Skip to main content

wotd: sachet

sachet \sa-SHEY\, noun:
1. A small bag, case, or pad containing perfuming powder or the like, placed among handkerchiefs, etc., to impart a pleasant scent.
2. Also, sachet powder, the powder contained in such a case.

Last Saturday I took the Federal Census Bureau Test for Field Employee Positions. The test was scheduled to be given at Foothills Lutheran Church, near my home. When I phoned for details I was instructed to bring my drivers' liscense and social security card, as I would be filling out an application for Federal employment and the representative there would be authorizing my identification.

Early Saturday afternoon I began the search for my social security card. I thought I'd find it in one of two places, but when neither location held it I started feeling nervous. So I started opening boxes of memorabilia and flipping through files I haven't opened in years. After two hours of fruitless searching I left for the test armed with my license and birth certificate because I couldn't find my social security card.

Now I'm not girly-girl in any way. I tromped up the stairs to that test dressed in green cords, a long sleeved T-shirt, and sneaks. Other women arrived for the test dressed in what I assumed is also their day-to-day wear: spangly top, tight capri jeans, strappy silver wedge sandles. Like I said, I'm not girly-girl, but I know what a sachet is. I've received a few as gifts, which have ended up scenting the garbage can rather than my underwear drawer.

But then I remembered a sachet I received long ago... long, long, ago, from one of the only people whose gifts I tend to keep, especially her handmade ones. I thought I'd find it in one of two places. I commenced the search in my underwear and sock drawer. Pawing through matched and orphaned socks tumbled with ancient elastic-shot panties yielded nothing. So I dumped the entire contents of that drawer on the bedroom floor.

Guess what I found.

Yup. My social security card, safe and sound inside the large rigid envelope holding my BA and official college transcripts. I must have put them there after applying for my job at the preschool, or submitting to the background check for my fingerprint clearance.

Guess what else I found.

This little sachet made for me by my sister Mandy some untold years ago. I've kept it through my move to college dorm, bachelorette pad, first apartment with Dave, first rented home with Dave, first purchased home with Dave, second purchased home with Dave. It's been there amongst my socks and unmentionables all this time, still emitting the spicy scent of cloves. I love thinking of Mandy making this; raiding the spice rack for something that smelled good, the fabric stash for a pretty little flowered remnant, the yarn stash for a bit of wool with which to tie it. It's a gift from the heart, and I'll always keep it there.

And while I was searching for my social security card on Saturday, I unearthed other Mandy memorabilia: most notably the lyrics for a song called "They're Gonna Come Shoot Ya" and a dot-matrix screenplay for a little something called Social Security Check by Steven Spielsberg. I'm hoping to find a way to weave them into future wotd entries.


Popular posts from this blog

expanding my culinary horizons

After last night's culinary debacle, today's culinary surprise was particularly welcome. My dear friend Rukmi brought me lunch! Rukmi is Sri Lankan. She cooks the best food. I ate a fish and egg croquette, lentil curry, saffron rice, all with delicious chicken and what I thought might be tuna. I asked Rukmi what the meat was, and she told me it's all chicken. "The flat, triangular meat? With the spices? Is it tuna?"

She laughed lightly. "That's a wegetable," she said, in her lovely Sinhalese way.

"Oh, yeah? Like a beet?" That made sense, because it flaked like tuna steak or like beets might.

"It is jackfruit."

Jackfruit? Jackfruit! I ate jackfruit today. Rukmi told me all about it: she used canned young jackfruit she bought at G & L Market on 22nd St.; fully grown jackfruits are gigantic and if one fell on your head it could kill you. When fully ripe, jackfruit is full of big pods that each have a seed in the middle, like a po…
Jack doesn't have many "activities." I don't relish the thought of driving him to soccer, piano lessons, gymnastics, tae kwon do, KidzArt, swim team, T-ball, so on, and so forth. Not to say that I don't recognize the value of these activities, but I witness firsthand the toll a full schedule takes on little ones. On Monday nights Jack and his cousin participate in Young Champions of America Karate, which is more about learning discipline, respect, and self defense than it is about martial arts.

Recently we've picked up a new activity, which is also about learning discipline, respect, and creativity: Tucson Lego Club.

He was invited to join by Nathan and Lucas, friends from church who also attended the preschool a few years ahead of Jack. Here he sits between them, at a table surrounded by 6 other boys, each of them building a lavish Lego creation.

Members spend an hour building and fraternizing, sometimes more fraternizing than building, but at the end of the h…


Six days ago I griped a bit about exercise and body image and resolved to walk more and eat better food. Since then I've walked 22 miles, which is 10 more miles than I usually log in the same amount of time. Though I haven't been a food angel, I haven't been a little devil, either. I've resisted chips and Cheetos and eaten more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. I did have a Dairy Queen, though, which is totally fake but totally tasty.

So I got some goals for this week. There's just one week left before I go back to the preschool and I'm ashamed that I haven't attended to some things over the summer. I'd meant to finish up my NAEYC classroom portfolio, as well as plan out afternoon activities for the year (I'm lead teacher between 1:00 and 3:00 for all ages other than kindergarten).

Goal 1: I'm 20 criteria away from completing my classroom portfolio. If I do four each day, I'll be done on Friday.

Goal 2: Each day this week, I'll plan one…