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writings
my essay on Bast, thoughts on aromatherapy, what this page is about, reviews of stuff, and an old archive of Vents images my art page, photos from Wag 2000, and the daily image of the day for the day cast I really ought to do this, eh? misc contact information, and maybe even banners someday
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It is extremely cold in the "basement" of my house, making typing a little hard cuz my fingers are frigid. And so are my toes. Despite the socks and afghan I'm wrapped up in. One day back to work, and then I'm off again tomorrow. And tonight we're going to a party at David's. I want a drink and a warm place by the fire. And some more sleep. Yawn. Hard to believe we're on the cusp of a new year; and just shy of halfway through my religious calendar, to boot. So much to do. Isn't there always? Giving thanks. I give thanks to.... My mother, Carol Cass, and my stepfather, Mark Cass, who flew me to California and continue to be wonderful and supportive. My father and my stepmother, who lavished gifts on me and made time to see me. My grandmother, Mima, who cooked a lot and kept everyone on their toes. My sister, who also cooked a lot, and her husband, who helped her cook a lot. My oldest sister, who dyed my hair and trusted me to look after her kid for a couple nights. My brother, who got me a gift even though he wasn't supposed to. My aunt and uncle, who showed my parents a great time and picked up the tab for breakfast. My uncle Carl and aunt Sarah, who I really wish I could talk to more often. My cousin and his girlfriend, who appeared Christmas day for conversation and food. My roommates, who put up with me and managed to surprise me with their gift-giving. Melissa, for being my first local female friend. Bubba, for being a loveable bastard. Skippy, for introducing me to Discworld. Andy, for solving my problems. Johnny, for guy-talk and pugs. Mike, for reminding me of my brother from time to time. Beth, for moo. And all the others -- Cwiss, Liz, Mike N., Jim, Russ, Greg, Bryan, C4, Eric W., Eric Slick, Tracy, and Elonka. And my boss, of course, who in a very direct way made sure I was able to buy nice gifts for people (and a new computer). And Annie, who did some really great gift-buying this year. My extended family. Hemet, who helps me become. Revs. Schaefer and Schaefer, who always let me sleep on their couch and never mind when I drink all their soda. Rev. Nakht, who sports the righteous tunes. Neferu, Kheni, Ikhet, Meres, and Niankh, whose honesty and willingness to help by and large leaves me speechless. Wosret, Sai, Hesyt, Iryt, Beni, Shemem, and all the other children of Bast I'm forgetting. Jody, whose conversation is always welcome. And all the Shemsu and Remetj, all the wonderful people whose word for god is "Netjer". My other extended family, my rare friends who aren't actually working for my office or in my church. :) You know who you are -- Audrey, Susan, Suz, Bruce, Corey, Gryph, Bear, Christina, Ron. The people who read this blog. Hello there! Finally, I give thanks to those who have gone before. Papo Carl, Papo Phil, Virginia, Mimi, Red, Aurelia, Elma, Frieda, Edna, Julius, Oscar, and Dorothy, and all my other ancestors whose names I may have mislaid. I do not forget you, do not forget me. And anyone I've forgotten, it wasn't on purpose. Honest. It's just that so many good things have happened to me this year, I realize I'm probably overlooking a few. I should start keeping track of them or something. Hey! I know! A web journ...oh. Yeah. Dua Netjer! Thank you! I hope this year will be even better between you and me. >> 8:57:16 PM I'm back! I live! I'm tired! I'm going to bed! And dammit, I swear I'm going to get back at certain individuals who got me simply marvelous gifts. Gifts that left me quite literally speechless. You all are in for it! The soap ninjas will strike when you least expect it!! Thank you. :) Oh, and Rodney Yee is dishy. That man is a reason to do morning yoga. Hrrrrr. >> 1:06:54 AM
Shameful! Ini right now is probably gritting her teeth and yelling, "Will you just pipe down and go write some more or something?" at her monitor as she reads this, so I think I shall do just that. Scandalous! >> 1:33:58 AM Tonight's frenetic blogging brought to you by "family going to bed earlier than normal thus leaving their daughter to her own devices" and, of course, the word "frenetic". Book wordcount is now at 18,000. Most publishers consider novels starting at around 80,000 - 100,000 words. This means I'm almost to the quarter-mark point (one-fifth if you go by the 100k standard). Which is exactly where I wish to be, as the book is basically divided into four parts (being here, going there, getting to there, getting back). Exciting, isn't it? I've dropped chapter titles. Maybe again someday, but they felt really forced for this one. So -- nah. Heck, I've been reading books lately where the author's even dropped chapters. Guards! Guards! had no chapters. Breaks for POV switches and time