So this is my newest batch of soap. I hadn’t made any in a couple of years, and I was extremely nervous to try again, for some reason. I guess because there’s a lot of finesse involved, and finesse comes with practice. I had to relearn everything as I went along.

This soap is made from lard, coconut oil, and olive oil. I don’t use any kind of fragrances—obviously, because of my MCS—so any recipe I use will have to include oils that don’t stink to high heaven. Lard does (omg, does it ever) but the coconut mostly covers it up. Since it’s fresh it smells strongly of the ingredients, but after it cures for a month, the scent will be very mild, if present at all. So that’s good.

I think all my soaps will include coconut oil. It smells heavenly.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the oatmeal. That’s why it’s all speckled. The pictures aren’t quite capturing the color, but your browser will change it anyway.

I think I might stick with the all-vegetable soaps from now on. Vegetable oil doesn’t have that dead-cow smell that always makes me gag. Crisco is a good solid vegetable oil that’s relatively cheap and readily available. Pretty silly, huh? Crisco? Who’da thunk it.

And I guess that’s why I keep returning to this soap-making deal. It’s fascinating to me the ways I can combine common household items (drain opener, grease) to make another, superbly useful household item. It’s probably why I never got into art for art’s sake, because I can’t use it. If I decide I need art to hang somewhere, I’ll make that, but not because I have a burning desire to paint. I have a burning desire to craft useful things, like knitting needles, hats and soaps. Having MCS has been a curse in a lot of ways, but in this way it has been a blessing, because I’d never have looked for alternatives if I hadn’t been forced to, thereby opening up this whole new crafty world. I mean, I always liked to work with my hands, but it was mainly focused on woodworking, fixing things around the house, occasional sketching. I’m happy about this new chapter opening up before me.

And now I need to go plan my next batch of soap.

I pared down and organized the contents of my kitchen first, and then I actually took the stuff to the Salvation Army. Once I broke the ice, it became easy to let things go. I tackled the books, donating a large box to the library (all mine and the kids’—can’t get the hubs to sort his books), then the kids’ clothes and toys, including the ones in the shed.

And wow. The shed. My “shed” is huge, mmkay? People mistake it for a two-story house. It actually looks bigger from the outside, but still. That’s a lot of space to hold everything we decided we don’t need but don’t know what to do with. The guy that lived here before was a hoarder, and we inherited (long story) the shed portion of the hoard. O. M. G. It was packed. I tried to clean it a little at a time because I didn’t have a pickup or money, but finally gave up. I never did get all his stuff out. Especially irksome is an inline V-6 motor that’s immovable and constantly in the way. I’ve tried selling it on Craigslist and giving it away on Freecycle, and nobody wants this stupid thing.

But I digress.

Point is, I’ve been sorting stuff in there, too, and it feels good. A big problem in the shed is storage. There’s a ton of floor space but very little shelving, so everything ends up piled here and there. I’m dying to do a whole renovation to the place, maybe make a little apartment out there with a bathroom and everything.

First I have to rid myself of all those things.

Christmas 2010 I made this decadent body butter to give away as presents. It’s made of shea and cocoa butters, calendula-infused jojoba oil, and hemp oil. It’s not really good for overall moisture, but it’s perfect for rough patches, like elbows. Only problem was I made so much that I couldn’t give it all away. Now, over a year later, I still have ten whole pots left and no idea what to do with them. The butter seem to be perfectly good for having sat on the shelf, but I doubt it would last forever, or even till I could use the whole supply.

I thought about selling it online, but where would I do that? Could I make an Etsy shop or something similar for only ten pots? Seems like overkill. Also, I’d have to charge six bucks a pot, before shipping, just to break even. I don’t know if they’re worth that much, and I’d like to make a profit. There’s also the question of packaging. Those nifty little tins don’t take glue very well, so I’d have to buy sticker labels. Sounds like a fun project, but for ten pots? I don’t know.

Another unfinished project is the wooden knitting needles I tried to make. Well, I did make them, but they turned out looking, smelling, and feeling like crap. Walmart doesn’t carry the size I need, and the internet said it would be simple to make my own, but it’s been a lot of work and I still can’t use them. If I want to continue this project, I’ll have to start fresh with a new dowel, but it’s so much work I doubt I will. I’ll just find the needles online, I guess.

And then there’s the hat I knitted my youngest. I made it, it was wonderful, then we washed it and the stitches loosened up, which made it too big. I expect things to shrink in the wash, not stretch. We unraveled it, and the ball is waiting for those damned knitting needles to be finished. So is my son’s ball of yarn. Meanwhile, I’ll work on my older daughter’s shawl.

