Thursday, May 03, 2012
Hay Fever and the Old Snoz
Late Tuesday afternoon I began sneezing. By Wednesday morning, I was in full blown hay fever mode. I don't use Claritin anymore because after several years on the stuff, it just quit working. Prior to that I was on steroids and Claritin D, and in case you're wondering, though the official definition of the 'D' is decongestant, for me it was 'homicidal tendencies', so I was off that stuff after only a week when I felt I could literally hear and feel bugs in my head, and if someone spoke to me, I turned into Euryale, screaming my head off and going for the jugular. So. I take otc meds now, Benadryl at night, other junk during the day, honey and bee pollen on a regular basis. I am miserably allergic to olive tree pollen. As a matter of fact, I get the worst reactions when exposed to it. So guess what's growing in a pot on my front porch? Yup. An olive tree in full blowsy. Pollen everywhere. After two nights of constant dripping nostrils and allergic rushes that brought on squingey, blood red eyes and sneezing fits, I'm on the other end. I hope. Can't smell a thing. Still a little congested, but not so rushy. Eyes are still puffy, but they don't appear to be popping out of my head anymore. My nose is really raw from all the blowing, though. Yuck. This is the perfect time to make some soap. That way I won't second guess myself on my scent choices and do something foolish to screw it up. I have a tendency to over think these things. I was going through some old notebooks and came across a few scent formulations that I wanted to revisit in regards to making soaps -- more notably, an old voodoo soap using tons of Haitian vetyver, patchouli and a drizzle of Himayalan cedar. A very musky, dark, deep, mind-boggling scent. Soap is like life, the simpler it is, the better it is. Over complicated formulas tend to muddy the waters, so to speak. Now that all the bedroom stuff is out of the studio, it feels ready to go to work. I still need to pull the old butler's pantry door up from the basement and settle it on some wrought iron legs to create a work bench in the middle of the studio -- again, it sounds as if I'm setting obstacles in my way to prevent the work from happening, but that's not so -- this time. I'm looking forward to it, all of it, the frustration, the joy, the magic of creating these wonderful apothecary items. And I am going to begin the kyphi I wrote about in an earlier post. Frankincense calls to me in this way. It is telling me all of the work needs to be done by hand, the grinding of the resins, the crushing of the herbs, the time to steep and ferment must be given and I will be rewarded for my patience and care. At least that's how I am imagining it. The Universe may have different ideas, and that's okay too. Now is time to prepare for the J O B that pays the rent; wash off the sleep and smear lotion on the poor glowing nose. 'Til next time . . .