It’s that time of year again—Halloween and John’s birthday. Last year it was easier because on a trip to Ireland we were so lucky to get to visit the artist Gottfried Helnwein, who lives in a castle and has a collection of skulls that John thought was cool. I thought this astonishing artist, with his all-black attire and collection of poison bottles, was inspiration for a fictional character, while John obviously had skull envy, even though he had plenty of skulls himself (more of the respectable Tibetan art variety, though)—and he dropped major hints that a skull would be the ideal birthday gift (!). But with its bone artifacts and macabre trinkets from John’s travels, our living room was already straight out the Addams Family. Once a little band of Tibetan monks came over and shielded their eyes from one wrathful metal deity and indicated that we were majorly cursed and need to “cover” it. I still plan to put a bag over its head, but I’m afraid to get too close. But you know how it is when someone is very hard to buy for. You start to feel a little desperate—there are only so many skull cufflinks a girl can buy. I fortunately remembered reading that David Sedaris bought his partner a full skeleton, and this reassured me that buying a human skull wasn’t completely outrageous. So I ordered a skull online—as far as can tell there is only one place that makes a business of this. I spoke to the guy who assured me that it was very hard to find an “intact skull”– like one without bullet holes, for instance. The box arrived in a curiously weighty box Fed Ex, and it was all too creepy so I hid it under my long coat in my closet for a month and often thought about it in there, glancing over at the closet when no one was looking like something out of a horror movie. When the day came, I wrapped the box in blue birthday paper, contents unseen. At the celebration dinner with the kids and John’s mother, there was dead silence when John unwrapped the skull with a pleased and knowing expression and held up the skull. Then, “Why’d you do it, Mom?” my daughter piped, as if I’d actually done the poor guy in myself. She has no idea how hard John is to buy for! “Don’t you like to get what you put on your birthday list?” I asked. Only John’s mother was enthusiastic. I’m stumped for a present this year. Please let me know whether you have any ideas for me.