So I went shopping today! Lots of stuff, like food and essentials... but the biggest thrill is a *lot* of soaping supplies. Who needs 6 L of Olive oil? I do ! How about that 8 L of Canola? Me again! And 3 Kg of Lye? Me! Whee!

I spent about $230 on soaping stuff, but I got a lot of goodies, and I won't run out of supplies this month. :)

Anyways, I'm tired, but I just wanted to be all excited for a bit.

I didn't get to sleep until 6am. I have been messing up my internal clock lately. So when I woke up to my mom's call at 10:30 this morning, I decided not to go back to sleep. Today is going to be a complete write off, but maybe it'll push me back into the land of the daypeople. My nights have been getting later and later over the past week. This happens about once a year, my internal rhythms start switching into night mode. Normally this isn't a big deal, but I'm not happy with having a different sleep schedule from Mike's. Oh well, we'll see if this little reset works.

Ok, I have noticed I'm behind the times on this little LJ 'cool link of the week' thing, but 1. I haven't been able to get to my LJ in days and 2. I found this link via journals not part of the LJ realm.

Baby, Wil Wheaton has his own website. I'm too zoned to actually articulate how cool I think this is. Which means it's probably stupid for me to even think about emailing the poor guy to say how cool I think his having a website is.

My messed up brain has been doing this whole 'regress to being a kid, watching Stand by Me over and over again, pretending to BE the guys from SbM with my sister and friends.' thing. That movie had such a major impact on my life, and for me to be 26 and reading the blog of one of the 4 guys in said movie just floors me.

Manners are dead.

Ok, maybe not completely. It sure feels like it on days like today.

I'm talking to the receptionist at the pool about adult lessons and aquafit courses. A really quick convo, and I noticed a man standing (too close for my comfort) behind me. I start wrapping up with my standard "well, thanks for the information, I hope you have a good day". Mid sentence, buddy *shoves* me to the side and slaps his swim pass on the desk.

I say rather loudly, "You're excused!" and walk away with Sara. I'm just fuming. Now I wish I had gone with my first impulse and ripped him a new one. Something like, "Excuse me, that was really rude. I wasn't finished speaking. You could have waited the extra 5 seconds it would have taken for me to move out of the way. There's no need to push anyone around. Are you an adult or a child? Because my 6 year old here KNOWS that it's extremely rude to shove people around ." or my standard with Sara when she's being rude: "Where's your manners?".

*sighs* Fucking people.

later..

i love my daughter... i love my daughter... wringing her neck is a bad idea... *sighs*

When I informed Sara that she doesn't have enough left in her piggy bank to buy the slushie she wants, and if she wants more allowance this week, she'll have to earn it, she declared that I should "give me $5 for this!" as she folds some laundry. (she gets $1 for helping with laundry. Flat rate.)

The whole point of giving Sara (a very fucking inflated) allowance is to teach her about money management. Her dad thinks she should help for the sake of helping, and disagrees with the idea of her getting paid to do chores. I'm starting to think he's right.

I can't even begin to count the number of discussions I've had with her about money, and the fact that it is a limited resource in this household. Hell, in any household. I don't want her growing up worrying about money, but I *do* want her to understand that a bank account doesn't just automatically fill up with an endless supply to be spent on anything her heart desires. I can't explain in any way that she could comprehend that we're not in grand financial straits. Our bills are paid, we have the necessities, but there's very little leftover this month. Little enough that I'm not going to be shelling out for junk food.

The sense of entitlement that comes off of her sometimes just infuriates me. I want this, so you WILL get me this. That's why I started the allowance. You want that, you pay for it. Period. If you can't afford it, tough. But it's just not working. She's spending every penny of her allowance and then turning to me with the expectation that I'll buy her latest craving for her anyways. Just because. I'm not bending on this point, but it's just. not. getting. through.

I'm just tired and frustrated. What's new, eh? Back to the laundry.

