Wednesday, February 06, 2013
I received a lovely herb apothecary box with 10 tiny drawers stacked in a pyramid for Yule, and I've yet to fill it up. The moment I saw it the thought that this could be the resin box dashed through my mind. Resins for kyphi, for tincturing and distilling. No, the drawers won't hold a huge amount of resins, perhaps up to eight ounces each, maybe an ounce or so more, but would serve me well as a dispensary for quick trials of small test batches of kyphi incense, or speedy access to a pearl of myrrh for a mojo bag. And just imagine, years and years of raw resins dwelling within the drawers of this box will leave the box smelling of heaven, the arms of the gods, the breath of angels ~ aahhh.
I know, the picture isn't the greatest, the lighting is wrong and there appears to be a smudge on the lens. But you get the idea of what I am trying to achieve here with a resin box, or resin apothecary.
So now that I'm over the flu, everyone else seems to be suffering the effects of the virus -- my granddaughter was awake most of the night last night crying, "Owie, owie, owie," about her poor little sore throat. Nothing eased her pain but a 2:00 AM showing of Caillou on Netflix and a dose of acetaminophen. Needless to say, I'm exhausted.
I'm planning to attend an essential oil uses workshop on Sunday at a local herbalist's. Normally I'd deck myself out and go to the Mardi Gras parade, but after having lived here in the 'hood of the wild, wooly, strange, outlandish, and bizarre, it just doesn't seem so novel anymore. Now I understand why the long-time residents of the Tower seem so cool toward Tower goings on that draw the rest of the city in -- after years of putting up with the daily craziness that typifies the Tower mentality, a day of super-crazy just doesn't seem so appealing. Sometimes the shenanigans around here just get old.