hot process soap

I posted awhile ago about making soap with my lovely friend Annie, and I thought I should update everyone with the revolutionary new discovery we've made (which the rest of the soap-making world probably knew about long ago). Rather than stirring forever and doing everything at carefully-regulated cool temperatures, you can actually cook your lye and oil (soap) as you're making it, which finishes up the process much more quickly. Speed isn't always the goal, as it is very relaxing and ritualistic to take turns stirring for several hours, but when you just want some nice soap quickly, this seems to be the way to go. The lye and oil are mixed in a slow cooker (you can also do it in a roasting pan in the oven but we haven't tried that) with a stick blender, and then you literally cook it for about an hour. Without expounding too much, and to sum things up, we can now make a batch of soap in a couple of hours which is ready to use in a couple more hours, after it's cooled. We made some last night during a fabulous visit, and split the batch in half for scents / additions. I made beeswax and honey with oatmeal, and Annie made Mayan Gold with something in it. We both think hers stinks, and the jury's still out on mine - I think after it's dried a bit more, it might be quite lovely.

For you, Jen!

After that gloomy post, I thought I should come up with something a little perkier. Since it's Friday, how about some jokes? These from ajokeaday.com made me giggle.

- Hey buddy. How late does the band play?
About half a beat behind the drummer.

- A man walks into a pub, and approaches the bar. He orders a pint and looks down to see a bowl of peanuts on the counter. He decides to eat one. When he picks it up and goes to put it in his mouth the peanut says "Hello, handsome!" So he puts the peanut down in astonishment.
He decides to try one more time. And yet again the peanut talks: "Ooh, you are gorgeous." Well, as you can imagine, he was really stunned.
He then decides to go over to buy some cigarettes from the dispenser. He drops in a pound and the machine spits it out and tells him to "Go away, ugly!" This really shocked the man so he goes up to the barman and says "Why is it, that when I pick up the peanuts from the bar they are really nice to me, yet when I try to get some cigarettes from the machine it tells me I'm ugly?"
"Ah, well..." the barman replies, "The peanuts are complimentary and the cigarette machine is out of order."

nightmare

I'm driving up the cemetery section of Forest street, on my way to see a student. It's a cloudy day, mid-afternoon. I slow down as I see a red Corsica pulling straight out of a driveway on the right side of the road. It's the driveway to the shooting range. The Corsica stops and the driver puts it in park. It is blocking the road entirely. I stop, and wait for the driver to move. He is a middle aged man with a swath of dark brown hair falling over his forehead. His window is rolled down, and his left arm is dangling out of it, and in his hand is a revolver. I start to get worried, and reach for my phone. The man's face is red, and ugly as he contorts his face to keep from crying. He has really thick, cartoon-like lips. I cannot stop looking at him. He lifts the revolver to his jaw and pulls the trigger. His head lolls forward onto his chest. I put my car in reverse and back into a driveway as I dial the police. I look up and see that the man has pulled his car into a driveway across the street, and is aiming the gun at me. I crouch down behind the steering wheel. He shoots, and the bullet goes through the wheel well and into my left thigh.

I am at my back door. I run into the house, searching frantically for the phone. I find it, and dial the police. As I'm holding the phone, I see that Buddy, a friend's cat, has walked into the kitchen. This means that the man is in the house. I panic.

I wake up, heart pounding and terrified. This is the first time this has ever happened to me. Adam is sleeping soundly. I put my arm around him and say "I had a bad dream." All I want is for him to hug me. He mumbles something like "I'm sorry you had a bad dream," and is almost immediately back to sleep. But not before he holds my hand.

the last word

Something which I find hilariously funny happened to me again today. I was buying a couple of new pens.

Me (picking up my bag): "Thanks very much,"
Sales associate: "You're welcome,"
Me (walking away): "Have a good day,"
S.A.: "You, too,"
Me: "Thanks, see ya,"
S.A. (as I'm across the store and almost out the door, she's leaning over the counter): "Bye!"

She's one of the 'must have the last word' people who absolutely have to say the last word, and interject extra "Bye"s at the end just to make their point.

It seems like a ridiculously long-winded farewell to share with someone you don't even know. To what lengths will I go to be polite? I want these people to know that I see them as real people, not just robots there to do my bidding, which is why I try to make a point to be polite. Which leads to me trying to get the last word, which draws out these au revoirs to a ridiculous length. Perhaps the real problem is that I'm a must-have-the-last-word-er and it's when I run into another one of my kind that things get really long. Either way, it's funny.