You know, it seems like last year was all about letting go, in many different areas of my life. And 2012 seems set up for me to start tying up the loose ends letting go created. This is fine with me. I need forward motion.

If you have any ideas what I can do with this damn body butter, let me know. And happy new year.

<—-See? Awesome cover, huh?

This is the best thing about hanging out with a bunch of writers, besides their unending support and fabulous charm–every once in a while one of them gets published, and I get to vicariously share in his success. It’s doubly satisfying when I’ve had a hand in the process. I saw this manuscript in an earlier form and have been able to see it develop into the fantastic read it is today.

Go check out this awesome interview Allison Dickson did with Ian, and then go order the book!

Congrats, Ian!

So I finally got the book edited and sent off. A few weeks ago I had compiled a list of a few small publishers, but after the edit was done and I began to write my query letter, I realized there was only one I felt comfortable submitting to. First I eliminated any that had a book too similar to mine, and then my main criteria was professional-looking covers and website. I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but people do. I do. If I see an amateurish cover, I might assume the book inside has been amateurishly written and edited. It’s about quality standards. And no, it’s not foolproof, but if the only publisher I can snag is one who can’t make my book look professional, well then I can do that myself.

Anyway, the single publisher I chose to submit BVA to is Carina Press, the digital-first arm of Harlequin. They accept non-romance genres, and since they publish digitally, they’re not so sticky about word count—at 72k words, BVA is a little shorter than expected in the fantasy genre. It’ll take a couple of months to hear back from them, and once they reject it (*snort* pessimism, anyone?) I’ll publish on Smashwords, I guess.

I must say that if I do self-pub it, it will be only for my peace of mind. With “Mon Petit Ami,” I got the most wonderful feeling of closure on a piece that I’d anguished over for years. It was done a long time ago, but I seemed to get stuck on it, unable to put it down for good. I’ve got over a hundred downloads on it, which is pretty cool, even though I sold only one copy to a friend. But the point is, it feels done now that it has an ISBN. And hopefully this will also work for Ea’s Gift and Black Veil Angel, if it comes down to that.

So this Facebook thing is something I’ve struggled with for a while. FB is almost meaningless if you don’t keep up with it every day. If people know you’re on there but you don’t respond to their very important news (not being sarcastic, lots of people announce things this way), they forget about you, or worse, assume you’ve hidden them when you simply missed their post. And so I’ve been trying to stay active on there, because that’s where everyone is.

The result of this is feeling like I’ve already said all I have to say, leaving nothing for the blog. This is not a bad thing in itself, but when so much so much of my life is online—banking, journaling, socializing, job search—all there is left to do when I’m forced to be offline is to clean house, bake, and write. I could have showered at 7:30, but my body doesn’t want to be wet till nine o’clock. I could have made myself breakfast, but I’m never hungry till ten. So my morning schedule is all messed up, and I find myself blogg—

…

Dammit! I was connected for about two minutes, but it’s gone now.

I grow bored with this. I still have a half hour before my bod will want a shower, so maybe I’ll do a little editing. And maybe this will publish, and maybe it won’t.

For instance, suddenly it’s very important to get this book edited and submitted, when years have gone by with little thought to it. And it’s going quite well, I must say. This might not be what you want to hear, and you might not believe me, but…I’ve had a job and written, and I’ve had no job and written, and it’s easier with a job. Obviously your time will be limited, but that seems to be an important element for me. Once I had all the time in the world writing became less of a priority. And it was a lot of pressure, because it was the MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD. In fact, it was the only other thing I had to do besides housework and kid stuff. I think that’s probably why it’s suddenly easier to get back into it, because I’m busier now. I don’t have so much time to think about how important it is, or to feel guilty for not doing it.

The housework has also become important. The holidays are coming up, you know.

And so has Mad Men. Again. I’ve seen every episode at least twice, and most of them three times. It depresses me, though, the darkness of it. Even the happy people in that show are unhappy. But I love it anyway.

But I guess I do need to make the job hunt important again. It just seems like there’s nothing for me. Maybe I should make my own job. Queen. I’ll be Queen of America. Somebody pay me.

Now I have another gas problem, this time with the furnace. It’s not a constant leak but appears to be related to the operation, like maybe the gas stays on after the fire goes out, or something like that. So the heat was right there, but I couldn’t risk it. We spent a chilly night under extra covers, and the kids sure did complain getting ready for school this morning.

So I have to call the furnace guy here in a few minutes. And I have to go to Walmart in Shawnee. And I have to drop off my resume at the college in Seminole, which means I want to look nice when I do. But if I have to wait for the furnace guy all day, I don’t know how I’m going to do that other stuff. I have to decide pretty quick if I want to just mail my resume, but I’m afraid it won’t get there by Monday, the cutoff date. It should, but it is the United States Postal Service, so, you know.

