I had all these grand plans of getting the soapsite done and maybe re/connecting with some friends, or curling up with a ginormous stack of movies I've got here, but what am I doing?
Dancing pantsless to Erasure and singing along so loud I'm scaring the dogs. And picking up the house in the process. But for the most part, just dancing and singing and generally being a caffeine-crazed lunatic.
In other words, a typical Saturday.
Ahem.
(actually, it looks enough like me to feel like me, but different enough that I'm not going to get recognized in the knitting shop. And yes, it's happened.)
Hey, why not?
me-huh
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
Wow.
Um, so.
I took this daily photo thing for the 365 that i'm adamantly not doing, even though it's making me understand a little more about how little I know about the camera, and when i pulled it up in photoshop, I hit *something*. Some action, some button, some setting, and VO-AH-LAH.
Damn. If I only looked as good in life as I do in my photoshopped pictures, life would be *good*.
considering plastic surgery, like nowish.
Please get your ducks.
Now put them in a row.
Thank you.
love,
you.
Think I'm taking a few days to get back on top of some stuffs.
My desk's a mess. And if there's one thing I know about me, it's that the messier my desk, the messier my brain. When I can't see desktop, I'm a hair's-breadth from Teh Crazee, and right now, I can't see desktop *or* either of the sidetables. This, to me, says Disaster Waiting To Happen.
(It's not helping that it's 93 degrees right now inside. Ninety. Three. What part of delicate rainforest flower does the husbeast NOT GET? Need to get the AC fixed up here or I'm going to die by August. Second floor, all-metal house, flat roof. It's a fucking *oven*, not a house.)
Oooh, I'm cranky.
And allow me just to say that, while it's making me feel nicely warm, it tastes like crap with coffee. I have answered my own eternal question.
And I kind of smell like a barroom floor.
Yum.
My whole life's been like that for the past few weeks. That little gnawing ache that I couldn't put a finger on? Got it.
Speaking of food, albeit in a purely literal sense this time, I GREW FOOD. Picked the first two tomatoes off my vines today. They're small and cute and MINE. I made them out of DIRT. It's so incredibly cool.
I'm out of lye for the time being -- thought I had another container, but it was actually my shea butter, so I had a panicked order for 80 pounds of the stuff on Saturday night. No soap for a few days, but it's giving me time to develop really freakin' cool scents...like a mix of pear and vanilla and green and woodsy that's smelling a lot like a sweet day in a mountain cabin. Or the leather and tobacco leaf and bourbon and a little something extra that isn't nearly as masculine as it sounds.
There's always something to do in downtime.
At least I'm not hungry, now that I found out what the ache was all about.
harem-sinflower layingflat
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
Today's out-of-the-soap-mold eye-candy.
A shot of all the Harem/Sinflower soaps in a row on the drying rack before setting up a group shot for them.
Silk and cashmere in the base, along with cocoa butter and rich coconut. Swirls of dark chocolate to add a little decadence.
Sinflower (also known as D's Harem) is a blend of lusty summer flowers in bloom, a spike of Hawaiian Gingerflower for an exotic touch, some sugar, some spice, and a light swirl of citrus at the top to make it appear more innocent than it is.
Innocent, my left foot.
farmgirl soap - full side
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
Today's eye-candy. :)
Just cut -- Farmgirl soap. :)
It's a little less OOF RED! than this looks (I'm still not so great at getting reds to show without glowing like neon with this camera), but still vibrant and OMG smells good.
Farmgirl, the scent, is all embroidered cotton aprons in the sunshine, mossy and fertile earth and a bit of sawdust for the chickens. Off in the distance, the tomatoes are ripening, the freshly-mown hay is drying, and a cherry pie is cooling on the windowsill.
It's *good*.
omfgzomb1ez - skin
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
Fresh outta the cutter, OMFGZOMB1EZ! soap, ready for the curing racks.
Smells like the deep earth of an old-growth forest, a little green moss, and a smattering of sugared brainmeats.
Tried to capture zombie-skin and dripping blood.
Because i really *am* kind of a sicko. :)
Dear god.
Robert Plant is, like, eight MILLION YEARS OLD....
and I would *still* do unspeakable things to him.
Apparently, that deal Page had with the devil is still in effect. Wow.
::fans self::
brainbleach-closeup
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
More soap. Because, you know, I'm obsessed with oil and lye.
This is my new favorite. No, seriously.
Silk and cocoa butter base. Marbled with cocoa-colored swirls. Smells a little green, a little fresh, a little herbal, a little sweet, with a waving of citrus over the top.
Perfect thing with which to clear your head of unwanted thoughts. Thoughts like *monday*.
aaron douglas geek moment
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
I just realized I *totally* forgot to scan this when it came in. (It arrived the day before the appendix blew, so let's just say....I had other priorities. Such as not dying. Little things. :>)
Like I was telling Elemacilvictor, I think sometimes people think we just make shit up on the podcast, but WE DON'T HAVE TO. I am a bona fide WEIRD STUFF MAGNET.