advancement, yes, but no chapters (unless I'm daft). This one seems chapterish, though. Chapters give me a goal. Must say this within seven pages. I could probably do a chapterless book someday, but I'm comfortable with chapters for now, so dang Terry Pratchett and his meddling with the Natural Scheme of Things anyway. If I'm lucky, I'll put an axe into chapter seven and chapter eight before I head home. That'll take it to the first milestone, and then I get to sit back and hate everything I've written. But this time, I promise to finish the bastard. No, really. And I'm off! >> 1:31:35 AM Fun Word of the Day! A vinaigrette is not only something you put on your salad, it's also a small perfume box that was used as early as the 1700s to keep you from fainting when your unwashed European neighbors got A Little Too Ripe. Ah, the things you learn watching Antique Roadshow UK. >> 12:32:57 AM
Excepting the Beach Boys Christmas album. I know. Shameful. >> 11:17:34 PM My hair has been dyed down to a dark wine brown, part of my Christmas gift from my stylist sister Jennifer. Oh, don't worry. You'll love it. I saw Lord of the Rings again with the menfolk (Phil, Mark, my brother-in-law). Mmmm. Legolas. I got lots of cool stuff. Jeff and Dave, if you're reading this: New pots and pans, baby. And Ai and Shane, if you're reading this, konichi-wa! (Sorry for my bad Japanese.) >> 11:09:24 PM
Well, anyway. I finished chapter five, am in a bit of a muddle. Laying all this background feels like I'm whipping out lots of words without actually furthering the story. My stories always seem to be that way. But then people complain if I just drop them in on the action. Or maybe I just need different first readers. But then I do have a little bit of a thing going with both sides not trusting the other so...maybe there's something there. Next goal of the characters is to kill off some of them, which I'm told I'm very good at, but damned if I can figure out a way to do so effectively at the moment. I am trying VERY HARD to live up to the Stephen Brust Law of Not Telling the Story to Others until it's finished, and believe you and me that's not easy on my wagging fingers. Grrrr. We sat and talked about the family this evening, and I drank too much wine. My frenched green beans with almond-shallot sauce went off well with the health nuts in my family (read: nearly all of them), but the homemade pasta I made was regrettably too thick (but we ate it anyway, and no one got sick that I know of). My mother's blanquette with filet mignon, however, was out-of-sight, a la Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney. Tomorrow (today, really) there will be much ripping of paper and revealing of gifts. I'm honestly curious as to what Mom and Mark got me. There have been hints of cookery items, but we shall see shortly. Now if only I could fall asleep.... >> 2:16:25 AM
My youngest nephew is learning to talk -- he says "uuh uuh uuh" and "awa awa awa", now. My sister and brother-in-law insists he's said "mama", "dada", and "light", but we have yet to see evidence of this part of his vocabulary. I finished reading Guards! Guards!, which I enjoyed. Still haven't read a Discworld book that tops Mort, but I also still haven't read a bad Discworld book, either. And that is all I can say because they're wondering where I've nipped off to, now. I have the amazing capacity for fading away and finding computer time, but they usually figure out I've turned up missing after twenty minutes have elapsed. So -- g'bye for now. :) >> 7:17:48 PM
It is done. I have achieved fruitcake. It's so good, Dave (a naysayer of fruitcake) willingly took a hunk off my hands. It weighs about fifty pounds. You can just taste the rum. It's great. Um, really, nothing much to say. I am so, so, so looking forward to another playing of Lord of the Rings. Mmmm. Strider. Mmmm. Legolas. And -- hurray! I bought some last minute gifts off sneaky people's wishlists, and sent a sneakier gift off to a friend who bought something off my wishlist, but didn't set one up for herself. Mwa. Ha. Ha ha ha. I can't believe I left Hogfather at home. :P I'm a ninny. And I so wanted to see how Death-as-the-Santa-Claus-Figure-of-the-Discworld-(AKA-the-Hogfather) turned out. Ho. Ho. Ho. Time to catch my plane. See ya when I see ya. >> 5:28:49 PM
Yes, very satisfying indeed. >> 5:14:56 PM Next time you see it, Gryph, make sure to whisper to Bear at the part where Elrond is introducing himself: "Mr....Bagginsss." And for added effect, you could also add in your best Keanu impersonation: "The name...is Frodo!" But that's up to you. >> 2:08:25 PM Whatever you're doing, I command you to stop doing it and go see the Lord of the Rings movie! Oh, it rocked so hard. So very, very, very good. It does not disappoint. Am looking forward to my next viewing with my stepdad. >> 12:47:10 AM
