For a praise whore like me, there ain't nothin' like the sweet, sweet sweetness of validation. And when it happens in front of a boatload of your peers, it's a sugar-coated dollop of glucose in a hard candy shell.

A coupla weeks ago I trekked on down to Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains and the waving wheat is rumored to smell sweet.

There was a distinct lack of waving wheat once we got past Kansas, but there was a field of incredible edible creations from all over the country at the Oklahoma State Sugar Art Show.

After catching dribs and drabs of the festivities on Food Network last year, I decided that for someone with a ferocious frosting fetish, it was a must-see. And I decorated a few cakes myself to plonk on the tables and make the other people look good.

It was astonishing. Outstanding. Diabetes-inducing. Hundreds of beautiful cakes, thousands of ideas I could steal with impunity. Buttercream, fondant, gum paste, pastillage and god knows what else in every imaginable shape and color. The insulin rush I got from just from spectating made me giddy.

I furtively popped in my own creations, which looked pretty puny next to the meticulously crafted competition, and went off in search of a deep-fried Snickers on a stick (this was part of the Tulsa State Fair, after all, and eating godawful food off a skewer is mandatory).

Imagine my surprise, my delight, my soul-stirring jubilation when I came back the next day and discovered I'd won not one, but TWO ribbons! And these weren't any honorable-mention-thanks-for-playing ribbons -- these were for SECOND PLACE and about the size your typical six-year-old gets for showing up at a horse show. I could hardly contain myself. Unbridled joy just bubbled out of me, forcing me to grab convulsively onto whatever was closest. I'm pretty sure I left some serious claw marks on my husband (which hasn't happened in years if you know what I mean and I think you do).

You can catch all the other winners when Food Network airs this year's show. Until then, you're stuck with mine. Drumroll please. Bigger. Louder. No, LOUDER. There ya go.

May I present this year's second place winner in the semi-professional class, holiday category: "An Independent Wind."

Those pinwheels are made of edible (though not very tasty) pastillage, and they really do spin!

Another drumroll please. And this time, try to put some feeling behind it.
May I present this year's second place winner in the semi-professional class, tiered category: "Farm Livin' is the Life for Me."

A cow, sheep, pig and stack of chickens stand in a corn-encrusted farmyard, lifting a weed-surrounded grain bin over their heads.

A scientific examination proves that each ribbon is roughly the size of Missouri.

To accept my ribbons, I got to promenade in front of hundreds of the best decorators in the country (who, honestly, had sat through a few too many ribbon presentations in way uncomfortable chairs and were just praying for the whole thing to end). Who cares if the thunderous applause was just my husband and my ego? It STILL COUNTS, dammit. It DOES.

Man, oh, man. After an event like that , the praise whore needs a cigarette. And some clean sheets. And someone to run out to McD's and get me a mcmuffin meal. I'm staying in bed all day.