Say what you will, I know how a column should be written. Sharp, concise, factual, every date and place where it should be, polished to a Greek perfection. Well, that’s how it should be.

Unfortunatey, I don’t know exactly when Martha Stewart was imprisoned. Nor do I know exactly why. It had something to do with stocks and bonds I think, but I’ve never really known the difference between a stock and a bond.

I know that some people don’t like Martha. I’m always running into someone who knew a woman, whose niece had a bookstore. Then Martha comes to that bookstore to autograph her books and the store has to be built over and all the books re-arranged and, well, you get the picture.

There’s always the possibility, too, that women are a bit envious of Stewart. She does everything so beautifully.

I remember watching her make wreaths out of hydrangeas. The flowers we used to call “snowballs” when I was a kid. The ones she was making into wreaths, though, were not white, but greenish. They made beautiful wreaths.

So beautiful that I experienced one of those insane moments that too often beset me. I could see myself planting a hydrangea bush, raising it to maturity, drying the fall blossoms, fashioning the wreaths. Sadly I’m not that optimistic and reason prevailed.

If a bit of envy caused me to dislike the gifted among us, though, I’d be known throughout the county as the biggest misanthrope hereabouts. Envy doesn’t take me that way. Most of my friends are talented people. I tend to follow them around, at a distance, making little whimpering sounds of approval with now and then a short howl of agony as I contemplate the gulf between us.

Anyway another feature my ideal column has, lack of digression, and I fear I’m digressing all over the place. So back to Martha Stewart.

The other night, don’t remember which night, I saw her on television. She was receiving an award of some kind. Don ‘t remember what the award was for.

Part of the reason why I don’t remember what the award was for is that the commentator spent so little time on the award and so much time in calling to the viewers’ attention the wire around Stewart’s ankle that keeps her from breaking her house arrest.

I don’t know how you feel about her house arrest, but I feel vastly comforted knowing that a blood-thirsty home economist like Stewart won’t suddenly be turned loose on the neighborhood.

I do find myself wondering &045; in view of the fact that every time I pick up a newspaper there’s

another story about a paroled child molester &045; why more precautions aren’t taken with such offenders. Usually one that has kidnapped, molested and murdered is somebody’s beloved child.

As I say, why are so many more precautions taken against the escape of Martha Stewart than against the night creatures of the too many horror stories?

(Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column runs Thursday.)