Soft soap and Sumptuousness




No pictures and KB is very disappointed because he was hoping for salacious ones. Tramp. You see, I was digging through greasy and blackened milk cartons at Main and 17th recently to find cogs, sprockets, and round discs with pointy ends. Christmas is coming and my supply of ninja stars, to have at irritating drivers and consumers pounding the pavements for the latest deal, is low. Surprising really for I’ve been quite even-tempered lately and have not had much call for flinging said ninja stars around to nick soft flesh (consumers) and scratch up metal (cars driven by irritating people).

Anyway, I was there, and an unsuspecting father was there too with his toddler. Heeding BK and KB’s instructions to let them know when good-looking fathers are present on Main St, I sent them a text message informing them of the time and location of the sighting. The insatiable two replied with a demand for pictures, the more salacious, the better. When I didn’t, I was told that I “...might as well crawl away into a dark corner and shrivel up into nothing”.

This is what you get for being a Scientist, and for reporting hot-daddy sightings as requested, shit and abuse. It’s okay. I’m used to it, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t have feelings you know BKKB! Sniff.

More about pictures: Dr. J has sent me a bunch not so much for my viewing pleasure, but as he said at some point, so you can help sort through them. I desisted. I have enough of my own to sort through, and that’s not even the salacious ones. I’ll leave that to MM who insists on sending me pictures showing impressive tan lines. How impressive? Let’s just say that squares and triangles are involved, perhaps a starfish or two.

Then RP was bewailing the fact that he’d taken more pictures than he anticipated, but he was too embroiled in metaphorical picture processing to go through his. Mayo-MY on the other hand claims that he has no problem with the delete button, and that it will be easy for him to go through the thousands of pictures he has but I suspect that the finger (hopefully not mayo-drenched) will merely hover over the delete button when he gets to the pictures of us on the beach next to Redlands Beach. He promises to send us copies and will permit veto rights but I’ve yet to hear my mail box go ping. Actually, it’s probably safer to leave them on his computer and not release any digital ones into the wild. Like GMO plants, they have a penchant for spreading unintentionally. JLM also sighed heavily at the thought of pictures for he took several days worth, but fortunately for him (and us probably) he stopped in the last few days. As for me, I’m all sorted out now but have to wait for permission from the Captain to send them out. You’ll all have to be patient.

MM, however, isn’t all that patient. At least that’s the impression I get, so I’d best do something about that. All this moving around – so taxing, but I suppose it has to be done. Good practice for later in the year.

But let’s get on to soap, soap that is composed of long-chained polyhydrocarbons with an acidic COOH end, and metaphorical soft soap, although in one instance at least, the two merge. I love coincidences like this, and if you, dear reader, don’t, wander along.

I was hoping that the last bottle of dish detergent I bought would really be the last but it’s not meant to be. Those damn sprockets, clogs and ninja stars were dirty. But not so dirty that some judicious boiling in soapy water prior to soaking in hexanes and halogenated hydrocarbon solvents will not get rid of the sticky, greasy dirt. I might also take away the top layer of the metal, but that’s fine, it just means the sharp pointy bits will become rusty and then I may be able to spread tetanus or iron poisoning around when they go flying at their intended victims.

In any case, I went shopping for soap yesterday. There was none to be had. Well, not really, there were many to be had, but the manufacturers had added nasty, faux-flowery scents to them, and really, who wants your dishes smelling of “April showers”, “Water lilies (do they even smell?)”, “Lavender (calming, but so prissy old lady somehow)”, or “Marine Blast (why would I want to smell of the Titanic?), when you’re having dinner. It’s almost as bad, if not worse, than smoking during meal times. All this to say that, alas, the type I use normally was unavailable. So I went to see Dr. Bonner to check out what he had on offer. He has Almond (reminds me of cyanide), Lavender (see above), tea-tree (Not sure, couldn’t sniff through the cover) and Peppermint (too cough medicine syrupy for me). No unscented though. Dr. B, you’ve failed me again – they were on sale though.

Incidentally, I met JLM there running errands; he was looking for tape of a particular texture and shade of violence. I was able to point him to the aisle where such things are kept, and he seemed quite pleased at what was on display. What nefarious purpose this textured and violently coloured tape will be put to, however, I didn’t enquire.

Then I left to get hexanes which strangely enough, you can’t get at London Drugs, aka “Centre of the World”, what is this world coming to. The hexanes only took a smidgen off the ninja stars which was annoying. I really don’t want to use methylene chloride because it makes my hands cold, and when my hands are cold, my feet become cold, and then like KTK, I lose focus and wander. Actually, it wouldn’t have made much difference because the day was strangely unfocused anyway and I was wandering around without any goals in hand.

But back to soap again, I’ve started using laundry detergent to wash my dishes in lieu of the unscented, unavailable stuff – after all one long chain polyhydrocarbon acid is much like another is it not? Apparently not because the laundry detergent leaves this film on your dishes and no, it’s not like okra was on the diet either. I suspect it’s a nasty additive that coats your clothes to make them feel softer or some such thing, or maybe it’s designed to attract dirt to your clothes so you end up washing them more, and using more detergent – quel nasty corporate trick to get you buy more soap. At this rate I shall haul my clothes to the nearest river and rock to beat them clean, but perhaps that might be too much. After all, principles only get you so far then you fall upon them and stagger around mortally wounded (metaphorically that is).

On Friday, there were little cabals convening all over town. I had one of my own, but it was more of an accidental cabal than intentional. First RP came by with a bottle of wine to add to my collection on the deck. I’m curious to see how many bottles will collect by November. He sat, he chatted, and he supped on thrown together from the fridge’s contents salad, whose ingredients were barely integrated by a balsamic reduction and oil. Plenty of salt was thrown about for good measure. Then there was open pasta mixed with sauce – dear reader, never, have your pasta closed, nor sitting alone with the sauce by the side; it’s bad form – followed by my version of stone soup (i.e. thrown together from the fridge’s contents soup). Then there were Cajun-style (i.e. inadvertently burnt to a black bitter crisp) baked peaches which were saved by the addition of Dirty Laundry port. Good thing it was dark too so the other two guests who came later couldn’t see the burnt bits, which I called caramelized. Then the cabal got down to business and decisions were made efficiently, cash exchanged hands, and plans were put into action.

Last night (Saturday), I watched Les Adieux de La Reine with Dr. C and his entourage which was sumptuous being about the last days of Marie-Antoinette, poor duck, in Versailles, but seen through the eyes of the servant of the books of the Queen’s library. Goodness who knew such depravity took place in those days - and all in such extremely elegant clothing and such golden (as in the metal) surroundings. There wasn’t much bread or soup though which I supposed was part of M-A’s problems. Lots of gilt and cushions of gold-thread, but after all you can’t eat cushions can you – a bit dry one would assume but probably very good source of fibre.

Today, coffee was drunk with DWA and various mutual acquaintances and friends picked over, trussed and roasted verbally. It was quite delicious, this meeting, especially the grilled sandwiches we had with the coffee. Bacon, butter and egg – how can you go wrong with these ingredients, I ask. And now, I’m getting ready to crank up the million dollar (at 50% discount) machine for SV’s wee patients tomorrow. I hope they’re grateful because I quite resent having to go into work today. However, it’s all for the greater good and someday, someone will be relieved (hopefully) that we do what we do. Must remember RP’s quiz on whether you should quit your job or not. Six questions – answer no to more than three and you’re killing yourself with job stress. I answered yes to all six questions so should be ecstatic over my job, but funnily enough not today. First World Problems. So Prevalent Here.