Now, the airplane tickets I bought in October came to me by FedEx, but when I took them out of the BRIGHTLY colored FedEx package, they were in.... A plain white envelope. And then, like I always do, I hucked the envelope with my tickets into my desk, not really thinking about the fact that it looked very similar to the 130 other envelopes in the exact same drawer. Moral of the story? There is no moral. Other than that I'm a goober. My friend Audrey remembered me for Christmas, and here I was feeling like maybe we had completely drifted apart in the last few years. I will have to do something about that, too. And I never mentioned Biayt's fabulous gift. My friends really embarrass me sometimes with their kindness. Especially the ones who have been praying for a stressed out me looking frantically for her mislaid plane tickets. Thanks, everyone. :) >> 4:56:01 PM Finished reading Soul Music. I liked Mort better, but this one was also good. Not often you find a writer who can encapsulate the soul of Music With Rocks In into words, but Pratchett managed it. Still haven't found the tickets. Still agitated about it. Hard to concentrate when you're wracking your pitiful memory for any scrap or clue. Even ran through old journal entries to try and jog my memory. Nada. Am also annoyed that I seem to have no time at night anymore. I'm always doing something, and then annoyed when I don't have time to do the other somethings. I need to change that. >> 3:00:26 PM
It's $100 to replace it. Grrrr. >> 12:30:37 PM
Andy's dad makes really good chili. I am not easily impressed by chili, mind you. I had a master chili maker for a grandfather, and that gene is nearly as strong as the cookie calling in my family line. So when I say the chili is good, I mean it. The chili is good. And so were the other eats. Alton Brown would approve. Speaking of which: I ruined the fruit cake mixture. I'm pissed. I had started it up Thursday night, set it on the stove so all the happy fruits and spices could mingle, and then I went to bed. But I forgot one little detail. I forgot to turn the burner off. (sigh) I tell ya, after the one hundredth cookie, my brain just shut down or something. But I'm back on that horse, baby! I bought new ingredients and I will make that fruitcake. Oh yes. It is my destiny! Speaking of which, Dave caught a glimpse of some of me hound-demons that I'm drawing for personal reference for The Book. He had this to say: "Whoa. What the hell is that?" You'll note not only did he speak, but he also gave me the proper response. The hound-demons are supposed to be freaky deaky. So I got that going for me. Did I mention every damn person in my office is wonderful at fulfilling my base materialistic desires? I got so much cool swag I think my head is going to pop. I can't even begin to name it all. I am drinking deeply of the fiction selection, including Soul Music (Yay Bubba!) and Riddle-Master (Yay Melissa!). And tomorrow night I may inflict Xanadu on my roommates. Except they both agreed that despite the high cheese content, they enjoy the movie about a roller-skating muse played by Olivia Newton-John. So "inflict" is probably not the proper term. Enough of this vapid reverie, woman! I gotta go back to writing. And fruitcake. Oh yes. Xaaaanadu
Such as: "Oh, sure, we'll just make cookies for everyone and hand them out in little bags." Four batches (three right, one failed) and 115 cookies later.... Note the timestamp on this blog. Yes, we just finished. We are probably not doing this next year. But damn they're exquisite. I am a cookie making machine, yes I am. Jeff was calling me Iron Steph. Many Iron Chef jokes flew about as I assigned him (my cooking assistant for this stupid, stupid, but heartfelt endeavor) to the solemn task of Icing The Bastards. He has, in one night, mastered the art of powdered sugar frosting. Next I'll teach him the hallowed Flying Crane Cream Cheese Technique. It occurs to me I usually do dumb things akin to baking over a hundred cookies in three hours on nights before major events. Two years in a row I remember making truffles for the holiday party, and being up to very late hours scooping, melting, and shaping the buggers. They garnered three marriage proposals and many glazed-over looks from coworkers who had never experienced the sheer bittersweet beauty of fresh, good truffles rolled in Dutch chocolate. I got sick of making ganaches after the second year, though. I made beer cheese a couple years, but no one (except Jeff) noticed. I'm making fruitcake this year and probably more beer cheese (for me -- I love it). And another thing that my siblings will love me for, but I can't talk about it just yet. The lentil soup also came out splendidly. I'll probably have it for breakfast. I accompanied it with some homemade eggplant romano (because I couldn't afford a chunk of parmesan) and it was also very good. It's amazing what you can do with a potato peeler and a chunk of hard cheese. I was hoping the local supermarket would have asiago and chorizo, but alas -- I'll have to look elsewhere. God, I'm wiped. No more cookie baking marathons for a while. Still, they all came out good, and I'm hoping everyone will enjoy them when we drop them off tomorrow before the party. Time to Zzzzzzz.... >> 4:41:36 AM
