I personally have had a rough few days/weeks.
They culminated with a co-worker explaining to me today how she had recently developed some moles and had them removed and how, oh, she noticed that I had a mole right there on the side of my neck (which she sort of whispered as though the mole had snuck up and taken me unawares) and they were really easy to get removed and how she was very pleasantly surprised and how I ought to think about it.
Uh huh. You read that right. She informed me that I ought to have my mole removed from my neck. No, I did not ask for this advice. In fact, I was walking by to put paper in the printer, so it was pretty much a drive-by insulting.
It's not just that this is blatently rude, which it is (I think I can say that with a lot of confidence). It's that between working in excess of 60 hours a week, worrying about Ben's job search, frantically trying to finish wedding details, attempting to lose enough weight to fit into my stupid dress by April 9th, and tyring to start packing, I really don't have time to worry about a mole on my neck that I've had SINCE THE SIXTH GRADE.
And in the sixth grade, it caused me a lot of worry and insecurity. And as I went into high school, I thought about having it removed. But then my best friend had one removed, and she had a big scar that bugged her almost as much as the original mole did. And then I decided that to go through all that pain and the annoyance of wearing a bandage on your neck for several days/weeks just to end up where you started--i.e., silly and insecure--was stupid.
Why do people think that they can just say just whatever the hell they want? And why do I seem to care when they spout off?
And more importantly, does anyone else think that I need to take time out of my day/life to have the enormous (and apparently irritating to everybody else) mole removed from my neck before the wedding?
What do we think? I have to admit that this whole experience has pulled up my old worries about it. I am a little concerned that if this person is staring at my neck and thinking about how I could have my mole removed that everyone is looking at my neck and thinking about my mole. I used to think it looked like a Frankenstein bolt, and I've been having flashbacks to that rather silly image (it's not that big).
So, are you? Staring at my mole, I mean? And should I care?
If anyone out there knows anybody in printing who's hiring, please let me know. Ben recently got laid off.
He's a good worker, and he'll get a good recommendation from his boss, so there's no worries there. The company he was working for just doesn't have enough work right now. He is a pre-press technician, and he's really good with computers, especially Macs. (Boo, Macs, says this PC user!)
Thanks, peeps. I just figure the more people keeping their eyes open, the better. (And I have his permission to share this info.)
Since my world (and my mind) is falling apart and I don't really want to write about it right now, I've decided to write about something that makes me randomly and strangely happy: My spice rack.
When I was younger, I used to love the smell of my mom's spice cupboard. She had a big green turny thing that had to levels so that you could spin it and see all the spices on it (in theory). (It was usually so full that things would fall off of it at random intervals, and then the whole thing would get stuck.) I used to open it just to smell all the flavors mingling together. It was always delightful. I'm not sure I've ever told anyone that before. Maybe Ben.
When I moved into my apartment, one of the things that I loved was that it had spice cupboards built into the wall, and when I opened them, I could still smell the spices--bay leaves, thyme, rosemarry, and other spices all mingling together in a savory aroma. Of course, I didn't know how to cook, so after I moved in, the cupboard was usually full of condensed soup.
But now that I do know how to cook, I have been carefully selecting a spice or two each grocery trip to add to my cupboard. And it smells delightful again. I love opening it and looking in at all the little bottles of ground up flavors as the scents waft out towards me. I love smelling garam masala and basil and rosemarry. I love the way the coriander and the cardamom overwhelm everything else. I love the tiny little bottle of vanilla extract. I love my seasalt grinder and my pepper tin. I love the enormous bottles of cumin and turmeric and Chinese 5 Spice that I got from Target in their Archer Farms spice section (which is the best deal around, especially if you use a lot of something). I think back on all the things I've learned how to make, and I look forward to all the things that we are going to make, and I can't help but feel good inside. The whole thing makes me smile.
What I want to get is the bottle that has a few strands of saffron that I saw in the grocery store the other day, but at 15 bucks or more a pop and with no real use for it, I guess I have to hold off. I once had a lemon saffron chicken dish with dill rice at a Greek restaurant that I loved and would love to try to duplicate. But ah, well, times are tough all over, I guess. You gotta take your smiles where you can get them, even if your meals don't include saffron right now.