martha bond

I fancy myself to be the coolest person alive. I am an ace homemaker: dinner on the table, constantly blooming flowers in the garden, spotless home (which I decorated myself using my impeccable taste and incredible crafting skills), all while never messing up my hair and nails. All this is accomplished while also kicking butt and being an international spy and all-around ninja. Kinda like Martha Stewart-meets-James Bond with the looks of a Victoria’s Secret model and the brains of a Harvard grad. I’m like that awesome guy in the Dos Equis commercials except better. Because I’m better at everything. (Have I mentioned my competitive streak?)

I know you might be shocked to find out this image isn’t 100% accurate. I know I was. In fact, I’d venture a guess on it being 100% INaccurate. My Martha Stewart skills lack: dinner is rarely on time and mostly consists of something that uses only one pot and takes under 20 minutes, I have no garden because all green things die within a 100-ft radius of me, my house is constantly covered in dirty paw prints, and I can’t remember the last time my hair wasn’t in a ponytail (not the cute kind either). Oh, and I usually wear yoga pants. Not because I look particularly cute or because I just finished yoga, but because those suckers are COMFORTABLE. We don’t even need to talk about my James Bond ninja skills because there are none and pipe dreams depress me. Even though I shop at Victoria’s Secret, I don’t look like the pictures. Thankfully, everything there is made with elastic which is blissfully forgiving and lets me ignorantly think that, why yes, I am a size 6. I do have a Harvard keychain which was given to me by my father who is very very smart. My brother got those genes though.

So I might be lacking in what I felt was important to lead a fulfilling, exciting life. But what I do have is a amazing man who loves me, a God who thinks I’m pretty stellar just the way I am, and a house overflowing with happiness (in the form of dirty puppies). Oh, and some really comfy pants. So I’m pretty much set in the life-satisfaction department, when you think about it. When it all boils down, happiness isn’t outward perfection but inward security in who you are. Which for me comes from God and is reinforced by the daily circus I call my life and those who are willing to stand in the ring with me.

So here’s to enjoying life as it comes, and stopping to smell the roses (from my neighbor’s yard, of course. Mine are all dead.)

PS-I still want to be James Bond.


One thought on “martha bond

  1. Pingback: bacon band-aids « always an adventure

I love comments. Did you also threaten to burn down your kitchen? Do you know how to get dogs (or ducks) to stop digging holes? Please tell me about it.

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