Martha Stewart slept here...

I'll admit it. I love Martha Stewart. Well, I love her stuff. Same thing, right? Our kitchen at our new place (we're moving soon!) will be stocked full of Martha's stuff. Blue stuff. Red stuff. Blue AND red stuff. I cannot wait. Bowls, and towels, and Kitchenaid Mixers, and stuff. Who knew I'd give a crap about kitchen stuff? Who knew I'd want it to all be Martha Stewart? Part of me wonders if I was some how subliminally convinced to love all things Martha Stewart.

No, really. I'm being serious.

This time a year ago, I didn't know squat about Martha Stewart. And then we moved to the house we live in now. And I still didn't know squat about Martha Stewart. Crazy, huh? But!! But then, one night, whilst walking the dog down to the end of the block, across the street, and back up the other side of the block (he's tiny, he doesn't need to go far), I came across this one house. It's quite amazing...
It might be hard to tell from the picture, but the side yard of this house is so intricate. It's like the Magical Garden, or something. Seriously though, there's coy ponds, and a drinking water fountain, and a tiny wooden dog house....it's amazing.

But, the best part of it all? This:
That's right. Martha Stewart slept there. Nearly 8 years ago. Martha Stewart slept on my block!

And thus my infatuation with all things Martha began. (Or so I think.)


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On a side note, I feel like I have a cold coming on. I fear it may just be allergies (despite the fact that I try to convince myself I don't have them, year after year)...because I've been sneezing an awful lot, my ears have started to hurt, and now? My throat feels a bit sore. I just went to go check my lymph nodes on the sides of my neck to see if they were swollen...ya know, the typical indicator of sore-throat-dome....Only I must have forgotten that they took my lymph nodes away on my right side. So, rather than identifying if I had swollen lymph nodes or not, all I managed to do was make myself queezy by pushing on my incision site a bit over-zealously. Fail.