Sara gave me a scare last night. Not deliberately. Around 2pm she was complaining of a headache. I don't have any kid's Tylenol here, so I figured just some mellow out time and cold compresses for her forehead might help. Then she started getting hot. Scary hot. I tore up every single place our thermometer could be and couldn't find it.

All I could think was, "mengitis (sp), fever, bad scary, shit". She wouldn't eat anything. She was pouring heat off her body in a way I've never seen with her. She had this headache running up the back of her head. She was completely listless. (and if you know Sara, listless is NOT a word ever associated with her.) I'm quietly freaking out, as to not freak her out too.

So I did what every mom does when freaking about their kids - call my mom. ;) Mom's advice: Crush a tablet of the adult ibuprofen we have, give Sara a third of the powder in a sugar water mix; either give her sponge baths or put her in a lukewarm bath; lots of fluids; and if I couldn't break the fever in 12 hours, take her to the hospital.

I also called Sara's dad. He came over just after the fever broke with some kid's Tylenol and a lot of worry. We called him this morning to let him know she was ok.

She's doing ok, a little off today, but all in all not bad. We had a nice slow day. Went to the corner store and had a long nap. (me too! long naps are good!)

I think I'm going to decree today 'Work on PtF' day. I have several journals to update, there's a mess up in one of the features. I have a few things that may work well as features sitting in my inbox. I just need to figure out an effective way to keep coolish and go from there. Mike suggested that I take my work with me to the library at UW and work in the air conditioning. I think he meant my OAC course that I have yet to touch.

*sighs* I wish Idriel (the laptop) was a real laptop... nice and self contained. She's a laptop that needs an external mouse and keyboard and the battery is shot on her too. Enh. I'm tempted to hook her up to Liriel (my comp) and transfer over all the working files for PtF and go to the library anyways. I wouldn't be able to upload anything, but I could maybe get most of the work done in heaven sent coolness. :)

We shall see.

later...

I got sidetracked into unmolding and cutting up the last batch of soap I made. It didn't work out quite as planned. *sighs* There's a lye swirl through most of the soap. How do I know this? I tounge tested it. See lye will 'bite' if it's present in the soap. Hard to explain. Lets just say it's like licking a bar of soap, and then having your tongue burn and sting and it tastes like utter crap.

I may just end up rebatching it, I guess. Bah! Bah!

later still...

If I had actually done what I said I was going to do today, I should be posting right about now about the fully updated PtF. Instead I'm about to get started. I got sidetracked completely by my 6lb batch of potentially sucky soap.

Sucky no more, baby! Since there was the real possibility of me just having to toss the lot, I decided to have some fun and do some experimenting. I rebatched the soap into 4 different types:

Cinnamon - added a tablespoon of ground cinnamon, mixed it up and tossed it into the molds.
Mint - pulled out the rarely used coffee grinder and ground up peppermint super fine, tossed that into the batch, put a few drops of green food colouring, molded it.
Eucalyptus & Mint - ground up more peppermint, took the bottle of eucalyptus I had on my desk, dumped that in, put a bunch of blue food colouring in, mixed it up, molded it.
Plain - Added 2 tablespoons of olive oil, mixed it up, molded it.

What's really cool about this is now I have an idea of how much scent I can get from using straight herbs & spices. Also, my guinea pigs now have a selection of scents and colours to try! (let me know what appeals, k?)

What sucks is with all the rebatching, molding and unmolding I've literally washed my hands 50 times today. Just call me lizard girl.

Anyways, I have a new cool poem to put online, and about a kazillion journal entries to update.

I'm cranky, I'm tired. I've had 2 showers today and I need a third.

*sighs* I have this internet presence. I have a website that's supposed to be a safe place to say anything. I have an online journal (2 of them, actually) where I like to write about my life, and the way I see the world.

Guess what. I don't. I edit myself. I edit my fucking SELF to be less opinionated, less offensive. I feel bad when I post something that might be misconstrued. So I edit.

