Portrait of an Artist

Last week, some friends from my husband's work hosted a Halloween party. Tim was clearly worried that I would make the other wives look bad because he kept inviting me--and then uninviting me--to the fiesta. Three hours before the party, he was still unsure of whether or not he wanted me there. I strongly dislike social events of any kind and normally would have jumped for joy at being given an excuse not to attend one. The fact that my husband made such a big deal about me not really being welcome at the party meant, of course, that I insisted upon going.

Not only did I commit to attend the event, but I also volunteered to bring a dessert. Being the good little homemaker that I am, I made a vamped up version of my special kitty litter cake.

Tim was thrilled with my contribution to the party fare; so were several of his coworkers.
"That's disgusting," said one woman as she bit into a store-bought cupcake with glow-in-the dark orange frosting and black sprinkles.

I assumed that a cake decorated with mock cat excrement would be the crowd favorite. That prize, however, went instead to a shockingly realistic display of edible human feces.

(The top and bottom toilet seat lids are made out of paper plates. The "droppings" themselves are rice krispy treats dipped in chocolate and rolled in peanuts and/or fruity pebbles)

Needless to say, I dedicated the rest of the party to hunting down the artistic genius behind this masterpiece. To prevent everyone from thinking that I was more interested in the dessert than in them, I made a specific point to not talk about the chocolate turds right off the bat. Most of my conversations with Tim's coworkers began like this:

"Hello. I'm Jana. Nice to meet you. Did you make the toilet bowl filled with poo?"

At the time, three sentence fragments seemed a sufficient lead up to the subject that I really wanted to discuss. In hindsight, I may have benefited from a few more.

When I finally located the artist, I effusively praised the woman for her creativity, passion, and overall good taste.

"That is the most amazing thing that I have ever seen," I gushed, as my body folded into a deferential bow.

My compliments were cut short by a tug on my elbow. As my husband dragged me away from her holiness, I wiped tears of gratitude from my eyes. Most people live their entire lives and never get so close to greatness. I am indeed blessed.