Back to Work

You know, when an adult son calls, and the first words out of his mouth are "Mom, don't freak out" - nothing good is going to follow that prelude.  So you all know he was bitten by a rattlesnake, right through his boot into his inner left ankle.  A few days in the ICU, doses of anti venom, and a week of bed rest before being released to go home for two weeks of recuperation before his next assignment.  It was such a weird period of time and left me most unsettled.

So this week I decided it was best to plunge back into soap and pottery making, a garden art show that I was invited to participate in as a guest is this coming weekend, and there were 10 batches of soap that needed to be wrapped and labeled to display their beautiful fragrant selves.  On the very rare occasion, a soap goes funky for one reason or another.  It might develop the dreaded orange spots which indicate that one of the oils was off, or an unsightly blemish like stearic acid spots - which are harmless but do detract from the appearance.  And even less common but still possible is that those white spots might be undissolved lye.  We all know that through the miracle of chemistry and saponification, once the lye water is introduced to the oils and thoroughly brought to trace, put to bed to heat, and left for 4 weeks to cure, that there isn't any active lye left.  It has converted to soap and lovely nourishing glycerine.

So, I was a bit stumped with this lilac soap mystery.  The easiest way to determine if there's any active lye is to simply lick it - if the tongue gets zapped, then yes there is lye! And ouch!  Still it is a mere moment of unpleasantness and nothing that will sear your tongue off or cause permanent damage.  Being the intrepid entrepreneur I took a suspect bar and dutifully scooped out a suspect white spot and put the minuscule dot on my tongue.  Nothing - but I like to be absolutely 100% sure, especially before selling to a litigious public.  So I asked The Spousal Unit to give his opinion.

Him:  You want me to what?
Me:  Just lick the white spot and tell me what happens to your tongue.
Him:  Why on earth would I want to do that?  What's going to happen?
Me:  Probably nothing - just do it.
Him:  No thanks.

I'm sure all the great scientific discoveries of our time also had to run the gamut of reluctant spouses.  Sigh.  Neither of us would have had to resort to licking soap if the pH test strips hadn't gone missing.

So I decided it isn't lye active,  just fugly.  So, into the box where I store the end pieces and others deemed not ready for prime time.  Several times a year I do a massive gifting to friends and relatives who don't seem to mind in the least.  The soaps still accomplish their primary function of cleaning, and the fragrance is still lovely - it just pinches to have to write off a large batch for aesthetic reasons.

The lovely hostess of this coming garden art sale is a vegetarian, and I have the perfect dish to bring for the communal pot luck while we set up.  A lemon vinaigrette is poured over quickly steamed asparagus and halved cherry tomatoes.  Of course, being potters, it is a requirement that one bring the offering in a handmade dish.  Mmmmm.

 Namaste Gentle Readers

P.S.  As a disclaimer I would like to state for the record that I do not lick each and every bar of soap, nor do I ever sell a bar that has been licked.  That would be tacky.  And unhygienic.  And lead to foaming of the mouth and being suspected of rabies.