Fat Fat Fatty

I appreciate Mardi Gras as only an agnostic can: it's an excuse to party, and I'm not spiritually obligated to give up anything.  It's not a last hurrah before Lent; it is a hurrah to kill time between New Year's Eve and St. Patrick's Day.

My only problem with Mardi Gras is that it discriminates against people who have jobs.  Hence my Vendredi Gras parties of year's past.  Which took place after Mardi Gras, thus highlighting the benefits of appropriating the holidays of other cultures and using them as an excuse to throw theme parties.

Now that everybody I know is tired on Fridays and/or out of town, Vendredi Gras has given way to Meowdi Gras, a fundraiser for my Richmond SPCA Dog Jog Team.  Meowdi Gras requires Meowdi Gras decorations.  Having a lot of free time in the afternoons and responsible adult stuff to avoid, Meowdi Gras decorations have been slowly escalating.  Did you know that if you take out the decades old batteries, you can still get a Purrtenders toy to purr?  And then dress it up like a sad old cat lady and declare it a decoration?  And how were there two different lines of unwanted pets in the 80s?

To balance out the crazy of putting stuffed cats all over the house, I decided to make a wreath.  Wreaths are sad and nerdy, but in slightly more stable way than cats.

How to Make a Mardi Gras Wreath

Materials required:

• A mother who makes lots of wreaths so you can possibly just find a wreath somewhere in the house
• A mask
• Mardi Gras beads
• Feathers
• Hot glue gun
• An A.C. Moore cashier who lets you use both your teacher's discount and a coupon
• Metallic paint you already have in the house

Step one:  Paint the mask.  It's important to do this before work so you can risk having green paint all over your hands.  Contemplate what would happen if you replied to colleagues and admins questions by saying you fingered the Hulk.

Step two: Wait for the mask to dry.  Rummage around for the crappiest wreath.  Consider what the hell you're going to do to make this straw wreath respectable without having to buy more stuff.

Step three: Realize that somehow, despite years of hoarding craft supplies from forgotten, unstarted, and unfinished craft projects, you only have curling ribbon and yarn.  Decide that you are too damn lazy to wrap any of these things around a straw wreath.

Step four: Contemplate Michaels ad.  Remember that Cabbage Patch Dolls were orphans waiting to be adopted.  Google Fluppy Dogs.  Discover that Fluppy Dogs had some weird, dimensional travel thing going on...but also ended up in the pound.   At least My Little Ponies lived in a free, feminist society.  Well, except for when the First Tooth Ponies sold the Newborn Twins into slavery.

Step five: Oh, right, making a wreath.  Go buy some ribbon.

Step six: Wrap ribbon around wreath while the 4 hour journey that is making a king cake.  Run out of ribbon.

Step seven: Buy more ribbon.  Make the mistake of wearing your red T-shirt to A.C. Moore so an old lady thinks you work there.  Decide to buy skinny ribbon.

Step eight: Finish wrapping the wreath.  Realize that your impulse to wrap it with curling ribbon and skinny ribbon was absolutely correct.

Step nine: Glue beads to the back of the mask.  Glue them some more until it looks right.

Step ten: Glue the mask to the wreath.  This may take several attempts as something designed to go over a human face does not easily line up with a wreath.

Step eleven: Hang this bastard up.  Wait for lesser beings to marvel at this seasonally appropriate masterpiece.  Revel in the smug satisfaction of not making some deco mesh horror.