Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Melancholia

It only strikes at night, when I'm here alone (hubs works nights) and little feet aren't digging into my back in the middle of the night. I love my alone time -- passionately -- but this is different. This feeling reminds me of when I lived in the Van Ness house and was alone there in that huge, hollow house in the weeks before I moved to the central coast. It feels like a little bit of my purpose has been shed. But you know me, I'll be fine once I'm elbow deep in a vat of Kyphi mush.

Yesterday I had a very long phone conversation with a dear friend whose marriage of 28 years is coming apart at the seams. She vacillated between being deeply distraught to being righteously angry and borderline vindictive -- y'know, the normal feelings one feels in these circumstances. What struck me was that she, like me, is an artist at heart and spent nearly her entire marriage out of the job market to pursue art and creativity, while raising children, and now that she's forced into the job market, she has few skills one might consider job-worthy. It's especially difficult for women past the age of 45 to be taken seriously, and this is usually a time when we need this type of support the most. We've raised our children to adulthood, often our marriages dissolve, and we're left with cobwebby art studios, a seemingly bleak future, and a decade or more before we're eligible for social security. I plan to do something about that situation, once I'm set up in the studio and it goes retail. Older women have a lot to offer in terms of experience and intuition, and coupled with a few youngsters with wild imaginations and no sense of a ceiling on the possibilities, the combination can be explosively beneficial to a business.

So far this month I've gotten five requests for more Egyptian and otherwise types of Kyphi. I'll probably begin a couple next week. They won't be ready until the end of summer, and one may end up being put away for a year or more to really set the scent. It seems like all my 'projects' are culminating in mid- to late-summer. F12016CH is still ageing in its diluted form, and already I see that it needs more extending notes -- a heavier butt, if you will. It doesn't sit firmly on the skin, but floats away and feels unfinished. I'm surprised how at a higher dilution rate it seems more fruity/violet than it did in its whole form. It's nice, it's just kind of thin. It reminds me of Easter smells -- Peeps and white chocolate and frozen berries, and the scent that rises while rustling through tall green grass and damp soil for hidden eggs. Maybe I'm just taking this sh*t too seriously! Naw.

Oh! The tea shop that I made soaps for has them packaged up and ready to sell:


Nice, eh?

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