In the absence of manly men, I am making Megnut's lentil soup for dinner. I used chicken broth, though, and I added garlic and bay leaves instead of using parsley and cilantro. Smells good so far. We'll see if it fairs better than the batch I tried to make the last time I got a craving for the stuff. I may also cook myself some eggplant. Yes indeed. One veggie meal a day, that's all I ask for. >> 9:51:08 PM Coooookies. It's one of the traditions of the Jones Girls. The recipes and the know-how to make them are encoded in our genes. Even the men, though they're all usually too busy admiring the Christmas tree they picked out to bake. This year I've made my first ever batch of Jones Girls Sugar Cookies. It requires a pound of sugar and a pound and more of flour, just to give you an idea at how massive and formidable this dough is. I have opted to also throw my own ring in and go for the Alton Brown Fruitcake Recipe. I'm not fond of fruitcake, but I couldn't resist. It sounded good. And I also dug up a fruit cookie recipe written by Aurelia, my great-great-grandmother. This was my grandmother's grandmother, kids. It was exciting finding one of her recipes -- now I know how Howard Carter must have felt. Billy Blanks continues kicking me around the living room. I'm getting a little sick of the same routine over and over, but I like the fact that the Tae Bo stuff maintains my pulse rate and works all those muscles. Maybe I'll go jogging tomorrow. All this talk of food and working out, though, has reminded me I haven't had breakfast. So...tally ho! >> 1:55:22 PM
It's rather exciting working for a game company at times. The opportunities and sometimes immediate need for action can be gratifying if you approach it from the right angle. But then, I always feel I'm at my best -- and my happiest -- when I'm under deadline. It brings out a certain vibrancy in me that I don't get under normal stress. It can also, however, make me extremely bitchy if it stretches on too long. We'll be making cookies tonight, after the New Moon dua chat. I have to buy lots of wrapping paper. I'm nervous my Amazon.com shipment won't make it in time. Grrr. Last night was very fun in the Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil campaign. I was having a good run with Ivy, who has shifted away from her pacifistic stance in regards to dealing with the priests of the Elemental Eye o' Evil. For example, last night she kicked one in the teeth. We also got attacked by a grell, which is a large brain-thing with multiple tentacles. It seized Marabi, our pseudo-Asian Elven fandancer, which is ironic if you know anything about the adult horror animé genre and its fondness for Japanese schoolgirls and tentacle monsters. The running joke of the evening was that Marabi was fortunate that she wasn't wearing a school uniform when the monster attacked, or we'd have never seen her again. All this serves to remind me that I will be running my own party through the original Raveloft (aka House of Strahd) campaign. Mike will be part of the party for most of it. It should be a lot of fun, even though they're all going to die. Mwahaahahahahaa. >> 6:04:58 PM
I am officially declaring Dave's scale as wonky. According to it, I lost 3.5 pounds between Sunday morning and Monday morning. One should expect wariness toward a scale, though, when the company that makes it bears the same title as a Stephen King novel ("Thinner"). The Nature of Evil in Fictional Settings Which has been an issue regarding my D&D campaign recently. In one of the sessions, an NPC child was poisoned and died, which incited three distinct responses from my players: indifference, horror, and amusement. Two of the players were horrified that two of the other players were making jokes about poking the dying NPC with sticks -- which I did not dissuade because the two characters in question are not necessarily "nice", and probably would have done this. I am not so horrified by this because, well, it's a fictional character. And because I can't side with the good guys, even if I wanted to. I'm supposed to be the arbiter. If the semi-evil characters want to act semi-evil, I can't tell them not to. There will be repercussions, of course, but to simply have leaden anvils drop on their heads from the sky isn't fair, either. Jeff was annoyed by it not just because of the reaction of the two semi-evil characters, but because he wanted a way to save the NPC. This brings up the entirely valid point that the player characters are supposed to be heroes, and to not allow them to do heroic acts strips them of the sense that they are the larger-than-life people they wish to be. He didn't like the helplessness; he didn't feel it was fair. I argue, however, that the incident in question was meant to be a plot point that was orchestrated by another NPC who is, for lack of more robust terms, evil. If it angered some of the characters, then I've done my job. It's possible I should have given them a method of saving the child, but the evil in question wouldn't have done this. The response my players gave him/her/it was what it wanted, and to garner that response, it created a situation that was nearly impossible for them to sway the path of. Ultimately, though, I could have planned the session better. The execution was clumsy at best. That'll teach me not to run a session without preparing again. ...and Mike brought me his copy of House of Strahd, the 2nd Edition version of the 1st Edition Ravenloft module. Woot! We're gonna have some fuuuuun. >> 1:25:20 PM