:)
(p.s. Girls? He's single. Want me to put in a good word? :>)
I may seriously build a shrine to her and worship there twice a day. Whew.
My Do-Over Birthday day (today) is already going better than yesterday. And it's only getting better. Friend on the way with daughter in tow, and I'm about to have cake for breakfast. :)
Yeah. Still there. In a different place -- I *did* remove the last one. The one that was in the main template with an iFrame? Yeah, that one...I squashed that one, but good.
However, the one in my freakin' footer template? Still there. Still mean.
Still *active*.
It's gone now AGAIN. But it's taken me a good hour to dig through and find it, and god knows how many people it got first.
(This is AFTER reinstalling the newest version, updating ALL of the templates, adding in ALL the extra security measures, changing every blessed password on the planet, running virus scans and sitescanners, and everything short of dancing around a bonfire nekkid with Medicine Man herbs set ablaze in each hand. Seriously.)
I'm about TWO FREAKIN' SECONDS from taking down the whole thing and starting over with a new account. I don't know WHERE this is coming from or how to stop it. Was it there the entire time and I just missed it on the first go-round, or what? ARGH.)
So, the standard warning applies -- if you've been to the blog, run a scan. It's not affecting everyone this time, luckily, but if you clicked just the right page, you very well might have infected yourself. And clear your cache before visiting again, or you run the risk of accidentally running the script on the cached page.
I really, really hate this. It makes my head hurt.
Happy birthday...here's a virus. GRRRR.
That said, I should be in bed right now. I really should. Fruit flies that don't get enough sleep don't have sex, or so says Dateline NBC, and OMG that would SUCK, right? Ahem.
Anyway...
Every year, on my birthday, first thing of the day -- I do a little exercise that I termed the Life Vision. I sit down with my open journal and draw or write or paste in stuff that represents what I want for the next year. It's like direction for my relatively scattered brain -- I can go back and read the descriptions of years previous, and while there's always things that didn't get done or turned out completely differently, there are almost always big synchronicities between what I wanted on June 27th of the year before. I usually meet or exceed what it was I thought I wanted.
(Prime example: last year, there was a whole lot of Seattle in my pages. A whole lot. What I wanted it for, though, was the sense of community, the closeness to friends and loved ones, the ability to get outside, and the mountains. Granted, I'm still in the flatlands, so mountains were right out. But in the past year, I've reconnected to a lot of old friends, and made connections with new ones that I absolutely adore and couldn't live without. I have that sense of creative community and a little bit more peace with Out Here, and I've been letterboxing again. So, really, while the LETTER of the thing didn't get done, the SPIRIT of it DID.* It's that kind of thing.)
This year, thanks to the events of the last days, which have been exciting and dizzying, I'm sitting here with an open journal, a glue-stick, a pen...and nothing.
Not. A. Thing.
I don't know what it's even safe to want yet. It's like I'm standing in a train station with an open ticket and the ability to do anything, go anywhere, and I don't know which train to get on.
God/the Universe/InsertDeityOfChoice here is supposed to never give us more than we can handle.
What if we don't dare allow ourselves to Want?
Blank pages.
Welcome to 37.
*p.s. I still want mountains and rain. I do know that much.
upcoming - dirty jack
Originally uploaded by missviolet.
Close-up of Dirty Jack, who has a base of silk and cocoa (both plain brown cocoa and cocoa butter), and smells like a blend of chocolate, salt air, wooden planks and rum, with just a whiff of men's cologne and key lime.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I love him. Love. Would throw over my mom for a bar. Seriously.
Guess who just got quarter-sized hail and lost part of her garden?
Yeah, that'd be me.
ARGH.
Opened the door to let the dogs out, though, and three frogs jumped in. I put them in the tomatoes. And now I'm hoping they didn't get beaned by hail. Poor frogs.
Just cut into some "Dirty Jack" soap. Unisex and mellow, made with silk and cocoa. Dark dark brown with swirls of pinkyred.
I (heart) soap. Actually, I kind of (heart) everything today. Just sayin'.
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
entropicon , because apparently, I'm totally a Reader Of The Classics. (Not that you could tell such things from the bedroom nightstand. It's all knitting and housewifery books lately. And books on Quakers. Go figure.)( This way to find out (and venerate) how smart this makes me look: )
It's been 20 hours now.
That last macchiato killed me, I think. But episode #60 is recorded and sent off to be processed, and a batch of Dirty Jack soap is curing, and some of the most important emails have been answered.
All in all, not a bad 202024 hours.
(I'll be singing that thing all night in my head now. I did it to myself; self-infection of the earworms. *sigh*)
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