Channeling Martha Stewart

For years, Ron has said he'd love to meet Martha Stewart. Is he in luck! Within the next two days I'm predicting he'll be sleeping with Martha Stewart, aka me. It will be me on the outside, but pure Martha inside, which I'm pretty sure is going to be hellish and very unpleasant. We've been planning Tyler's graduation party for a month or so, writing down menus, making "to do" lists and everything else associated with a big blow out.Today I completely changed everything. The food was going to be inside. Now it's going to be outside. Why? Because our kitchen is narrow and it would be worse than I-435 at 5:00 p.m. I was going to have pasta salad and the ramen noodle salad (you know that salad that has made an appearance at every single food event in the universe since 1998). Now it's only the ramen noodle salad. Why? Who needs two dishes that similar? We were going to have the dessert table in the kitchen. Now the kitchen table's going outside by the grill and the desserts will be in the dining room. My brain is seriously in danger of becoming unfissured. At this point, I'm thinking that that might not be a bad thing.

Today I was standing in between the living room and dining room just staring. If you paid me eight hundred thousand dollars right now I couldn't tell you what I was thinking about. Probably trying to figure out which door will get used the most - front or back? Or maybe it was whether or not to move one of our toile chairs a little closer to the fireplace to improve the traffic flow. I swear to PeeWee Herman that Ron would have me locked up in a nanosecond if he could see inside my head. I'm about ready to make the call myself.

I think I'm so TOTALLY FREAKED OUT because I have no idea how many people are coming. Tyler nixed the idea of having an RSVP on the invitation, because kids his age think those initials are some AIM lingo (real sexy very pretty) and wouldn't RSVP even if they knew that it was the polite and customary thing to do when invited to a social engagement. And then he tells me that even if they come they might not eat, since there are multiple parties on the same night. But, I ask him, are they all going to have monogrammed petit fours and tiki torches and a kickin' slide show? Will they all have sparkling windows and scrubbed baseboards and candles of pyromaniacal proportions? Will the chef du jour be a cute, bald guy with a red goatee? Will there be party pics to take home as favors at those other parties? I thought not.

My biggest worry is now that I've got my Martha on . . . will I be able to get it off?