In my never-ending quest to be the strangest person at my office, I recently decided that it would be a good idea to start woodcarving at work. Not at my desk, mind you. I’m not that weird. But I did quickly rough out a spoon blank in my shop last night and stuck it in my backpack along with a couple of knives to take to work this morning. During my lunch break, I sat by the pond behind the office, pulled out my sandwich and wood and knives, and started whittling away.
I sent these two termites heading for higher ground. I almost felt bad for interrupting their lunch while I was so thoroughly enjoying my own. Something seemed appropriate about carving an eating spoon out of something else’s dinner, though.
I’ve noticed something strange about my attitude towards spoons since I started carving my own. In the break room at my office, there’s usually a whole mug full of metal spoons from who knows where. Most of them are just cheap stamped metal, like what you got in your middle school cafeteria. They’re the same thickness throughout, and none of the edges are sharp, but neither are they rounded over. I hate those spoons. I never used to care. A couple of the spoons look like strays from someone’s fine flatware set. They’re nicely contoured, the necks are delicate, and there are no harsh edges where your mouth goes.These are the spoons I prefer to use, but usually someone else has already snagged them by the time I’m ready for my morning bowl of oatmeal.
Well, no more will I be left with the dregs. I’m keeping my own spoon from now on. Termite holes and all.