Grind We went to a rock club for Beth's birthday, where a band named Idiosyncracy was playing covers, and sometimes covers of covers. I drank a surprising amount of alcohol without any seeming effects (making me wonder at the actual alcohol content in said alcohol), danced like a spastic dervish, and ultimately had a blast. I didn't want to leave at 11:30, but my allergies were being aggravated by the cigarette smoke, and I'd forgotten to take Claritin before I left. Bah. Of course, this morning I'm feeling the side effects -- not a hangover, no. I think I threw my shoulder out. :) My left shoulder, at least, is quite annoyed with me, as is my right knee, which began its protests last night, when I was trying to walk on it. Bah. But that's what Advil is for, and neither are terribly serious. I'll get over it. We're off to Pho Grand! But no Peryt. :( Ah well. She will be missed. >> 1:35:57 PM
And for the people who seem to think I never have any gift ideas for myself: here!. It's my wishlist. It's a little late to be ordering off of it, but there it is. Enjoy. What I really want, though, is a wooden soaping mold. The plastic molds are fine, but I want a wooden tray mold so I can have uniform bars that unmold easy. A la the small one halfway down on this page. We're going back to the delightful Pho Grand this Sunday. I am loving Viatnamese food. It's very tasty. Even if I can't spell or pronounce it. I'm sorry, my life isn't terribly exciting right now, and I'm not digging up any gems from the past in my brain today, so I think I'll just head off and get some lunch with the guys. :) >> 2:56:23 PM
Who's left? Um. I don't know. People. I just got a gift for my dad, though, and Mom and Mark are taken care of. Espie's done, my two secret santas are done. Jeff and Dave? Yup. Melissa, Johnny, Bubba? Covered. I think the only people left are Nakht and my nephews. I have no idea how much I've spent since payday. A very large amount, I'm sure. My bank account seems to think I'm not doing too bad, though, and that may be true. If it is, I'm going for a computer upgrade and save the rest. Maybe even (gasp) open up a savings account. Heh. Yeah. Right. >> 7:07:09 PM I didn't pass out this time, but I did have to skip the last of the kick set at the end. I think I strained my ankle on Tuesday, and my right leg didn't want to hold my weight. Meh. $171.89 -- that's how much I owe in property tax. Not bad. I was calculating in the $200s. It's for last year and this year. It'll be nice not to have to worry about that for another year. I tried making transparent soap last night. Disappointing! It was transparent when I poured it, and opaque when I unmolded. Grrrr. But I got a nice "seashore"-esque scent out of bladderwrack, oakmoss, and your typical "rain" fragrance. I just wish the soap were transparent like it's supposed to be. Oh well. Tonight I'll probably whip up some rose and jasmine layered soaps. And maybe some lavender. And then I'm going to retire the soaping for a bit. I've made a loooooot this year. And for the record, Everclear is in fact legal in Missouri. Very important to us toiletry makers. Uh. Yeah, that's the ticket. Yeah. >> 12:38:44 PM
I did get through fifteen minutes of it. I still haven't stopped feeling dizzy. It's funny how last week I thought the bellydance exercise stuff was difficult. In comparison, it's a shimmy in the park. Childhood Angst One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was telling my then-girlfriend Angela what I thought of Kobe. I must have talked about it a lot, but I liked Kobe a lot. Every time I had a chance to find a good reason to converse with him, I felt that thrill. Look at me! I'm Sandra Deeee! I also knew that he'd never go for me. Perhaps it's self-defeating, but I was aware of how I compared to the other girls, and I was aware that Kobe could have dated any of them -- which meant I didn't stand a chance. I was an undigestible lump to the upper echelons of the social scene. Short, clumsy, dorky -- I read science fiction and I wasn't quite like everyone else. I didn't wear sexy clothes. I had chronic allergies to dust and mold, and the portable classrooms they put us in produced both, so I was constantly sneezing and blowing my nose in class. I hadn't developed my curves (and wouldn't for some time to come). I was smart -- I was selling stories to professional publications at that age, after all -- but even the smart kids didn't like me. I always wound up hanging out with kids who didn't have much money, kids whose parents didn't pay them much attention. Kids who would end up one of three places: In band, in computer lab, or dropping out of