Forgetting something off Thanksgiving shopping list

Every year it is such a chore trying to remember everything at the grocery store in one trip. I don’t know if Martha Stewart can even make it happen without sending some of her paid lackeys to get those few items she forgot for the big Thanksgiving feast.

Even if I have my list, cross off each item as I toss it in the cart, don’t take the chillens with me, and try not to be distracted by anything shiny or the new coffee creamers – I just. can’t. do. it.

Adult ADD?

A case of the blondies? Perhaps.

No, I believe it is just the way the frozen turkey bounces. It’s the preoccupation with my sasquatch 22 pound turkey I purchased this last Saturday morning. By all mathematical equations, poking and prodding and altering of our second fridge temps, it SHOULD be defrosted by Thanksgiving morn. However, how many years does this actually work for me? I’ll let you know when it does.

Past history: Thursday morning – I am awakened by my anxiety medication bottoming out at 5:00 and sprinting to the fridge with high hopes of a squishy turkey. As previously mentioned…this has never happened. But a girl can always dream.

Then the early bird Jacuzzi party begins. Not as glamorous as it sounds and it often creates some gag reflexes, but no one else is awake in the house and this is MY time! I don’t do anything clever or interesting, but just get that damn bird to thaw out before the first guest arrives. It’s a long, laborious process; but usually there is an overabundance of snacks and cocktails available to entertain during this time. I won’t bore with the monotony of this process. You have imaginations.

Only one year did the meal get on the table an hour later than planned. This was last year. We had moved into a new house and invited everyone over early to chat. Initially a nice idea, but listen to me…DON’T do this. Everyone who brought food, wanted to cook it at our house. One oven and 5 cooks makes for one very cranky hostess who has been up since 5:00AM and hitting the cocktails early.

This year, I have it under control. The family is coming right before the meal with their heated dishes prepared, I’m SURE my turkey will obey and desist and if not…

I have everything else under control!

Tom Turkey defrosting with Buds

**Please follow the turkey manufacturers directions on how to properly defrost a turkey. This is not to replace their advice on how to prepare. Salmonella contamination is not a laughing matter. Please use caution this holiday.

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So do you have your turkey in the bag? Or are you running around like a turkey with its head cut off like me?

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© 2012, Stacey Hatton. All rights reserved.


Exorcising Martha is a labor of love

Published in The Kansas City Star

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


Hello, my name is Stacey and I was a Martha Stewart addict…

My pitiful story started in the mid ’90s, when I began devouring all of Martha Stewart’s magazine articles and books. It seemed harmless at first. Then her television program appeared where she had the innate gift of making everyone feel inadequate about how uncrafty they were. How could one woman have such control?

Her gorgeous autumn magazine would materialize in my mailbox and I would cancel all plans just so I could have my evening alone with Martha, uninterrupted. Then I would create the perfect cup of tea, which I would pluck from the November 1994 issue, Page 45 (fictitious example, please don’t try to look this one up), apply a dab of lavender to the lightbulb and curl up under my crocheted blanket Martha had designed the previous season. I would savor her every word.

I swear to you I was not the only person under her powers, and there was nothing we could do. The worst part was as we labeled our guest linen closets with our label makers (each towel properly folded and placed in descending order according to size and color) we knew something was just not right about her methods, and someone needed to force us to walk away from the proverbial Kool-Aid. But I couldn’t do it alone; I was in too deep.

Only when Martha was incarcerated was able to open my eyes for a split second and see she was “just a person” running a business. Thank heavens for white-collar crimes! No longer was she the arts-and-crafts-cooking-and-decorating deity I had let her become in my brainwashed mind. I repeated my mantra each day…

Cancel the subscription to her magazine. You can cut her loose. You don’t want decorating tips from an inmate! (Even though I bet her prison cell was amazing!)

