Tiny Stories, Tiny Tales

Like many people, I’m pretty aware that weird things get put into deodorants nowadays and since I don’t relish the thought of getting breast cancer- or any kind for that matter due to a deodorant, I switched over to deodorants that mask odor but don’t stop the sweat. These failed absolutely and completely. I became a stinky person who regularly washed a few times a day under her arms. Washing three times per day (or more) made the skin on my underarms dry out and become itchy. I felt like a bit of a monkey at times, scratching at my armpits. It just wasn’t cool.

Until…I finally pulled myself together and ordered the goods. And this is what I made

The recipe is all angry chicken’s doing. How people figure these things out on their own, beats me but I’m so in love with her recipe. Is that possible? Of course! I’m on day two after lots of exercise and still not a stink anywhere. Not one trace. And the ingredients are loveable to the body. It makes me happy and it just might make you too. It’s so simple and completely gratifying to make and use. And pretty inexpensive! It takes only a tiny bit to make 4 oz. and I’m figuring this 4 oz. will last a good while.

On a bookish note, there’s a new illustrated cover of “Wrinkle in Time” out. Here it is…it’s just so pretty, I had to share.

Isn’t it lovely? Even better in person, of course. The illustrator, Taeeun Yoo, has an etsy shop too.

So that’s a few things I’m loving right now. What’s making you happy this spring?

Comments (3):

  1. Cindi, Mom, Me

    May 4, 2009 at 8:27 pm

    This is really cool. I’ll have to check it out.

  2. mollie

    May 13, 2009 at 9:02 pm

    Hey, Angry Chicken did an update on her use of the deodorant today. She’s still loving it. Oooh, and thanks for showing off the lovely cover of that book…if only I liked A Wrinkle in Time I would get it. (We listened to it on a trip once and I thought I would go out of my mind! I’m just not one for fantasy type things)

  3. Catherine

    May 20, 2009 at 3:10 pm

    Cindi: Tell me if you make it! or I could always make some for you, if you wanted to try it.
    Mollie: Sorry it took me so long to approve of your comment. I thought I Had but apparently I have to approve of comments in two separate ways to make it appear…how bureaucratic of this thing…anyway, I’ve never been able to listen to a book and like it. I get way too bored. and “wrinkle in time” is a quirky bird of a book …and it’s quirk fits in well with reading on a stormy night! I find myself always starting it on a stormy night…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

A Tale of Two Worlds

I walk past a window on my way to get a glass of water and note the snow falling outside.  As I fill my glass at the sink, my thoughts have already turned back to my work on the computer. I’m wrestling with the household budget, when I’ll fit some reading in, how to get on with my writing work, when I’ll exercise, when I’ll catch up with email correspondence and the list goes on and on.

Anytime I stop my work and look up, past the chatter in my mind, the snow catches me off guard as if it’s the first time I’m seeing it. I debate whether I can put off the grocery store to avoid driving in the snow.

This is the world of the everyday. It’s full of a thousand petty cares, some essential to living, others not as much but all in a lump group, tugging us along.

But there are times my mind needs something more refreshing, and it’s time to take a break. And that’s where music comes in—as powerful as Circe creating a circle of magic with her staff. I pick out music without words (or words I don’t understand). Today is Rimsky-Korsakov, tomorrow might be the film Phantom Thread’s soundtrack, or a piece of jazz played by Lucky Thompson.

As Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Snow Maiden starts, the circle opens. I come out of the everyday world and enter somewhere extraordinary, where beauty converges with life and cares and worries exit for a time. And all it takes is a little music, a little snow, and entering the moment that is now.

I watch the snow falling, noting the wind direction as the snow blows southeast and then drops and then exhales again southwards. I note the density of the snow, how it’s light and sparkling and then downy, heavy, and wet.  My thoughts finally still and I turn off the music. A heavy relief passes over my body and mind and I am still, watching the beauty of the world.

The Fog Rises Up and We Come Down to Meet It

This winter has frozen and thawed. And then frozen and thawed once again. With the most recent exhale of cold, fog rises up from the melting ground and wraps my town in a trance.

It softens the ragged tops of trees and transforms the dead yellowed grass into a carpet spreading out into unseen lands.  With foggy foreshortened vision, the world becomes finite and in the smallness, my wonder grows.  Trees become gloomy gods, bushes hunch over like mysterious beings with secrets hidden in twiggy souls. The sky blurs out and the land rises up to meet it and everything is reformed or brought down to its most basic form. It is easy to become lost and confused.

I walk the perimeter of my neighborhood park. We become redone together.  The playground becomes enchanted, strangely unknowable as the slides and swings soften and distort.

The ballpark’s high chain link fence however, becomes more sure.  The metal darkens and braces and holds against the diffused white light.  I stare at it through my camera lens, delighted by its ferocity while everything else around it wavers and melts.

A train passes over the hill and I can see nothing, it has been whitened out, but I can hear the busy clack of the iron wheels running on steel rails.

Geese fly overhead for a minute and then vanish.

I press on and the mist parts as I walk and so we walk together, softened, softening with the night closing in behind our steps.  The night takes everything behind us, rebuilds it like it wishes and then I step into my home and close the door.

Rain falls a few hours later and the fog mounts up, gently pressing at the windows but by morning, it is all gone and only little bits of ice remain on the walkway.