Last night I had a dream I was on Martha with nanaimo bars. I felt silly, as it isn’t my recipe, it’s the recipe from that homemaker in Nanaimo in the 1950s. It didn’t matter. My role wasn’t to show off my recipe, but to spread the news of Nanaimo bars to everyone.
Her people were all very very nice. All I could think of was that she was such a drip. I felt like the Beatles meeting the Rolling Stones. The best part of the dream was not that I was on Martha, but that I now had a life experience like unto the Beatles. (Except, you know, they idolized the Rolling Stones and I probably only see one episode of Martha every couple of months.)