Soul mate, Bowl mate

Okay, so this story might get a little complicated and lengthy because it's complicated and lengthy.

I'll start by saying I met my soul mate last night....no offense to the wife....my soul mate is a quirky-looking 71 year old bald man who I met at a fund raiser last night.

The wife says my guy looks a bald Jack LaLanne. My soul mate and I were meant to be together--after all, I was the most under-dressed person in the room and he was the second most under-dressed person in attendance.

Before I can tell you about Doc Bowlman, I have to backtrack. After all, what fun would it be to go right to the meat of the story about this complete stranger talking about trimming nose hairs and floating turds right during the benefit dinner? Besides, I have to backtrack to last year's disaster of a fundraiser art project before I can talk about this year's event and meeting my man.

Let's digress. My dear friend, Belvidere Adams, is a big wig with a a regional food pantry. Each year, they hold a fundraiser where artists make bowls and sell them during a silent auction, with all bowl proceeds going to the panty. As Bevidere Adams and I go way back, she asked me to make a bowl. I most willingly and excitedly agreed.

So, I'm thinking: HUNGER. Yeow, that's a serious subject. I'll make a bowl about hunger. (I have no idea that this benefit will be filled with crusty rich people looking for crafty projects--I'm thinking ART, not craft here--and the wife will tell you I make some pretty weird, tacky art.) I consider hunger--it's painful, it hurts, it's black, it's worse than most Americans can understand as they aren't hungry. I even go to the Bible and find a verse about hunger and pain: "You Shall Be Filled." I'm thinking, hot damn, this is PERFECT! I get to making my bowl, making sure it looks black and painful but still conveying hope as illustrated by this Bible verse.

I think I am WAY profound. You can't really see it here in the photo, but the bowl has shards of glass and sticking-up thumbtacks representing pain. Hunger is glamorized at times by the press, so I made some of the bowl shiny and pretty and tacky. I put the Bible verse in there several times to give the hope that the Pantry can and will make a difference.

I finish my bowl and proudly set off for the fundraiser.

Imagine my surprise when I get there and it's filled with all these cutesy, craftsy bowls. I start to realize how scary my bowl looks next to all these other cute bowls. My bowl looks downright TERRIFYING next to these sweet as sugar nice bowls.

I panic.

Worse, I panic and there is nothing I can do. I think about stealing the bowl and run screaming down the street, but it's too late for that. Worse worse, no one bids on my bowl. They don't get it. They are looking for cute candy dishes and pretty things to display on their Holiday tables. This leaves the wife, god bless her, to make the only bid on the bowl......

We are now the proud owners of "The Scary Bowl." THAT'S true love. What a wife!

It becomes a standing joke all year about my scary bowl....so, I was VERY surprised when Belvidere Adams asked me to make a bowl again this year. I thought she was kidding, but to my surprise, she was not. This year, she gives me these ying-yang type bowls and I'm all a-glow. I decide why not? I'll just make a craftier, cuter bowl this year--after all, I now know the audience.......

Come on, you know I can't make a cute, crafty bowl. I tried and I talked a good game and I could picture what would work for the crowd, but as the wife says, "Does everything you make HAVE to have glitter in it?" Yes, I'm tacky and I'm an artist and I can't do crafty no matter how much I want to do this to eliminate world hunger. Although I talked a good game and had great intention, it's another scary bowl (albeit not as scary as last year's bowl). I panic again, only this time Belvidere Adam's 11 year old daughter stops by the house and reassures me that the bowl isn't scary at all.....I like the bowl, but I liked last year's bowl, so I have to take the word of an 11-year old that the bowl will be okay. I make her swear on the Girl Scout's promise that she doesn't think the bowl is scary.


We go to the fund raiser, Not-so-scary-scary-bowl in hand, and find ourselves seated with two strangers, along with Belvidere and her husband No-Knees Parkman. Turns out this guy is a retired doctor and he's got all sorts of fascinating, hilarious, adventurous stories. I'm just glad this guy--who is basically wearing the same shoes as I am--is sitting at our table. I hate to be alone in my fashion faux paux-ness. His wife is very funny and engaging and I find myself literally in tears twice during the meal. C'mon, I can't even think of the last time I laughed so hard I cried....and here, I do it twice in one meal. Doc and wife are very interesting, down-to-earth people and their sense of humor is unparalleled. I don't know how Doc and I didn't manage to get ourselves thrown out with how hard we were laughing. It doesn't seem funny while I'm sitting here typing this, but I promise you, the wife and I had a great time (I had a better time because the wife is much more an upstanding citizen than I will ever be.)

I tell Doc & his wife the story of the scary bowl, adding that the wife had to buy it because no one else bid on it. Belvidere and No-Knees try to make last year's scary bowl sound appropriate for the event but the wife and I explain that this crowd is not ready for scary or tacky and I am both in the art department. He asks me which bowl is mine this year and I tell him it's the scary ying-yang bowl that would make a nice ashtray.

For most of the meal, I didn't know this guy was a doctor and there was NO WAY I would ever have guessed he was 71 years old. He was really a humble guy, when I think about it...and his wife was really down-to-earth, talking about the merits of stretch pants after the age of 45. When I found out he is 71, my jaw hit the table. I would have guessed him to be 60, tops. This made him even more intriguing....but honestly, I was much more interested in his stories and naughtiness than his age. We're laughing and hooting and I'm crying I'm laughing so hard and the wife is laughing and his wife is laughing and I find myself eating his wife's half-eaten chocolate dessert and they are drinking our wine (we don't drink so it was a great trade--wine for chocolate) and No-Knees is speechless and the bowl bidding went on. Doc Wife is bidding like a banchee--she's bidding on all sorts of things, price be damned. As she's drinking more wine, she's bidding more. After having a Chocolate Martini, I think she just threw the charge card on the bidding table and tried to buy everything.

While she's out bidding, I'm listening to Doc talk about how he shaves his head once a week and that's also when he trims his nose hairs. I burst out laughing, as (1) I can't imagine anyone has to cut their nose hairs weekly, and (2) I can't believe somebody but me just said this at the dinner table. He can't believe he just said this and he starts to apologize but I tell him he has NO IDEA who he is talking to and how much I would appreciate anything about nose hair trimming. He then tells a story about going on a trip with a friend where her turd (his word--I would have used "Poop") wouldn't flush and he eventually just pulled it out of the toilet and threw it away. I announce loudly, "I'VE FOUND MY SOUL MATE!" Bodily function stories, here we come!

Side note: the wife and Doc's wife seemed quite fine with this announcement, as the two of us really did appear to be two tacky, low class peas in a pod. I did follow my announcement with a quick statement to his wife, assuring her that she has nothing to worry about. Trust me, she was not worried but rather very entertained.

The wife comes back to the table with great news--TWO people have bid on my bowl--I am elated, as (1) she won't have to buy my bowl again this year; and, (2) I feel a morsel of success in the art department (it's hard to have confidence when no one bids on your bowl). Two strangers have bid on my bowl. It's a banner night!

The bidding ends, the wine is gone and it's time for me to pay for the bowl I bid on (I was the only bidder--lady, I know how it feels--it's a nice bowl, nothing I would ever make or could make--very creative, I thought.) Doc's wife is all giddy as she "won" like ten bowls.....

.....imagine my surprise when Doc walks up to our table and puts my bowl on the table...that rat bastard outbid those other two ladies and bought my bowl.

That was one really nice act of kindness. I'm rather speechless.....

The wife announces she's just glad she didn't have to buy the bowl this year.