I don't talk about why I don't like certain places anymore. I don't talk about how it feels to see me and my life used as an example of something Wrong. I don't talk about what is said to me and why it hurts.

Why? Because of everyone else. Gotta play nicey nice all the fucking time. "Melesse" is smart, moody, a bit weird, but all in moderation. I'm not Melesse. It's my name in this digital universe. I'm Linda. Linda is touchy and really fucking smart. I spent most of my life having to sense emotions and tones. In other words I have a fine tuned empathic sense of the world around me.

If you don't want to know what Linda thinks, stop reading now.

So here goes.

I don't post on **** anymore because I don't like what it's become. I think it's become very cliquey and outright mean. I think to belong there you have to fit a certain profile, and god help you if you don't fit. I think it's become a place to agree not discuss. So I don't post. Period.

Another one, I'm not fucking stupid. I know what a luser tone sounds like. I know what "are you fucking stupid" sounds like unspoken. I can smell contempt. It reeks of a poison I know all too well.

Now for the one that's pissing me right off tonight. Don't come into my home, watch me with my child and use a clear example of my parenting to illustrate "No Discipline". Bite me. Hard. TV is NOT a major issue in my home. If my daughter wants to watch treehouse all day, I'm not going to fight her on it. It's NOT a discipline worthy offense. Want to see discipline in our fucked up little family? Tough. Nobody sees me seriously discipline my child. Ever. It's fucking humiliating for Sara, and her feelings take precedence over my desire to be approved of as a "good mother".

Never, ever call me lazy or sloppy. There is one person on the face of this fucking earth that has the right to make such harsh judgments on me. That person is me. If the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with dared say that to my face, he'd regret it. He doesn't anyways because he respects me and whatever I chose to do with my life. Nobody has the right to voice such shitty judgments about another human being. Think it, sure, but keep it to yourself. At least acknowledge the fact that the ONLY person that will ever know someone's commitment level to anything is them. I could talk until my head explodes about what my world looks like to me, what motivates me, what doesn't, what hurts, what heals, what I have to deal with everyday and you will only ever understand a tiny fraction of that. If you will never know the complete picture of my life, then you are UNABLE to make a sound judgment about my life. So take your lazy & sloppy and suck it up. Preferrably with the sound of my fiance telling me almost daily to not burn myself out. Oh sorry, I'm lazy and sloppy, what would I know of burn out?

Grammar police can bite my ass. I run every single post I make to hissyfit through spell and grammar check before I post just because I'm afraid that someone will latch onto a typo and rip me apart for it. Being able to spell and write grammatically correct sentances doesn't make you any fucking better than anyone else. My mother has been teaching english since 1963 (I think), and she has the most atrocious online spelling and grammar. She doesn't CARE. She knows enough to know it doesn't matter. In my not humble in the least opinion correcting someone's spelling and grammar online makes you look like a fucking arrogant idiot.

I'm a smoker. I'm not stupid. I'm actually literate. I can read the warnings on every pack of smokes I buy. So please do me a favor, don't tell me what I already know. Every time I light up a cigarette I am fully aware of the concequences of doing so. I KNOW I'm courting cancer. And yes, I do know what death from cancer looks like. I've seen it up close and held its hand. I'm addicted to a chemical I very stupidly started using. This doesn't make me a lesser human being.

It's 10:37 in the *morning* and it's already 28 degrees out. It's supposed to be 36 degrees this afternoon. And I want to make soap. (that involves pants, shoes, long sleeves, rubber gloves and goggles)

Oh yeah! I'm a soap maker now! *happy dance* I made my first batch of soap last night. It's a pretty gross colour, but it smells great. I want to make a plain batch of soap today, about 6 lbs worth. I don't have enough supplies here to do that so I have to go out into the heat from hell to pick it up. I may have a shower, go to the supermarket, come home, have another shower, then go to the hardware store to get the lye. Lather, rinse, repeat until I have all my supplies.

