Okay, I'm not really (this is where you, or someone 'out there' says, "No, I am Creticus!"), I just thought it sounded funny, y'know, like the old 'I am Spartacus!' line. Maybe not so funny if I have to explain it, right?
I got the cistus creticus in the mail on Christmas Eve. What a surprise. The picture here, it's from the suppliers webpage (http://labdanum-shop.blogspot.com/) it looks nice, doesn't it? Let me explain ~ it looks soft and gooey and gummy and pliable, and you can almost imagine the scent, don't you think? Well, someone must have been playing with this one in the picture because the pieces I received look like -- um -- animal doody. They're rough looking, like an omnivore made it. I'd guess it would take some warming and handling before it looked like the one in the picture. I'm not suggesting false advertising or anything like that, I like my poopy looking labdanum. The scent isn't as strong as I'd thought it would be, but it's definitely labdanum. It smells like a warm animal, and I get a hint of a peppery note. It smells much more strongly when burned, amber like, sweet and woody. The next step is an ultrasonic tincture ~ then I'll talk about it again.
I'm feeling a bit paralyzed in my shop lately. Like there's so much to do I'm overwhelmed before I start so I don't. Start, that is. There's always something more important (not really, but that's the excuse I say to myself to make it all right) ~ a kid to pick up, a grocery store to haunt, a nap to take . . . yeah, lame. But I really, really, really need to get moving on this stuff. I have evals to conduct, an evaluation of perfumes from a famous Natural Botanical Perfumer so I can choose the full bottle version I prefer most, a few articles to get started on, a workbook to finish up, loads of reading, and, yes, the shop still isn't painted or decorated or in any way put together. After having visited a few NBP's the past month or so, I've got a better idea of how to arrange my space. And to be honest, I have more space than they do, so I don't know WTF my problem is. Oh, those excuses! Yes. That's it.
And the situation with the computers is . . . just . . . unbelieveable. I have three. And I've got a loaner lap top that doesn't like the internet, so I usually use it for word processing, but something's gone wrong with that too. So, about those other three worthless computers -- two are at my son's being repaired, the one I'm using now runs on Windows 98, doesn't have Word (WordPad only), moves at the speed of a dead snail on the internet, can't read PDF files, can't transfer images, can't do a flippin' thing I need it to. I'm writing documents on Google docs for the time being. Oh, and my lovely daughter, in her most graceful and gracious manner, knocked my external hard drive onto the floor directly on the USB port and yes, it won't connect to ANY of the computers because the port is jacked. Need a new case with a new USB port and we're back in business. In the meantime, everything languishes in the external hard drive, or the "eternal hard hat" as it's been named. You'd think a kid who has taken both belly dance and kick boxing classes would be more, how do you say? Coordinated? So as not to allow something so silly as a slow moving fall of an important piece of publishing equipment to occur. But no, she just stood there, holding the power cord in her hand, and then pronounced, "Ooooopppss!" as loudly as she could when it crunched on it's poor little USB plugger dealie on the floor. And, as if that weren't enough, I broke my printer yesterday. Thank heavens I have a back-up, but, of course, there's a problem with that one -- it's run out of ink and the ink cartridges for it cost, geesh, what? Like $65? Well, sure. But I have cartridges that will work in the printer, brand new cartridges -- but guess where they are? In the broke ass printer and stuck so I can't get them out. You'd think that by this point I'd be bouncing my head against a wall, right? Not me. I give myself a moment to feel grief and self-pity, then I get over it. Not having a good computer is not the end of the world. Not having a working printer is not the end of the world. The end of the world is the end of the world, right?
The hubs is washing dishes and just asked, "Are you burning more of that stuff because I can really smell it now." I'm not burning more of that 'stuff', and the scent does seem to have gotten stronger. This creticus is some special -- um -- stuff.