How to Turn Your Sister-in-Law Into a Frog According To the Manager of Joann Fabric and Crafts, Who Runs a Coven on the Side

          Listen closely to hear one of her names spoken in a whisper while you stand in the seasonal décor aisle. She is all the same: The Crafty Crone, The Hag of Hot Glue, The Enchantress of Embroidery. Her birthname is Sherry and she appears to only be the General Manager of the Joann Fabric and Crafts store in the strip mall, sandwiched between the Weight Watcher’s meeting center and the Carvel ice cream parlor, on the far side of town. Those of us who are in the know have only come to know through word of mouth, and only after one of the other coven sisters have decided we can be trusted with the secrets hidden beneath the shelves of scrapbooking supplies, the mysteries tucked inside magazines on quilting techniques, the words threaded through silk flower garlands.    
          Continually visit the store under the guise of yarn sales and novelty cupcake liners until you become close to one of the sisters of the coven. You will know she is one of us from her sly eyes, the gentle tone of her voice as she explains the best way to stitch a bobble to a very young crafter, and the black cat enamel pin she may wear beneath her name tag. Yes, some of us are employees at the store, but others appear only as guests—elusive and harder to spot for the unknowing. We’re young queer women recently graduated from liberal arts colleges, mothers with waning energy and insatiable appetites for activities of their own, empty-nesters extending their wings, grandmothers with stories they’ll never tell and singles who would rather not mingle. You won’t know which one I am, and I like it that way. 
          Be patient. We will sniff you out. We will notice you. We will come to you when we are ready. 
          When you are approached by a woman with a slanted smile and a seemingly benign “What can I help you with today?” answer “Custom framing.” 
          Follow her without hesitation. Don’t blow our cover, or we will deem you unworthy of our help. Believe us when we tell you: we do not suffer sloppy projects and foolish women who rely on men instead of their own intellect, equally.
          My sister will take you to the back of the store where raw wood figures and measuring sticks and other tools of a similar ilk are kept. Once there you’ll have the chance to concisely explain what you seek from us. It’s true we already have an idea, but we want to hear it from your own lips. We want to hear it the way your voice says it. Then, you will buy at least one item of your choosing using a 25%-Off coupon and be on your way. 
          Do not return to the store until after the coven councils and calls out to you. Don’t try to give us your phone number, we don’t need it.
          You will wonder if we are searching you on Google and stalking your social media. We will, and then some. We will pull cards and whisper to crystals and watch as Sherry swings a hand-carved pendulum above her soft, creased palm. Her charcoal-stained finger tips, smelling of lemon hand cream, will move as she mutters an incantation over an earthenware bowl filled with herbs grown in her garden and dried in her kitchen. We will do other things you are not privy to know of and yet some other things I will not speak of here. We will want everything of you we can have. We will know about the things you hide (how you performed burlesque in college); we will know what makes you proud (the praise your daughter receives from other parents who say she is so well behaved on playdates) and what makes you sad (the Grand Canyon, you know why) and scared (being seen while eating) and what hurts you most (how you have never been anyone’s first choice in anything). We will know of the time you considered sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend. We will know how pears make your tongue tingle. We will know even things you yourself are unaware of, like the words you let loose in your sleep. Nothing is safe from us, but we are not here to injure you. This is as much for our protection as it is yours. We cannot assist everyone, you know. 
          If the sisters are satisfied with what we’ve found, and spirit has agreed that you bring with you no harm, we will invite you to join us in a circle around the firepit in Sherry’s backyard at the next New Moon.
          Bring an offering. We like charcuterie, chocolate and coffee.
          We’ll partake in nourishment and then we’ll light the fire with a gentle blow on your thumbnail, a strand of hair pulled from your scalp tied into three knots, words you will not understand, and the blink of an eye. Do not be disturbed if the flames lick a little purple and smell of your favorite scents (seaweed, crayons, fresh bread). It’s our first display that will make you believe we’re the real deal, that we’re all the things they’ve called us. Off, uncanny, abnormal, of the elements, otherworldly, wrong, beautiful, nasty, too smart for our own good, dangerous, benevolent, sinister, homely, alarming, hysterical, abrasive, delicate, cold-hearted, emotional, graceful, brutal, lunatic—magick with the “K” at the end.
          Then, Sherry will welcome you into the center of the circle we have formed around the firepit. She’ll stand with you beside the flames and ask, “What is your artistic strength, my friend?” 
          Remember to answer honestly. There is no wrong answer. No art or interest will be disregarded. If you doubt this, consider the anecdote of the woman who sought our help with long-evasive fertility and proclaimed that she was best at making potholders weaved together with brightly colored nylon loops on a metal loom, as it was her favorite pastime as a child. Sherry smiled, revealing her favorite chipped incisor, and explained just which colored-loops to use, in what pattern to weave, which day to begin the practice and which day to end, the words to chant to the potholder as it was made, and finally, where to hang it up within the woman’s home. Not six months later was that woman pregnant with healthy triplets.
           So, if you’re honest, and we hope you will be, you’ll answer that your greatest strength lies in baking.
          We already know you were kneading dough before elementary school. Piping frosting by puberty. Experimenting with butter and brown sugar for fun on quiet Friday nights in high school. There is no sense in either lying, or downplaying your talents. Speak up, and heed Sherry’s instructions for turning your terrible-wife sister-in-law into a frog on her next birthday. 
          While the lavender fire warms your thighs, Sherry will tell you: 