school. Angela was one of these kids. I think the last time I checked (back in High School), she was a drug addict with a baby. She had dropped out by sophomore year. I never saw her again. I don't even know if she's still alive. But this was still Jr. High. And I still trusted her. And that was my mistake. There was another girl, Darlene. I don't know why, but Darlene didn't like me. I never did anything to her -- I was just an awkward, dorky pre-teen who made offbeat jokes and sat around reading a lot. But Darlene decided not to like me. And Angela, who had all the will of a slice of goat cheese, sided with her new friend -- Darlene. Kids do cruel things to other kids that they think are weaker than them. To my credit, I never tried to make myself something I wasn't. I refused to do drugs. I didn't wear dresses or make-up (I didn't like to). I didn't stop reading. And my resilience to peer pressure was what made me such a good target. I remember sitting on a bench, reading a book or eating lunch, and I remember looking up. Angela -- who had made it clear earlier that day that we weren't friends anymore -- was walking across the campus, over to the lockers. Where Kobe was. And I knew then what would happen next. I knew, and I sat there, the cold off-shore breeze blowing through me, completely mute. She stopped in front of him, and began talking, and then she pointed at me. Kobe looked at me. Then he looked away. My crush was crushing me. In life, I've had a lot of crushes. I cherish them -- they're sweet, innocent -- an instinctive reaction to recognizing the goodness in others. None have ever been as dramatic as that cold day in Jr. High, and none probably ever will be again. The melodrama of childhood simply isn't present here in adult reality. So I liked someone. So what? And though most of my crushes are best left to the mind and my private daydreams, they still play a valuable role in my life. Every time I get a crush on someone, it reminds me that I am, in fact, still human. That my heart is still beating. That I still care, and want to care. My younger self didn't see the value of that or understand why I'd find that valuable today, but I seize on that realization with a great zeal. It's a magnificent thing. >> 12:09:33 PM
I made two batches today. I don't know how many bars...um...let's see...probably between 24 and 30. Depends on how I slice it. The scents were fun...Café Bianca (orange + vanilla + coffee scents -- named for a drink I used to get in Berkeley that was ooooh so good) and Freesia-Blueberry, which is for my grandmother. She likes the smell, so I made it for her. The guys, naturally, hate it. It was surprisingly easy this time to do. Everything flowed very well, the oils and the lye solution both cooled together to the same temperature, which is highly desirable when soaping. It doesn't surprise me, though. I've had a reality distortion field going up around me the last few days; meaning, for those of you scratching your head, that I've "been on a roll". This is when I should be down at the casino and listening to my inner voice. Though it would seem crass to go and do such now. Speaking of reality and distortion -- I just finished reading Mort. Wowee. It was short, but wonderful. I haven't been effected like that by a book in a while. Part of my brain was lodged in the Discworld for most of today as Dave and I puttered about the mall buying Assorted Crap and disdaining scented candles. I really, really liked it. The book, that is, not the candles. The story was engrossing, the characters were likeable, and the ending was satisfactory. And Mort is now up there with Cordelia (Barrayar, Shards of Honor), Will (The Dark is Rising), and Vanyel as one of my favorite characters in speculative fiction. Ah, I can only hope to write characters that well someday. So in addition to making curious soaps, I also made a curious cold cream. Employing the magic of stearic acid and emulsifying wax, it came out very good; I daresay it even is of professional standard, such that I would feel honorable selling it (as opposed to previous creams I made, which were disappointing in their inability to properly mix right). It wasn't very liquidy, though. I had to put it in a jar and not the squeeze bottle I wanted to. Next time I'll use more water, definitely. Cold creams and cream lotions are the mayonnaise of the cosmetic world. You're convincing two stubborn opponents -- oil and water -- to mingle and join happily ever after. Emulsifying wax and stearic acid help to make this unholy union possible; they're the prenuptial agreement both parties sign and agree to. I'm thrilled that this worked so well. And so damn easy. Compared to soap -- which takes a month -- creams take less than an hour. Definite plus, there. Next weekend: liquid soap. Assuming I can find the proper ingredients. Mwahahaahahaha. Ah, and as you can probably tell -- I do not have a cable modem from Excite/@home. But many of my friends do. I feel for them, I really do. Viva la DSL! >> 12:02:37 AM |
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