The Road goes ever on and on...

What a road it's been, this year.

I apologize to you, if any of you were following this blog previously. Things started to happen, not necessarily things I wanted to share, I was not right with the world and it was not right with me.

Over the past year I found another job, a job I loved again, and again it was taken from me. Laid off, through no fault of my own, along with more than fifteen other people in my department, and more in others. And the industry seems to be doing the same thing, over and over, in several companies. I am at this point highly wary of jobs involving my industry, and looking for other things to do.

Other things to do:

Soapmaking-  We went to the Ypsilanti Heritage Festival over the weekend, as an excuse to drive by our old MI house, and, through the whole arts and crafts setup, there was not one indie soapmaker. I see a niche.

Hand-painted canvas floor-coverings - We've offered on a house here that has hardwood floors. I don't want wool rugs, although those would be nice. They're very expensive and the kids would ruin theirs. Hand-painted canvas is durable and can be beautiful. I just have to learn the technique. And get the space to do it in. An apartment is not conducive.

Painting - I might be crazy, but I keep looking at this gorgeous August summer sky and wanting to paint it. How did I not see that Michigan clouds can be as beautiful as Colorado clouds?

Beading - I hoarded tons of beads when I worked at Michael's Crafts. I even started a necklace of mother of pearl and red coral, that got amazingly heavy, and that I never finished. Time to finish it, and make it a little lighter, damn.

Writing - Well, I've already started that, just now, with the blog, hah. If I have vivid, intense dreams, I try to remember and write them down so I can expand on them later. I have a few story ideas floating around, one I really like and am trying to decide how to approach. What I'm seeing from other writers is: just do it. Even if the writing's crap, do it, you can fix it later. Maybe I'll run my own little NaNoWriMo here in September. NaNoWriMoSept, just get it going.

I used to write, a lot, in high school and college. I think I mentioned that before. Long-hand, in notebooks, in pen. Kind of like George McFly, in Back to the Future. Like George, I didn't want anyone to see it until it was done. Of course, the stories were never done, because I thought they weren't good enough for anyone to read. Shy George McFly and me, living in a mysterious world few others chose to understand in high school.

But shoot, if Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey can get published, maybe I can too. I'm not knocking those authors; it takes a lot of hard work to write a book, any book, and then get it published. But what those authors showed me is that there is a lot of leeway out there for what people like. If I can find a niche, like the soapmaking, maybe I can be happy with what I'm doing, make a little bit of a living, and not get laid off by some nameless faceless corporation looking to put profits over people.

At the moment my craftiness consists of knitting and crocheting. I love to make little flower-shaped washcloths in crochet lately. They go fast, help me learn the basic crochet stitches, and they are useful. Not to mention they help use up the hoard of yarn I've mysteriously accumulated.

I'm also working on a second sock of a pair, Grumperina's Jaywalker socks, in Madelinetosh Sock. I love the zigzag pattern and the first sock at least fits close and stays up.

I got yarn sent to me for my birthday to feed my addiction, some lovely colors and materials I might not have picked for myself but love all the same. Scarf? Cowl? More socks? The possibilities are limited only by my imagination.

And that's basically why I've started writing again. I have to do something, or my brain gets restless and circles on itself and starts saying, "Make, Do, Be....Something, Anything, or why exist at all?" I can't explain it, this need to create, to make something from other things, with my hands and mind. I just want to get on the road, and go, and see where it leads me.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

--Bilbo Baggins, "The Fellowship of the Ring"

Of All Things, Why These?

I could live without potato chips. I have. They're bad for you anyways, all that oil and salt. I could also live without French fries. Those would be a real test, especially if they're fried in really good fat, like beef fat. But I could do it. I enjoy vegetable sides as much or more than fries.

I could live without raisins, or prunes, or wine. I could live without oranges or orange juice. I'm not particularly a citrus fanatic. I can, and have, completely ignored coffee, although I enjoy the smell. I do not need large doses of caffeine to get me going, nor do I want to be addicted to it.

So with all those things I would be fine with were my body to reject them, of course it instead picks things I love eating.

Milk, ice cream, whipped cream. I can no longer consume these items without severe pain, but I do it anyways. Milk with my cookies, ice cream when I find a to-die-for flavor, whipped cream when I damn well want it. Let's face it; the soy, rice and coconut substitutes are okay in a pinch, but they just don't approach the richness of real milk for me. I never curse myself or my choice for my pain. I curse my stomach and intestines.