Still, not dying from a gas leak is priority one, so I’ll work it out somehow. Meanwhile, feel free to make your gas jokes. You know you want to go there. The ONG guy eyed my kittens and asked if I was sure it wasn’t cat gas I was smelling. There’s your bar.

Update: The furnace guys have come and gone and found no reason for the gas smell. They did find why it was running weirdly, and that’s because of high gas line pressure. So now I have to call ONG to have them check the pressure, yada yada yada. Anyhoo, after lunch I’m going to get pretty and go drop off my resume and then to Walmart, even though I don’t want to. It won’t be long before won’t get to decide how I spend my days, so I have to get used to it.

Yesterday was feet-on-pavement day. I had leads on two jobs I thought worth pursuing. My expectations were low already, looking at the jobs available for someone of my education and needs. Most positions have seemed like settling; these seemed like a good fit. Since air freshener is a concern, I want to check out the workplaces before I apply, if possible.

The first job was doing land and title research for the Seminole Nation. The place I applied is 23 minutes from my house (I timed it). Just on the edge of my ideal commute and pay, but an interesting job worth checking out.

I think it was doomed from the start. They made me fill out an application, and some of the information they wanted I didn’t have with me. I kept making mistakes on the app, so it looked sloppy by the time I was finished. Then after I finally handed it back, the lady said I’d be doing most of my work in another town a full 15 minutes further down the road. The commute would eat up too much of the already-low wage. Also, they don’t withhold taxes, so that’s a hassle. My first visit to a potential workplace turned out to be a bust.

The second place was on the way back from the first place. It was sort of a whim to stop there, because I figured it would be too smelly, but I also thought, it’s right there, so why not? Seminole State College is 13 minutes from my house, so that’s a plus. It’s a college office, a pleasant, clean workplace—plus. It’s a college, so smelly, Axe-wearing young adults—minus. Pay is good enough, but the benefits are like a dream. I’d overlooked the fact that it’s a state agency with state benefits. PLUS.

The lady in charge was so nice. She took ten minutes out of her day just to tell me all about the benefits of working in her office, and I hadn’t even applied yet. She seemed very open to me as a person. I’m really glad I needed college transcripts and a cover letter to apply, otherwise I’d have given her this resume that isn’t tailored to the job. Just thinking about working there gives me shivers, makes me want to cry, and sends me into spontaneous prayer. Please let the smells be okay, please don’t let me sound stupid in my resume, please don’t let those couple of failing semesters put her off, please oh please oh please.

One note about the fragrance issue: I didn’t feel bothered while in the office, even though I could smell something, the source wasn’t clear. I think it might have been the people, and not air freshener, which, while still not ideal, gives me great hope I can tolerate it. One test of whether or not I’ve been exposed to copious amounts of fragrance is to smell the clothes I wore the next day. Your nose shuts down after a while, so it’s hard to assess it that way. So I smelled my clothes this morning, and … nothing. No smell, except for my own nervous sweat.

I’m afraid to hope, but I’m moving forward on this today. I have until October 24 to assemble all the documents, improve my resume, and write my cover letter—and of course I don’t want to cut it too close.

Getting a job is a lot of work.

It’s amazing, the things you learn when you look at your history in the space of a couple pages. For instance, with the exception of one, all my jobs have been two years or less. The exception was five years, and I probably would have stayed there unhappily forever, if a Venezuelan hadn’t apparently needed the job more than I did.

There’s only one job I needed a resume to get, and that one lasted 3–4 months. The work was wonderful, but my boss was crazy. Looking back I can see she was probably an alcoholic, but I didn’t know what to call it back then. I still have dreams about working for her, in which I walk on eggshells and feel stupid all the time.

The work I enjoyed the most, regardless of environment, involved some kind of organization. The crazy lady job was office manager of a photography studio, before digital photography had completely taken over. That was my favorite work, cropping photos, collaborating with customers on extras, keeping records out the wazoo. My sewing factory job, the five-year one, was acceptable. I detested the environment, but with piecework you’re always trying to figure out a more efficient way to do it and then implementing it. The repetition was soothing. My wrists are shot now because of it, but it satisfied the (literally) OCD part of my brain.

Another really cool job was merchandising at a retail store, which I did on top of other, not-so-fun duties. Using my creativity to come up with displays and ads, using my hands to put those together, collaborating with different areas to make a cohesive plan that benefitted everyone—that was fun. If it weren’t for the extreme smells of the retail environment, that’s the one I’d go for. That or office manager. If I had a good boss, that might work.

I have trouble picking a direction. Too many variables. I’m still confident the right job is out there, but soon I might have to settle for the right-now job.