Good is Good Enough

I was reading a new Martha Stewart Living magazine the other day, one that someone had donated to our staff lounge. I hadn’t read Martha since before she made those ponchos in jail. I hadn’t read her since before she finally got her hair out of her eyes. It was one of those read/eat lunchtimes I normally love. (See Paper Cuts “Tables for One” on the pleasures of reading and eating.) But you know what? I couldn’t stick with her “Gentle Reminders” at the front of the magazine, the ones that told me to change out my summer draperies and air out the wool blankets for fall. I didn’t care that she made her damask pillows up in her new craft room.

This didn’t surprise me. I’ve been feeling this way for a few months now. A new copy of Real Simple, a croissant and a cup of tea, and a few hours to myself, and I’m normally happy as a lark. But there’s something turning me away. And I know what that is.

The constant push for self-improvement, that’s what. Like I said, in the last six months, when I read these magazines, I began to feel anxious and jumpy. I felt jealous of those things such as Martha’s craft room—and even more jealous of the fabulous crafts that came out of it. There was that voice telling me, “Pretty to look at but you’re never gonna do that.” Do men have the same feelings when they read Modern Woodworker or Northern Gearhead? Or do they have some sense in their heads (like the kind that comes for many married men reading Playboy), the kind that tells them this is for pure enjoyment, eye candy only?

I used to feel that way, that these beautiful things, these beautiful things like perfectly organized closets and great crafted memo boards, were for pleasure viewing only. I didn’t have to perfect them! I could even use the stuff in my short stories—to illustrate the perfectionist housewife, for instance. They didn’t mean ME when they printed those templates for stenciling long stairwells. These are just pretty things, like the shiny baubles birds go after on the seashore.

The thing is, there is just so much to fail at. I remember that line from Anne Lamott, when she shares her mom’s advice about men: “Mama told me not to marry a fixer-upper.” I think mamas everywhere should say, “Do not be your own fixer-upper. There is not room for continuous improvement.” I mean otherwise we’re all going to be walking around with our hands holding our heads and thinking “please don’t let me fail, please don’t let me fail,” like Marisa Tomei in the scene with Mel Gibson in What Women Want, when she’s thinking, “please let him be gay, please let him be gay, please don’t let me be rejected again . . .”

I worked for a publishing house that brought in TQM, Total Quality Management. We had all these consultants analyze every last step of all the work we did and then pushed us to deconstruct those steps further to see what we could kick out, what we could bring in. Our new CEO kept saying, “It will feel like we’re taking apart the plane while still trying to fly it.” Yeah, and that’s not an overworked metaphor. The thing is, have any of you ever flown Pulkovo Airlines?

So every move we made we felt the heat of TQM. Did you really need to make a copy of the edited manuscript before sending it to the author? In fact, do you really need to send the author a copy? Maybe you didn’t really need to copyedit books that much anyhow.

My friend worked at UPS at the time and they were going through TQM analysis, too. So they’d time her deliveries and ask her to walk up to the house with a package in one hand and her pen and pad in the other, writing as she delivered. Anything to shave off time, improve productivity.

In the end, the TQM scheme failed. Our CEO was fired. He went off to sell Amway, last I heard. The books aren’t being produced any faster or any better, though I do understand there is less copyediting going on. Better product? Probably not.

Now my anxiety has turned to indifference and the last few times I’ve opened up the mags for ladies I don’t even feel the pull of self-improvement: lose weight, save time, cook better, make love like a pro (sorry, honey). I just don’t really care. Now, don’t get me wrong, I can be motivated to make a really great roasted chicken, and Martha’s got a kicking recipe where you slather French’s mustard around and in the bird and roast it with potatoes and onions, and I wouldn’t mind seeing the video of her demonstrating it, either. But I’m not going to sweat it.

I recently attended a seminar by the marketing/branding firm Iconoculture. One of the key trends they’ve identified is the feeling among a new generation of adults that “good is good enough.” Works for me. Definitely works for me.

See, I just grilled some corn on the cob and I shaved the kernels off the cob into a big red bowl and now I’m eating those corn “slabs” with my fingers, straight out of the bowl. Damask pillows? Not tonight, honey. THIS is the good stuff.