Vinegar, tomato sauce, acidic foods. These cause as much pain as the dairy, sometimes more if I consume a large amount (salad with spaghetti in marinara anyone?). Malt vinegar on fish and chips was pure heaven. I loved vinegar so much I could almost drink it straight. Not anymore. And no tomato sauce? Please, I was raised on barrels of homemade tomato sauce in my half-Sicilian home. How dare you, Intestines! I swear I'm going to rip you out and replace you.

Spicy food. Salsa, red and green chili,  hot and sour soup, spicy szechuan anything. I love it all, the hotter the better. Damn the torpedoes, I'll still eat it. But now I have to take a stomach acid reducer beforehand just to survive.

Every year something gets crossed off the list. Not something I couldn't care about anyways, it's always something I love. When I complain I'm told "ït's part of getting old". No it isn't, it's part of your body just plain betraying you after years of faithful service. Even though I never drank much caffeine to start with I now cannot have more than half a 12 ounce Coke or Pepsi without problems. But it wasn't something I loved, so it isn't hard to let go of that.

And yes, I know and sympathize with those a lot more unfortunate than I, who have chronic diseases that don't allow them to enjoy foods they loved too. But I don't have a disease (that I or my doctor know of), I didn't start this way.

Is it too much to ask to be able to enjoy a small cone with your kids at the local Dairy Queen? I want my food back, dammit.

Sugar Scrubbed

So of course I couldn't mention it without then having to make it. At 10:30 last night I was whipping up some Brown Sugar Scrub Soap, which used a goat's milk base, some real brown sugar, and some cocoa butter. I also own Brown Sugar fragrance oil, which I generously added to the mix.

I love real cocoa butter because it comes in these creamy-colored chunks that smell like chocolate, and it melts on your skin on contact. Just really luxurious. Of course the low melting point makes it difficult to work with when it is hot out like last night. I had a deal of a time getting it cut and off my fingers into the melting cup.

I like real shea butter too, and it also melts on contact, but it doesn't have that lovely aroma. Still, if you're going to superfat melt and pour soap, you can't go wrong with either of them. You just can't add too much or your soap turns into an oily mess.

You can see flecks of the brown sugar and that's just fine....it's supposed to be scrubby and silky. And it smells warm and caramel-like and sugary, almost good enough to eat. In fact it's a touch too sweet and next time I may tone it down with something. But for now I'm going to test run it tonight in the shower and see if I can get my husband to complain that I smell like "spilled ice cream" (he doesn't like sweet food-scented candles and protests when I buy them that they smell like spilled ice cream, way too sweet).

Hey, I'll take "spilled ice cream" smell over "sweated all day in the hot sun driving my car with the broken A/C" smell any day. Must be a girl thing.

Bursting Bubbles

Yes, I am still writing for my blog. Heat and a general unsettled-ness over the past few weeks left me unwilling to put my then-thoughts down....it really would not have been good reading material. Self-recrimination, unhappiness, and occasionally despair might make for a decent movie if you throw in some CGI, car chases and an arc with Important Life Lessons, but in everyday life it's just grindingly boring.

I credit my eight year old for pulling me out of my inertia, at least temporarily, and reigniting the urge to create in me. It has made me dig out old books and supplies, surf the internet looking for classes, and consider how best to handle hazardous materials in the presence of children and animals. Just seeing the excitement on his face was worth it. Soapmaking, I forgot how much I like it.

From my (embarrassingly large) store of scents, he chose coconut, to match his commercial shampoo. He then considered the supplies before him and chose the shea butter base. Then he was allowed to observe as I cut the base into pieces, melted them in the microwave, added the scent (I added a few drops of Butter Vanilla with the Coconut for some nice sweetness and depth), and poured it into the molds. I had enough for my elder son to have some, since he wandered into the kitchen last minute and begged for some soap too.

When the soaps popped out of the molds a couple of hours later, his whole face lit up. "Can I take a bath NOW, Mom?"

Yes, yes you may. Have at it, and enjoy. He had so much fun he lathered himself three times. Afterwards he came bouncing down the stairs and asked me if he smelled of coconut. Of course he did, which delighted him.

Yesterday he asked me for Strawberry scented soap, since strawberries are his favorite fruit.

This time he selected the Goat's Milk base for some creamy luxuriant lather. This kid is all about luxury. So of course I added powdered goat's milk in bubble-inducing glycerin, a few drops of red colorant, and a dash of exciting sparkle powder (you can just barely see it in the pic) to wrap it all up. The strawberry scent I kept single-note, for juiciness.

Another hit, another bath. Three latherings. I've never heard of a kid who loves bathing so much. The bathroom smells like coconuts and strawberries.

I'm wondering what will happen when I make my brown sugar scrub soap again.

I Did This

I grew this.