1. 1. 1. Blue Velvet cake batter from scratch; tell the batter who it is intended for no less and no more than five times. 
      2. Thick cream-cheese frosting tinted pale blue; as you spatula-smooth it around the cake, speak quietly of every instance in which your sister-in-law has intentionally sabotaged holidays, birthdays, your bridal shower, the gifts you’ve spent time and money on. Do not shy away from the time she told you that you were getting too fat for your favorite skirt with a saccharine tone. Include her smirks and eye-brow raises, her back-handed compliments and throwaway remarks about your mother. Everything that has happened across the dining room table when nobody else, least of all your husband, was looking. Speak aloud the filthy word she used to describe your family’s lineage when she didn’t know you were in the room. Shout back what you would have liked to say to her in return.
      3. Add a glittering turquoise gel icing to evoke the look of a lake; spit twice over each of your shoulders. Left, then right. Right, then left. 
      4. Gingerly adorn the flat face of the dessert with green fondant lily pads you have cut with your own hands. Do not use a cookie cutter. Never use a cookie cutter.  
      5. Then, place the ceramic frog cake topper—conjured from what was once a white hydrangea plucked from Sherry’s garden by one of my sisters—atop your creation. 
      6. Next, insert the pinkish, twisted-taper candle pulled straight from Sherry’s mouth into the amphibian’s open gob. It will appear as a greedy tongue reaching aloft for its insect dinner; the creature will already begin to resemble its human counterpart.
      7. Serve the cake on a white milk-glass stand underneath a glass cloche.  
      8. Do not allow anyone else but your sister-in-law to blow out the candle. 
      9. Stifle your laugh when she belches out an authentic ribbit and your mother-in-law screeches and your husband looks dumbfounded. 
      10. Eat a large bite of the cake, lick the fork clean of all remaining frosting and crumbs, to seal her fate. 

          Sherry will say all of this slowly, her throaty voice melodic and smooth. If you are smart, you will follow what she says to a tee, or the consequences will be greater than you can imagine. Understand, the consequences are not of our doing. This is simply how this works. In our world, there is risk and there is reward. Know that once you begin the spell, you have stepped into our world, and there is no turning back. You must commit to the act. For the record, I have faith in your ability to commit. I feel the strength of your conviction even from where I sit observing you. I, too, once had a sister-in-law.          
          When Sherry is done, she’ll place her creased artist palms over both of your eyes. When you no longer feel her skin touching you or smell the lemon of her lotion, and a cool breeze crosses your thighs where they were warm from the fire, you will have been dismissed. We will have dispersed or disappeared, you will not know which, and we prefer it that way.  
          Lastly, my friend, tell no one what you will see or hear that night. We will know if you do.