So I started my own detox program, which I am now willing to share with others in crisis:

Step One: Just saying “No!” to the magazine was the beginning of exorcising my inner Martha Stewart. Then I had to throw away all of the truckloads of mail that came to my home, without opening it, of course. I’m sure those letters were begging me to take her back. They pulled at my empathetic heartstrings but I stayed strong.

Step Two: I told friends of my plan, so I was held accountable for my actions. This had to be female friends, I learned, because I found out that men did not exactly feel the same way about Martha’s methods as I did.

Step Three: I started talking to friends who I thought were well-adjusted. These persons had a balanced life between family, household and work. I interviewed them by plainly asking what their sock and underwear drawers looked like.

“What?!” you ask.

This is the perfect determinate of how Type-A (aka “Martha Stewart”) a person is. If you neatly fold and organize your underwear in your drawer (perhaps in rows) or fold socks and arrange them in a color-schemed rainbow, you might have been brainwashed. On the other hand, if you toss everything in drawers knowing guests will not see the contents, you are like the majority of the world, and perhaps more stable and definitely with more free time on your hands.

The problem is, the Martha Stewart revolution has not gone away. She has left a huge imprint on women across this country. Even after she was released from prison, women continue to escape from their hectic lives through crafts. I understand this, ladies. I was there.

Unfortunately, as far as I have researched, there is not a formal support group for this hollow assembly of people who are sucked into the scrapbooking, cleaning/organizing and decoupaging world, but I’ll tell you what: Your family misses you!

So exorcise that bossy, blonde convict from your head and drop the beads and hot glue gun, honey! You must reintroduce yourself to your family because I promise you — one former “prisoner of chores” to another — they want you back!

Stacey Hatton is a pediatric registered nurse, writer and public speaker. Her humor blog can be found at

Note: If you still have the love in your heart for Martha and want to get “One Autographed First Edition Hardcover of ‘Martha’s Entertaining:  A Year of Celebrations’ and One Admission Ticket per Person,”  call 913.384.3126 or click on for your admission package to her “MEET MARTHA” on Friday, November 11, 2011 @ 7:00PM at Unity Temple on the Plaza, 707 W. 47th Street, KC, MO.  I’m sure she will make you feel warm and fuzzy and so incredibly “crafty.” ~ Nurse Mommy


My Chocolate is Laughing at Me

Yes, it is that time again…surviving the week before Halloween.  The decorations are strategically placed, the pumpkins are purchased – not carved, mind you… the smell makes me barf and the girls’ Daddy has been well working until bedtime.  But they sure look pretty on the porch in a lovely formation that Martha Stewart herself would glance over her shoulder and say, “Nice job. They must not have children at their house.”  SEE, THAT CRAZY WOMAN DOESN’T KNOW EVERYTHING!!!

So back to Chocolate…and for all of you English teachers and grammatically perfect persons out there, yes I capitalize the word “Chocolate” because it is biblical to me.  A deity, if you will.  Now I will continue with my obsession.  My last week’s post regarding the snicker bars and how I was going to promptly take the bag of candy over to the neighbors kind of fell through.  Not because my neighbor wasn’t there.  Not because I haven’t had my neighbor over 3 times in my kitchen since then, BUT because I really wasn’t ready to let go of “It.”

All week long, I followed my “Weight Watcher’s-esque” food life plan and felt very proud of myself (down 5#, can I get a woop?).  But at three o’clock, those little giggles from the kitchen cabinet (aka the Snickers), which I moved to a lower shelf, so I didn’t have to hoist my leg up on the counter this week and pull myself to a standing position on the kitchen granite, strictly for fear that my children might learn this trick from their vertically challenged, yet limber mother, were conquered and slowly devoured each day.

Now, however, there is no Chocolate in my party bag of Halloween candy.  Just Starbursts and Skittles.  Am I going to be known as the house with the bad candy?  I think immediately before I put the candy out, I’m going to have my husband pick up a bag of Snickers for the T-O-T’s.

Hopefully, he won’t eat half of it before he gets home from the store!

(© Hatton, all rights reserved.)