Who Do You Have To Sleep With

The Queen Of Crafts Herself, Martha Stewart, And I Have The Same Birthday. I Prefer To Think It's The Glue-gun Wielding, Perfect-tart-producing Martha And Not The Copper Pan-throwing, Jail-going Martha. But I Suppose If I Am Going To Share A Calendar Square With Some Of Martha, I Have To Share It With All Of Martha.

Every Day Of My Adult Life, I Have Worn At Least One Piece Of Jewelry From My Maternal Grandmother's Collection, All Of Which Were Manufactured By Famed Danish Silversmith Georg Jensen. To The Naked Eye, I Am Either A Jensen Loyalist Or A Grandmother Loyalist. Really I Am Just A Pretty Things Loyalist.

I Used To Think That Nails-down-a-chalkboard Was The Worst Sound In The World. Then I Moved On To People-eating-cereal-on-the-phone. But Only This Week Did I Stumble Across The Rightful Winner: It's The Sound Of A Baggage Carousel Coming To A Grinding Halt, Having Reunited Every Passenger On Your Flight With Their Luggage, Except For You.

Like Most Citizens Of Popular And International Urban Centres, I Don't Take Advantage Of The Cultural Opportunities. Perhaps This Comes From Growing Up In Suburbia. Home Is Where You Eat, Sleep, Read, Watch Television And Ignore Your Parents. It Is Not Where You Go To The Ballet And Then Attend A Heated Panel Discussion About It Afterwards.

The Search For One's First Professional Job Is Not Unlike A Magical Love Potion: When One Wants To Fall In Love With The Next Thing One Sees, One Generally Does.