This past weekend was one of high highs and low lows. On Saturday, when I stopped to innocently order a footlong roasted chicken Subway sub when, after an admittedly awkward ordering interaction, the long Subway employee apologized for being rude. “I didn’t know how to respond to you,” she offered. “I’ve never met anyone who sounds like you before.” I asked her how I sounded. “That weird accent,” was her explanation. I had no response. The corresponding high? On Sunday around noon, walking from Pack Square to Nani’s Piri Piri Chicken (I highly recommend the chicken burger), a gentleman stumbling down College St. looked me in the eye and told me I was sexy. Does it matter that he was clutching a forty and ostensibly drunk? No, I’ll take it.
Saturday night, I attended a BYOB, “Asheville Candle Making Experience,” at the Hummingbird Candle Company on lower Lexington. The high? Really, the entire candle-making experience. I went into this at the behest of a friend and wasn’t sure what to expect, I just knew it wasn’t necessarily something I’d choose myself (often the best experience).
The class cost $40.00 and included instruction, the material to make one 9-ounce scented candle that will burn for 80 hours, and the opportunity to sample all 23 of Humming Bird Candle Company’s signature scents, which I found delightful—I’ve become a big candle guy over the past year, though my leading purveyor is the TJ Maxx clearance bin. My favorite aspect was that it was a blind smell sample. When you did the smelling, the scents were simply numbered, and you were provided with paper to take notes. Our instructor Taylor (who was great, by the way—experiences like this hinge on the instructor, in my ever-so-humble opinion), explained how we tend to pick scents via the name or description, not necessarily what our noses are naturally drawn to, although the scent I picked was grapefruit forward, which tracks for my tastes.
The low? Taylor asked us to write an “intention” on the wooden wick of our candle so we had something intentional to think about while it burned. I’m my father’s Irish Catholic son, which means talking about feelings isn’t something that comes naturally to me. Burying them down deep inside and unpacking them years later with a paid therapist is more my speed. So, I wrote “Get Lit,” again using the excuse that I thought it was funny/was half a bottle of Addison Farm’s wine deep, instead of just admitting that I use humor as a defense mechanism! Anyway, then Taylor asked everyone to share their intention, and that’s when I realized I was the lone yahoo who didn’t take things seriously and felt like a real jackass. That all being said, I’m confident I’m the only one whose intention came true that night.
I’d go back to a Hummingbird Candle-making class again and will be bookmarking it for the next time my mother visits. Unlike my father and I, she has many feelings she’s unafraid to share.
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