In my garden. And there is another on the way. I am also nursing along a single bell pepper, which is looking good but growing slowly. The tomatoes have been given up for dead; after the plant repeatedly struggled to grow any larger from the day I purchased it, it finally decided this whole corner-of-the-garden-bed thing was not working out and gave up the ghost. I generously watered and fertilized it, and there was no indication of insects or disease, so I can only conclude that the soil in my garden bed is death on tomatoes and plow in some peat moss for next year.

Tonight I did the shopping and cooking for dinner, and conquered fish. Spicy cornmeal breaded cod with a tortellini and broccoli salad in balsamic vinaigrette. The 500 degree oven was tough to endure in 90 degree weather, but since the fish only had to bake for 12 minutes, I toughed it out. It was worth it. Even my super picky eldest son gobbled down two pieces, although the salad was a pass after the shock of the vinegar. Odd that he can eat a whole bag of salt and vinegar chips and make his mouth numb, but the sweeter taste of balsamic made his face pucker up like a prune.

It's a small thing, but I love cooking and making good food, and growing food in my garden. I have done this. I have fed my family. I can.

This helps ease the upset of still not having a job after four months looking, pursuing, and interviewing. I can do anything I need to with skill and confidence.

And if I'm still in my house next spring, I WILL be growing tomatoes.

I Want a Hammer Like That One

It's been incredibly hot here for the last few days, but unlike last week it hasn't rained each night to mitigate the swelter. With our swamp cooler broken we've been living with just fans, which makes our upper floor bedrooms just barely tolerable for the night. It's nice and cool just before dawn, but then the sun comes up and starts the scorch cycle all over again.

Imagine my delight when I saw a few flashes of lightning  as I was going to pick up the kids from day camp yesterday afternoon. By the time we got home, the wind was picking up and some big drops were falling. This rain turned out to be far from torrential, but it brought some blessedly cool air and a nice breeze for awhile.

While the storm was relatively small and fast-moving, it was noisy. It wanted everyone to know it was passing through. I managed to catch some video of the lovely light-play, but the blog servers don't want to let me upload it, boo.  If I can get it to work I'll post it here, but for now the noise and light show is stuck on my camera for only me to enjoy.

Thor was definitely happy though, and wanted us to know it. Thanks for the breeze Thor!

Edit: Here's the video. Enjoy!

Back to the Future Again

So in the last week, we've shown the kids Back to the Future parts two and three. They had already seen the first one a couple months or so ago.

Of course they loved them both, although the third received a more enthusiastic response than the second, likely because it was less confusing. I'd have to agree on that score. For me, the best parts were one and three. Two was essential to set up the situation for the third part, but it seemed somewhat hastily done, and there were so many twists and "here's a scene from part one but from a different angle" that the story quickly got lost in the shuffle. The story was not as strong as the other two to begin with, and all the camera trickery muddled it further.

That being cleared up, it's a tough choice between one and three for me. Part one is a classic and paved the way, with many iconic scenes such as Marty being blown off his feet by the giant amplifier Doc made for him, the DeLorean leaving twin trails of fire as it sped into the past, and Doc's cries of "Great Scott!" at every twist and turn.

Part three was a funny homage to spaghetti westerns and just plain visually entertaining in the sets and costumes. I loved the fact that Doc built a huge contraption in the blacksmith's shop that turned out to be a refrigerator that made one ice cube at a time. The idea of pushing the deLorean with a steam engine was brilliant, and turning the engine into a time machine? The sheer beauty and genius of it at the end of the movie was the perfect final piece to the puzzle. I even wonder if the current Steampunk craze might not have started by us young adults of the time oohing and aahing over Doc's crazy inventions, and that final scene of a tricked-out locomotive sparkling all over with lightning as it zapped off to some unknown past. It certainly inspired me to read more Jules Verne.

It did not escape me that the fuel for the time circuits for the time machine went from plutonium (stolen from Libyan terrorists) to a garbage-fueled fusion reactor, back to one of the simplest forms of energy, steam. The internal combustion engine for the deLorean time machine always ran on gas, although by the time Doc converted the locomotive, it ran solely on steam. Complications reduced to simple elegance. If all we're trying to do is create steam or heat anyways, why not keep it simple? It was a subtle but wonderful thing to put in the movies, I think. Perhaps a dream for the future.

At this point I don't expect my kids to be too attentive to the underlying message, but I hope in some subliminal, impressionable part of their brain it sticks. The idea that you can take control, and change your outcome, at any point in your life. Too many times I've thought myself stuck until I ignored the whispers of the past and took that leap.

As Doc said, your future isn't yet written. It doesn't have to be so tangled up with the past. Choose the best one you can, and write it for yourself.