woman whose hair was the color of gold and heaven... I know those balayage highlights!!! She turned to face me, and I gasped audibly with wide eyes and both hands over my mouth... the international symbol for shock and awe. IT WAS MARTHA!!!!!!! SHE WAS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!!! Like.... RIGHT NEXT TO ME, RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!! Stunned and feeling waves of both joy and disbelief (usually reserved for tweens to use on the likes of Hannah Montana,) Martha's right hand woman smiled wide at me, as I welled up with tears and my eyes turned glassy. "These turkeys are just perfect for Thanksgiving," Martha commented on the farm toys I neatly placed in perfect rows. I TOUCHED THOSE! I got a rare peek at Martha's fabulous footwear (brown leather, alligator embossed, triple strapped, Wellies,) and with that, Ms. Stewart approached her waiting table/book display, giving photo-ops to a gaggle of waiting photographers. Mommies with strollers got to go first, and my resentment for their 'special' express line was assuaged when one of them dropped her thick E of C book on her child's blonde head. "Ooopsy," she said with the vocal intonation of a corpse. I like your style, Miss. I had a million charming quips to fire at my Martha, but as I approached her and looked into her eyes, her beauty and power paralyzed me, leaving me able only to gush. "HI MARTHA!" "Hello, thank you SO MUCH for coming." "Thank YOU for all of you're informative programming and periodicals!" Martha giggle. "You and Sarah Carey have basically taught me how to cook over the past year! I'm so grateful, and I can't wait to use my Dinner at Home." "Sarah is just wonderful, isn't she?" Martha said of her contributing food editor, who is often featured on her daytime talk show. "YES! SHE IS! I cook from Body and Soul magazine all the time, and I've loved everything I've ever made!" "That is just great, thank you again." A Michaels employee snapped a picture with my cell phone camera during this tet-a-tet, and others congratulated me as though I had just won a marathon, beaming from within as I exited the designated autograph area. "You got two books signed! LOOK AT YOU," one particularly enthusiastic associate cheered, high five-ing my hand, it shaky from adrenaline. Perma-grin on my face, I headed out, elated. "I'll never forget that," I said to myself, of my sixty seconds with Martha. Two young ladies held up books outside of the store in an attempt to draw even more Martha fans to buy. I stretched my big moment into a few seconds more, snapping their picture before calling my Mom to inform her of the fun time that I just had. Martha Stewart's Dinner at Home is available everywhere now. The recipes are simple, accessible, and organized by season. Go get yours now, dammit! I can't wait to cook from mine.