If I'm going to get into this soap making seriously I have to find a cheaper way to get supplies. The 3 lb batch (about 11 bars finished) cost me about $35 to make. I've been doing some price comparisons with the online suppliers and christ... I'm *never* going to buy essential oils in those little tiny bottles ever again.

Anyways. I'll be cutting the bars tonight, then they have to cure for 3-4 weeks. If anyone wants to be my guinea pig in early September for ugly coloured lavender scented bars, let me know. :)

Hell if I really get into this whole soap making thing I may have an answer to the eternal "What will I be when I grow up?" question.

later...

I should note that I am not going to call myself the "Paper Street Soap Company" and I use vegetable oils.

Just to clarify. :)

And if you don't get that, you need to watch more movies. ;)

(yes, I have been told I should call my 'soap company' that.)

still later...

Melting.
Hot.
Boiling.
Sweat in rivers down my back.
I can't fucking BREATHE.

So, like, I'm home now from lunch with kraig. We stopped in at the closest 'weird foods' store and I got the coconut oil and lye I needed. They have palm oil there! Excellent! :)

Now I'm going to have another shower to clear off this sticky film of sweat, oil and smog I developed. Then it's off to the grocery store to get Crisco (yes, Crisco is GOOD for soap making) and real groceries.

I think I'll make the next batch later tonight, say around midnight? When it's cooler. kraig has completely vetoed me working with the lye without all the protective layers. Simply if I'm not wearing head to toe protection (especially the goggles) I'm not allowed to make soap. Ordinarily I'd be pissed at anyone telling me what to do, but he's right. The minute that powdered lye hits the water (or my sweaty skin) I'm dealing with one of the most powerful alkalies around. What's really scary is that once the lye and water blend it LOOKS and smells like plain water.

I'm actually tempted to give myself a mild lye burn (from raw soap) just to make certain that I completely understand what I'm dealing with here. I could feel myself getting cocky last night, and that scares me. I don't think I really understand what I'm working with. Intellectually I know lye + water = seriously caustic. Intellectually I know I get this stuff in my eyes, I'd have to be really fucking lucky not to go blind. (and that luck would involve pouring straight vinegar into my eyes)

Mike and I talked about my self-inflicted burn idea last night. He obviously thinks it's stupid. When I thought a bit more about it I came up with the analogy to my woodworking. I don't run my hand into a running blade to prove that I have to be careful when cutting wood. So why the hell would I do the same with a dangerous chemical?

*sighs* Same rules apply to soap making as do to woodworking. Treat the tools of my trade with the respect they deserve. Period. Getting cocky will get me seriously hurt or killed. *laughs* Shit, I've known this for years. When I'd have a new crew in the theatre with me, the very first lesson was to sit in the middle of the stage and come up with 50 ways they could get hurt or killed. Morbid? Yes, but I always had crews of teenaged kids that didn't fuck around in that workspace.

I guess I'm trying to get it through my thick skull right now that I have worked with scary stuff before that I didn't truly understand, but I always came out ok. (we shall ignore the time I electrocuted myself, but if someone is curious...)

That shower sounds good. :) ta.

Oh my god. *laughs*

My landlady is a complete moron. Or thinks I am.

She just told me HOW to clean my bathroom to prevent mold and mildew.

I quote:
"With the humidity, make sure you don't get any mold in the bathroom. Keep the door open after you shower, run the fan, keep windows open for cross ventilation!" (picture me trying not to laugh at her, and politely "mmm, hmm" ing.) "Take an old rag and wipe down the tiles after every shower, it will keep the mildew from growing"

I did say to her in the middle of this cleaning bathrooms 101 lesson that I don't let my bathroom tile get mildew. I don't think she heard me.

Also I don't think she realizes what a fucking pigsty the apartment was when we moved in. I scrubbed mildew off the ceiling of said bathroom.

I have the feeling that living here is going to provide me with endless amusement. :)