At first glance, Martha Stewart, queen of artfully distressed home furnishings, might not seem to have much in common with Michael R. Milken, one-time king of junk bonds.
My mom, the fabulous Bertie Kinsey, is an amazing seamstress. She quilts and sews and is so crafty. We call her the Southern Martha Stewart!
I admire but don't envy people who have children and also have big, wonderful perfect houses. Maybe Martha Stewart could do it; to me those two things aren't compatible, but I know our children will grow up with a feeling that home is a place of comfort.
Who doesn't want to be Martha Stewart?
I certainly know women who had children, quit their jobs, and still have full-time nannies. That's who these women are: Even to the detriment of their own relationship with their kids, they want to appear perfect Martha Stewart moms.
With Martha Stewart, the power of the brand, the power of television, taught me that if you can marry all those ingredients - like you marry a great song with a great artist - and get the right television exposure, then you've got something that really is going to be sustainable. You can expand and blow up.
My mother could do absolutely anything. She was like Martha Stewart before such a thing existed.
Lemon curd is one of the first things I remember cooking when I was old enough to use the stove without supervision. I looked up a recipe in my one of my mom's Martha Stewart cookbooks and went to work, stirring anxiously and monitoring closely for signs that the mixture was thickening so as not to curdle the eggs.
If I have to be compared to somebody, it is to Martha Stewart.
Martha Stewart contributes more to our civility than the Baptist church.
