Microfamous

Poor Martha...
Years ago, I used to watch her TV show because she made me feel calm. There was something about her voice, the way she could throw together a five-course meal for a dinner party out of two eggs and some herbs from her garden, and her ability to create perfectly wrapped gifts with an old newspaper and some twigs and berries. I wanted to move in with her at Turkey Hill, in an entirely non-stalkerish way. I would take afternoon naps on her summer porch while listening to the birds sing, enjoy long walks in Westport, and wake up every morning to the smell of crisp bacon and butter scones.

I don't care if she's guilty or not. I respect that she wants to get her sentence out of the way and hope that her time in the big house isn't too awful.