Dear Plankton,

Hello, it�s me again, your secret self, the part you keep hidden. That�s right, it�s me, Martha Stewart, your other personality! You should have realized that I would emerge again and this time, I�m not planning on leaving. You are in my hands, the ones with the little gloves with the hand-sewn pearls, forever. You never should have let me out at all but you did. And I have a few more plans for you.

Yes, sewing Kat�s prom dress from blue satin was the start of it. While you once only attempted patterns that required minimum fitting and minimum alteration, I looked out your eyes and I saw what you were doing. I saw you make up that bodice in muslin first so you could adjust the fit. Yes, I know you thought you were being prudent. Yes, I know you thought you were being a good dressmaker, but who drove you to this elaborate project. No, it wasn�t your checkbook. You could have afforded a prom dress for the girl. It was the glory of people admiring it and having Kat say, �My mother made it.� It was me, me, me, me, your inner Martha.

Now, about those bandannas. Yes, you know what bandannas. The girl scout troop bandannas for Chicago. You had an opportunity to just buy the blue one. Day-Hay told you the plain blue ones would work. But I�d started flowing out of your innermost soul through the crack made when you started that prom dress. I wrenched through the hole you opened when you entered Michaels. I had you. I knew I had you when I turned you around and you spotted that green fabric spray paint. Look what I made you do:

Next, I knew I needed help. I knew that making team t-shirts for the Battle of the Books team was my type of project but I needed something over the top to gain total control. I called out my secret helpers, Day-Hay and her teammate E. They in turn called to Kat and this project became big, big, big. It involved fabric paint. It involved elaborate drawing (and, dear, it�s okay that you drew from a book that showed you how. After all, I am a crafts person, not an artist.) It involved glitter. What you produced was inner Martha at its finest:

Now that I�m out, you�re in trouble! I�ve noticed the mis-matched furniture in your living room. (I�ve also noticed all the clutter all over your living room floor but that�s no problem. I�m Martha. I hire people to do the dirty work�and boy is that dirty work!) I know that May is coming and I�m dying to get at those flower beds. (No, don�t take the word �dying� as an invitation. Killing me won�t help. You can�t kill me. I�m a soul. I�m eternal.) We could even gussy up the bird cage together and, while we�re at it, get some additional parakeets to coordinate with every room of your house.

No, you can�t stop me. You thought we could strike a deal over that prom dress but you were wrong. Your body and soul are mine and I�m not giving them back. We�re together forever and it will be glorious.

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